Lena had always known her brother, Caleb, could be selfish. He’d been the center of attention growing up, a whirlwind of charm and manipulation that left everyone else cleaning up after him. But she never imagined he would cross the line he crossed the night she brought her newborn daughter, Ivy, home from the hospital.
The house was too quiet when she entered. Exhaustion clouded her thoughts, and all she wanted was to sink into bed and hold her baby close. But the moment she stepped into the living room, she felt it—an unease, a shift in the air. Caleb was sitting on the couch, hands clasped tightly, jittery as though he’d been waiting.
“You’re finally back,” he said. His tone was wrong. Too eager. Too intense.
Lena forced a tired smile. “It was a long night. Ivy’s sleeping now.”
Caleb’s eyes flicked to the baby carrier. “Let me see her.”
Something inside her tightened. She couldn’t explain it, but the way he leaned forward, the way his gaze sharpened, made her hesitate. “She’s sleeping,” she said more firmly. “Maybe later.”
His jaw twitched. “Lena, I’m her uncle. I deserve to hold her.”
Deserve. The word sent a chill down her spine.
She stepped back toward the hallway. “Not now, Caleb. I’m exhausted.”
He stood up abruptly, blocking her path. “You don’t get it,” he said, voice cracking with a strange desperation. “You can’t take care of her. Look at you—you’re barely standing. Mom always said you weren’t strong enough.”
Lena froze. “What are you talking about?”
Caleb’s eyes darted toward the front door. “I can give her a better life. I could take her tonight. She’d be safe with me.”
The air punched out of her lungs. “What?”
He reached toward the carrier.
Lena reacted before she had time to think. She gripped the handle and pulled it to her chest, her voice suddenly fierce. “Don’t you dare touch my daughter.”
Caleb’s face twisted, frustration melting into something darker. “You don’t deserve her,” he hissed. “You can’t handle being a mom.”
Her heart thundered in her ears, but something stronger surged through her—protective, primal. “Get out,” she said. “Now.”
He didn’t move.
“Caleb,” she warned, her voice shaking with fury, “if you take one more step, I’m calling the police.”
For a moment, he stood frozen, his expression flickering between rage and disbelief. Then, with a bitter snarl, he snatched his jacket from the chair and stormed out, slamming the door so hard the windows rattled.
Lena sank to her knees, hugging the carrier to her chest as tears streamed down her face. Ivy stirred inside, letting out a soft whimper, and Lena pressed a trembling hand against the blanket.
“I’ve got you,” she whispered. “I will always protect you.”
Hours later, after checking every lock twice and finally settling Ivy into her crib, Lena realized something she hadn’t expected: the moment she stood up to Caleb was the moment she understood her own strength. Overwhelmed, exhausted, terrified—yes. But incapable? Never.
