The heavy doors swung open, and Maya stepped out, followed closely by a woman in a pastel yellow coat holding a small, familiar hand.

“Mommy!”

A high, sweet voice cut through the sterile corridor.

“Sophie!” I dropped to my knees, my arms flying wide just as a small blur of pink and denim launched herself straight into my chest.

I caught her, burying my face in her soft curls, breathing in the scent of baby shampoo and strawberry toothpaste. Tears streamed freely down my cheeks as I squeezed her tight, kissing her forehead, her cheeks, her hair, over and over again.

“Mommy, I missed you so much,” Sophie sobbed softly against my neck, little arms wrapped fiercely around my shoulders. “Daddy said you went on a trip, but I wanted you to come home.”

“I’m right here, my sweet girl,” I whispered, my voice breaking with emotion. “I’m never going anywhere. Mommy is right here.”

Behind us, footsteps approached slowly.

I looked up over Sophie’s shoulder. Alex stood a few feet away, his hands shoved deep into his pockets, his shoulders slumped. He looked older, smaller, and utterly broken.

“She’s been asking for you every hour,” Alex said softly, his voice thick with unexpressed grief.

I stood up slowly, keeping Sophie cradled securely in my arms. I looked at the man who had once terrorized half of Chicago, the man who thought he could buy love, control his family, and outrun the consequences of his own arrogance.

“You can see her on Tuesday and Thursday afternoons, Alex,” I said, my voice calm, firm, and completely detached. “Just like the court order states. No nannies stepping in, no business calls during visiting hours, and absolutely no associates present.”

Alex nodded slowly, his eyes shining with unshed tears. “I understand. I’ll follow every rule, Emily. I swear it.”

“Good,” I said, turning toward the exit with my daughter in my arms. “Because for the first time in eight years, I’m the one making the rules.”