Chapter 2 - The Hospital Records Proved Grace Gave Birth to Two Girls, but Someone Had Rewritten the File Before I Ever Saw ItThe DNA results arrived at midnight.
I was sitting in my study.
Lily was asleep upstairs.
Emma was sleeping in the guest room.
She had refused to let go of her teddy bear.
The report sat unopened in front of me.
I already knew.
Still, I opened it.
Probability of sibling relationship: 99.998%.
I closed my eyes.
My daughters were twins.
There was no longer any question.
What remained was the question that mattered more.
Why had I not known?
The hospital records arrived twenty minutes later.
My private investigator, Daniel Ross, placed them on my desk.
“We found the original file.”
“Where?”
“Stored off-site.”
“Why?”
“Someone flagged it as restricted.”
I opened the folder.
Grace's name.
Delivery date.
Cesarean section.
Two female infants.
Lily Lawson.
Baby B.
The second child's name had been scratched out.
I stared.
“Who signed this?”
Daniel pointed.
“Dr. Samuel Kent.”
I knew him.
He had been the chief obstetrician at the hospital.
He had attended Grace's delivery.
“He told me there was only one baby.”
“Yes.”
“Where is he?”
“Dead.”
My stomach tightened.
“When?”
“Six months after Grace's death.”
“Cause?”
“Car accident.”
“Accident?”
Daniel looked at me.
“Officially.”
I hated that word.
“What about the nurse?”
“Dead too.”
“The pediatrician?”
“Retired.”
“Where?”
“Arizona.”
I stood.
“Find him.”
Daniel nodded.
I looked at the file again.
There was another document.
An emergency consent form.
Grace's signature.
I read it.
In the event of my death, infant B is to be placed under temporary protection.
I froze.
“Temporary protection.”
Daniel nodded.
“Someone took Emma.”
“No.”
He hesitated.
“Not exactly.”
“What?”
“She was removed from the hospital.”
“By whom?”
The paperwork named a private agency.
Northstar Family Services.
I had never heard of it.
I ordered a search.
The company existed for eighteen months.
Then disappeared.
Its registered director?
Karen Hale.
Emma's aunt.
My brother's wife.
I stared.
Karen had been involved from the beginning.
My brother's wife.
My brother.
My late wife's sister.
All connected.
“How did I never see this?”
Daniel didn't answer.
Because someone had made sure I couldn't.
I went upstairs.
Emma was awake.
She sat on the edge of the bed.
“Can I go home?”
“You are home.”
She looked confused.
“No.”
“What?”
“Your real home.”
I crouched.
“This is your home now.”
She looked at me.
“Are you sure?”
“Yes.”
“Lily said you are her dad.”
“I am.”
“Then why are you my dad too?”
The question destroyed me.
I didn't have an answer.
I simply opened my arms.
She hesitated.
Then crawled into them.
She was so light.
Too light.
I held her.
“I don't know why they kept us apart.”
She whispered:
“I thought nobody wanted me.”
My eyes burned.
“I wanted you.”
“But you didn't know me.”
“I should have.”
She hugged me tighter.
“I know.”
I kissed her hair.
“You didn't do anything wrong.”
She whispered:
“My mommy said the same thing.”
I froze.
“Your mommy?”
“Yes.”
“Grace?”
She nodded.
“She used to visit me.”
My heart stopped.
“When?”
“When I was little.”
I stared.
“Where?”
“A house.”
“What house?”
“The blue house.”
“Where?”
She shook her head.
“I don't know.”
“Did she tell you her name?”
“She said I could call her Mommy.”
I could barely breathe.
Grace had known.
She had visited our daughter.
For years.
Maybe she hadn't abandoned her.
Maybe she had been trying to protect her.
“Did she tell you about Lily?”
Emma smiled.
“She said I had a sister.”
I closed my eyes.
“How did she know?”
“She showed me pictures.”
“What pictures?”
“Her birthday.”
“Was Lily in them?”
Emma nodded.
Then she said:
“She cried when she left.”
I could no longer speak.
Grace had been alive after the birth.
She hadn't died immediately.
Maybe her death had been staged.
I asked:
“When was the last time you saw her?”
Emma looked at the floor.
“Seven years ago.”
“How old were you?”
“Little.”
“Do you remember?”
“Fire.”
I froze.
“What fire?”
“The house.”
“What house?”
“The blue house.”
“Was your mother there?”
“Yes.”
“Who else?”
Emma's face changed.
“Uncle Marcus.”
I felt cold.
“What did he do?”
She whispered:
“He told Mommy to give me to him.”
I stood.
“Then what happened?”
“He said Daddy couldn't know.”
My heart stopped.
“Why?”
“Because Daddy would come.”
I stared.
She looked at me.
“You came.”
I could not breathe.
My daughter had spent seven years believing I had abandoned her.
When the truth was—
someone had kept me away.
And Grace had tried to warn her.
The next morning, my investigator found the blue house.
It was abandoned.
Inside were children's drawings.
One had my name.
Another had Grace's.
Another showed two little girls holding hands.
Below it, Grace had written:
One day, Daddy will find you.
I stood there for a long time.
Then I saw something else.
A hidden camera.
Still functioning.
Someone had been watching the house.
May you like
And the last access occurred—
three days ago.
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