I Refused to Hand Over My Newborn

The apartment finally fell silent.

Victoria Bellini, my sister, furrowed her brow and looked at me as if I were insane.

"You've lost your mind, Emilia."

Mom, meanwhile, coldly declared that her 28 years of raising me had been a total failure.

Stepping over the shattered glass, I held my daughter close, retreated into the bedroom, and locked the door behind us.

"Emilia, open the door. You're scaring Lily."

Mom's voice was as calm and controlled as ever, making me sound like the utterly unreasonable one for locking myself in the room.

I leaned against the wall and gently patted Lily's back. She'd only just stopped crying, and tear tracks still stained her cheeks. Her tiny hands clutched my collar in a death grip.

"Emilia," Victoria called from the other side of the door. "Don't blame Mom. You just got out of a toxic marriage. You have no steady income, and you don't even have health insurance. How are you going to raise her?"

"I can find a job," I called back through the door, my voice hoarse.

"What kind of job?" Mom scoffed from outside. "A gallery assistant job that doesn't even make minimum wage? Victoria and Alexander have a mansion, and they've already reserved a spot for Lily at the top private preschool. If she lives with them, she'll be on the elite track from day one. But if she stays with you, what will she live on? Food stamps?"

Silence fell outside the door for a moment.

Alexander Cordone, Victoria's husband, cleared his throat.

"Emilia, from an economic and resource allocation standpoint, concentrating our resources on the people with the greatest need—who can also provide the optimal environment—is the best choice."

He was using the same logic he applied as an investment banking executive to negotiate the custody of my daughter.

"Get out," I said.

"You're still as stubborn as ever," Mom snapped, pacing back and forth outside the door. "I've already made an appointment with the lawyer for you. Alexander knows a family court judge. We can fast-track the adoption paperwork tomorrow and get it over with."

My head snapped up.

"What gives you the right to make decisions for me?"

"Because my decision is the right one!" Her voice rose, carrying the kind of authority that brooked no argument. "From the time you were a kid, which of your achievements wasn't planned out by me?"

Lily stirred in my arms, fussing to be fed. I unbuttoned my shirt and nestled her against my chest. A tear fell onto her forehead, making her whimper uncomfortably.

"Mom," Victoria said in a low voice, though I could still hear her clearly. "Emilia's behavior right now looks a lot like severe postpartum depression. I've read about cases like this. Mothers with depression can easily cause irreversible harm to their babies."

"You're right," Mom replied without hesitation. "She even smashed a liquor bottle just now. She's clearly unstable. Victoria, call Dr. Cordone right away and have him set up an appointment with a psychiatrist for your sister."

Dr. Richard Cordone was Alexander's father and a renowned psychiatric specialist at a prestigious private hospital.

My heart sank a little further with every word.

They were standing outside, discussing how to strip me of my parental rights, using medical and legal justifications to make it all look legitimate.

"Emilia, just take tonight to calm down," Alexander said, knocking on the door. "We'll bring a doctor over tomorrow to evaluate you."

Their footsteps gradually faded away. A moment later, I heard the sound of the front door clicking shut.

I didn't dare let my guard down. Holding Lily close, I went to the window and looked down. Alexander's black Maybach was parked below. Mom and Victoria walked out together, with the latter holding the adoption papers in her hand. Mom patted her on the shoulder, and she lowered her head with a smile.

Once they drove off, I pulled out my phone, intending to message a lawyer friend for help. Before I could, however, the screen lit up with a notification from my banking app.

"15,000 dollars has been transferred out of your joint account."

That was my entire life savings.

I froze. I'd opened that account before I got married, and as a joint account holder, Mom had retained access all along.

My phone rang.

"I've moved your money into a trust for now," Mom informed me calmly. "You're emotionally unstable right now. Once you pass your psychological evaluation, I'll give you a monthly allowance."

"That's my money!"

"That money belongs to the Bellini family. The family has invested in you for years, so you should think about what's best for the family, too. Victoria is about to hold a christening for Lily, and she needs money for the venue and party favors."

"Who gave her permission to hold a christening?"

"I did," Mom answered with a sigh. "Grow up, Emilia. When Dr. Cordone comes tomorrow, I suggest you cooperate."

With that, she hung up.

I stared at the blank screen, my hands and feet turning ice-cold.