I didn’t panic. I didn’t shout. I simply held the baby and let them stew in their misjudgment. Ethan paced the room, hands running through his hair, the anger in his face growing with every tick of the clock. Vanessa stood by the entryway, arms crossed, lips tight, realizing their plan had failed before they even set foot inside.
“You think you can just take everything?” Ethan finally spat, his voice shaking with frustration.
I looked at him calmly. “I think you need to understand what responsibility really means,” I said softly. The baby cooed, reaching out for a small stuffed toy I handed over, completely oblivious to the tension surrounding her.
Vanessa tried a different approach. “Dad, we—”
“No,” I interrupted. “Not now.”
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