Chapter 2

I sat there staring at that Instagram post for maybe ten minutes. Every new like felt like another slap in the face.

Sofia had fallen asleep in my arms, her tiny fist curled against my chest. At least she was peaceful. She didn't know yet that her grandmother thought she was worthless.

A knock on the door made me look up. "Come in."

It was Patricia, carrying a small gift bag. She walked in like she owned the place, glancing around my basic room with obvious satisfaction.

"I brought you a little something to help you settle in," she said, setting the bag on the nightstand. "Some nice tea and crackers. Nothing fancy, but suitable for your situation."

My situation. Like I was a charity case.

"Patricia, I need to get a few things from the other room," I said, standing up carefully. "Sofia's special formula and some of my personal items."

"Oh, I already took care of that." She waved her hand dismissively. "I moved everything that was actually necessary."

"What about my jewelry box? And the imported formula my pediatrician recommended?"

Patricia's expression turned cold. "Your jewelry? Chloe borrowed a few pieces for photos. She's documenting the baby's first week, and she needs to look presentable. You understand."

"Borrowed?" My voice came out sharper than I intended. "Without asking me?"

"It's just temporary. Besides, when would you wear jewelry anyway? You're not exactly going to social events." Her eyes flicked meaningfully to my leg.

The casual cruelty hit me like a punch. "Those pieces were gifts from my parents."

"And now they're being put to good use. Chloe photographs beautifully, unlike some people. The camera loves her."

Unlike some people. Meaning me.

"I want them back. And I need Sofia's special formula."

"The formula is being used for a more important purpose. Chloe's milk production isn't quite adequate yet, and we can't have a Johnson boy going hungry."

"Sofia needs that formula too. It's for her sensitive stomach."

Patricia laughed, a sound like breaking glass. "Elena, you need to understand something. Brett and Chloe are a real American family. Their children will carry on American traditions, American values."

"And what am I?"

"You're a foreign woman who got lucky when my son felt sorry for you." She stepped closer. "You people from Mexico always think you deserve more than you've earned. Caleb saved your life after that car crash, gave you his name, and you still want more."

You people. The words hung in the air like poison.

"I want my daughter to have what was bought for her."

"Your daughter will get what she needs. Basic formula works just fine for girls. The expensive stuff should go to children who matter for the family's future."

Children who matter. Not Sofia.

"I'm going to talk to Caleb about this."

"Go ahead." Patricia's smile was razor-sharp. "But remember, Caleb has known me his whole life. You? You're just the broken woman he felt obligated to fix."

After she left, I sat holding Sofia, my hands shaking with rage.

Twenty minutes later, Caleb knocked and came in. He was carrying coffee and wearing that guilty expression I was starting to recognize.

"Hey. Mom said you needed to talk."

"She took my jewelry. And Sofia's special formula."

"Elena..." He sighed heavily. "It's just for a few days. Chloe needs to look nice for the baby photos, and her son needs the better nutrition."

"Her son? What about our daughter?"

"Sofia will be fine with regular formula. Mom raised two healthy boys, she knows what babies need."

"The pediatrician specifically recommended that formula for Sofia's digestion."

Caleb ran his hand through his hair. "Look, can't you just be flexible? This is important to Mom. Having a grandson means everything to her."

"And having a granddaughter means nothing?"

"That's not what I said."

"It's what you meant." I looked at him, really looked at him. "When did I become the unreasonable one for wanting basic fairness?"

"You're not unreasonable. You're just... maybe too focused on small details instead of the big picture."

"Small details? Like making sure our daughter gets proper nutrition?"

"Mom knows best about baby care. She's experienced."

I felt something cold settle in my chest. "Whose side are you on, Caleb?"

"There are no sides. We're family." He reached for my hand. "Can't you try to understand Mom's perspective? She's just excited about finally having a grandson."

Finally. There was that word again.

"What about being excited about Sofia?"

"She is excited. In her own way."

I pulled my hand away. "Your mother called me a broken woman you felt obligated to fix."

Caleb's face went red. "She didn't mean it like that."

"How did she mean it?"

"She's protective of me. Sometimes she says things wrong."

"Says things wrong, or says what she really thinks?"

He was quiet for a long moment. Then: "Elena, maybe if you tried harder to get along with her, she'd warm up to you."

My heart sank. "So this is my fault?"

"I'm just saying, all this conflict isn't good for anyone. Especially not for Sofia."

After he left, I felt more alone than I had since the accident three years ago.

I put Sofia down for a nap and walked to the small window. From here, I could see other families in the courtyard below. Happy couples pushing strollers, grandparents taking pictures.

Normal families. Where babies were celebrated regardless of gender.

Through the thin walls, I heard Patricia's voice from down the hall. She was on the phone, and her words carried clearly.

"That crippled Mexican finally had her baby. Just a daughter, thank God it wasn't another boy competing with ours. Now I need Brett and Chloe to have more children soon. Real Johnson blood to carry on the family name."

I pressed my ear closer to the wall.

"Elena actually thinks she belongs here. After everything Caleb did for her, she should be grateful just to have the Johnson name. But these people always want more than they deserve."

These people. My vision blurred with angry tears.

"Once we have more grandsons, Elena will know her place. Her little Mexican daughter will never be as important as American-born Johnson boys. Maybe then she'll stop being so demanding about every little thing."

I backed away from the wall, my whole body trembling.

Sofia was never going to matter to them. Not because she was a difficult child or had problems. Simply because she was mine. Because she was a girl. Because her blood wasn't "pure" enough.

And Caleb would never protect us from it.