Emily stood by the bed, her small frame a fragile barrier between whatever was happening and my vulnerable position on the floor. I could see her feet shifting nervously, her toes curling on the cold tiles as she tried to mask her fear with bravery.

The doctor with the silver watch—whom Emily had mentioned—spoke next. He had a low, soothing voice that dripped with insincerity. “It’s important we proceed with the procedure quickly, for her own good.”

Procedure? My mind raced, trying to piece together what was happening. I recalled signing something amidst the chaos of labor, but I couldn’t remember what. The memory was a haze, obscured by pain and exhaustion. Had Linda manipulated me into signing something I didn’t understand?