I bolt upright. I'm drenched head to toe. I brush my wet hair from my face as I frantically search my room. I dart from my bed to the nursery. I slap a hand over my mouth when a sob escapes at the sight of my sleeping daughter in her crib.
I pant as I attempt to take a full breath. She's here. Liberty is here with me. She's not with Hamilton. She's not in Chicago. I haven't lost custody of my daughter. It was a dream. It was a horrible dream. It was just a nightmare—my worst fears playing out in my head.
Unable to restrain myself, I lift my daughter clutching her to my chest. She remains asleep while I hold her close—we rock. The creaking of the wooden chair and her warmth at my chest calm my racing heart.
The next morning, I wake to texts.
Hamilton-sorry I missed your call. I've b
