The remaining room was where we kept our belongings and planned to make a playroom when Eleanor grew older.

There were no spare bedrooms waiting for anyone.

“Mom, did you ask Ben and me whether we wanted them living with us?”

“Being sisters doesn’t mean Medelli can move into my home without permission.”

Her expression hardened.

“Don’t start acting selfish now, Odalie. Your sister just had a baby.”

I looked down at Eleanor.

So had I.

But apparently, that detail continued to escape everyone.

“Mom, I gave birth twenty-two hours before you started making plans for my property. I haven’t even been home with my daughter yet.”

She waved her hand dismissively.

“You’re always so dramatic. Medelli has a lot going on. Kyle’s business hasn’t been doing well, and they need somewhere stable to live.”

Ben finally spoke.

“Then perhaps they should discuss their housing situation with a landlord or financial adviser. Our house isn’t available.”

Mom turned toward him.

“This is a family matter, Ben.”

“No,” he replied calmly. “It’s our property. That makes it our decision.”

Her eyes narrowed.

“I wasn’t speaking to you.”

Ben didn’t raise his voice.

“You’re standing in our daughter’s hospital room discussing moving people into our home. You can speak to both of us.”

Mom looked genuinely offended.

I had seen that expression many times before.

It was the face she made whenever someone refused to follow her instructions.

Then she lowered her voice.

“Odalie, your sister is already under enormous stress. Don’t make this harder for her.”

I took a breath.

“Where is Medelli planning to live now?”

Mom hesitated.

“With you.”

“Where is she living tonight?”

“At her apartment.”

“And when did she plan to move?”

My mother looked away.

“Saturday.”

I stared at her.

Saturday.

That was two days away.

They had already selected a moving date.

They had apparently discussed transportation, belongings, and access to our property.

And nobody had asked us.

“Mom, how did you plan to get into our house?”

She didn’t answer.

Ben leaned forward.

“She mentioned having the spare key and garage code.”

Mom looked at him.

“Well, of course I have them. You gave them to me.”

“For emergencies,” I reminded her.

“Exactly. This is an emergency.”

I looked at her carefully.

“Fine. I can see you’re not in the mood to have a reasonable conversation.”

She turned toward the door.

“But don’t expect us to forget how you’ve treated your sister.”

I looked at her.

“How have I treated her?”

She didn’t answer.

She simply walked out.

The door closed softly behind her.

Ben looked at me.

“Are you okay?”

I nodded, although I wasn’t.

I was beginning to understand that the problem wasn’t simply my parents favoring Medelli.

It was that they had become so accustomed to treating my life as something they could manage that they no longer recognized the difference between helping themselves and asking permission.

And I had a terrible feeling that the situation was much worse than I knew.

Twenty minutes later, Denise returned.

She checked Eleanor’s temperature, reviewed my recovery notes, and asked whether I needed anything.

Then she hesitated.

“Odalie, I wanted to mention something else.”

I looked up.

“Yes?”

“Earlier today, a woman approached the nurses’ station asking whether your daughter could be released to a family member other than you or your husband.”

My stomach tightened.

“Who?”

Denise checked her notes.

“She identified herself as Eleanor’s grandmother.”

“My mother?”

“I can’t confirm her identity from that description alone, but she said she was the maternal grandmother.”

Ben sat upright.

“What exactly did she ask?”

Denise explained that the woman had asked whether a grandmother could collect a newborn if the mother was tired or recovering from surgery.

She also asked what identification would be necessary and whether the parents had to be physically present.

I felt a chill move through me.

“Did she request any paperwork?”

“She asked whether there was a form allowing another family member to take responsibility for the baby temporarily.”

Ben looked at me.

“Did she say why?”

Denise shook her head.

“She said she was trying to make things easier for you.”

I closed my eyes.

My mother had been planning something.

I didn’t know what.

But I knew one thing.

I didn’t want anyone making decisions about Eleanor without our consent.

“Denise, please document that neither of our parents has permission to collect Eleanor or make decisions regarding her discharge.”

“Of course.”

“And please make sure nobody receives information about our discharge time unless Ben or I authorize it.”

She nodded.

“I’ll make a note in your chart and inform the appropriate staff.”

After she left, Ben stood up.

“I’m calling a locksmith.”

I looked at him.

“Right now?”

“Yes. And I’m changing the garage access code.”

I nodded.

“Do it.”

He stepped into the hallway to make the call.

I looked at Eleanor sleeping peacefully.

She had no idea that the adults around her were already arguing about where she should live.

I gently touched her tiny hand.

“Don’t worry, sweetheart,” I whispered. “Your daddy and I will take care of everything.”

The next morning, I received a message from Medelli.

It was the first time she’d contacted me since our deliveries.

I expected congratulations.

Perhaps an apology for what had happened.

Instead, her message read:

I heard Mom said you aren’t cooperating. Please don’t make this situation difficult. Kyle and I really need the extra space.

I stared at the screen.

Then I typed:

Medelli, why are you planning to move into my house?

Her response arrived almost immediately.

Because Mom said you agreed.

I felt my stomach drop.

I read the sentence again.

Then I showed it to Ben.

He shook his head.

“Your mother told her we agreed?”

Apparently.

I typed another message.

CONTINUE FOR NEXT PART4…