Chapter 6 - The Grave That Held No ChildI returned to Chicago on a rainy Thursday morning.
I had sworn I would never return.
But there are promises a mother cannot keep when her children may still be alive.
Nathan came with me.
Lily stayed in Vermont with Nathan's sister, Rachel, and two trusted family friends.
I hated leaving her.
But I couldn't bring her into the city where people had once tried to erase her existence.
Thomas met us at the airport.
He looked exhausted.
"There's been progress," he said.
"Tell me."
He handed me a folder.
Inside was a photograph of a boy approximately eight years old.
He had dark hair.
A narrow face.
And familiar blue eyes.
My knees weakened.
Nathan caught my arm.
"Claire?"
I couldn't speak.
The boy in the photograph looked like my father.
Not a little.
Exactly.
I touched the picture.
"What's his name?"
Thomas swallowed.
"Samuel."
"Where is he?"
"He was placed with a family in Wisconsin through an adoption agency that's now under investigation."
I stared at him.
"He's alive?"
"We have strong evidence, but identity testing is still needed."
I began crying.
For years, I had imagined my second child buried beneath a small stone in the Moretti cemetery.
I had visited that grave.
I had brought flowers.
I had whispered apologies.
Now I was looking at a photograph of a boy who might be mine.
"Why didn't anyone tell me?"
Thomas looked away.
"The hospital records indicate that the child was transferred shortly after birth."
I shook my head.
"But Sophia attacked me. I was told the baby died."
Nathan put his hand over mine.
Thomas continued.
"The death certificate appears to have been falsified."
I covered my mouth.
"Who arranged it?"
He hesitated.
"Margaret."
I closed my eyes.
A sound escaped my throat that didn't feel human.
I had lost years.
Birthdays.
First words.
First steps.
Every small moment a mother should have been allowed to witness.
And all because someone had decided my children were inconvenient.
Nathan held me as I cried.
But the worst revelation came that evening.
Vincent requested a meeting.
I refused at first.
Then Thomas explained that Vincent had obtained information about Samuel's adoptive placement.
So I agreed to meet him in a conference room at my attorney's office.
When Vincent entered, he stopped.
For a moment, we simply looked at each other.
Then he saw the photograph in my hands.
His face changed.
"Claire."
I stood.
"Did you know?"
He shook his head.
"Never."
"Did you know our son was alive?"
His eyes filled with tears.
"No."
I moved toward him.
"Did you know your mother was taking our children?"
He swallowed.
"Claire, I swear—"
I slapped him.
He didn't move.
I slapped him again.
Seventeen years of marriage.
Three pregnancies.
Three funerals.
Five years of hiding.
And now the possibility that my son had been growing up somewhere without knowing me.
I hit his chest with both fists.
"You were supposed to protect us!"
Vincent stood still.
"You promised!"
His tears began falling.
"I know."
"You chose Sophia!"
"I know."
"You let your mother control everything!"
"I know."
I stepped backward.
"Then don't ask me to forgive you."
He shook his head.
"I'm not asking."
I stared at him.
He looked broken.
But I had learned that a broken man could still be dangerous.
Vincent placed a folder on the table.
"There's an address."
Thomas reached for it.
Vincent continued.
"Samuel lives with a couple named Andrew and Rebecca Miller. They're good people. They believe his birth mother died."
My heart shattered all over again.
Vincent looked at me.
"They didn't know he was stolen."
I sat down.
Nathan moved beside me.
Vincent watched us.
Something painful passed across his face.
Then he looked away.
"I'll help you find him," he said.
I stared at the photograph.
"And when we do?"
Vincent's voice broke.
"Then you decide what happens next."
For the first time in twenty years, Vincent Moretti was offering me a choice instead of making one for me.
But before we could arrange the meeting, Thomas received an urgent call.
His expression darkened.
"What happened?"
He listened.
May you like
Then he looked at us.
"Samuel's family has disappeared."
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