Brooklyn pulled back against the grip, but Patricia’s knuckles didn’t loosen.

“If this baby wasn’t causing so much trouble, your mother would remember she has another family,” Patricia whispered into her face.

Brooklyn stared straight into her grandmother’s eyes.

She didn’t blink.

“Let go of me,” Brooklyn said.

“Your aunt worked for three months on this weekend,” Patricia said, her thumb pressing harder into the small bone of Brooklyn’s wrist.

“And your mother ruined every single hour of it.”

Rosalie’s chest rose once, very slightly, and stayed still a fraction of a second longer than the machine intended.