Chapter 7 - The Child My Mother Tried to Claim
Law enforcement reached St. Anne’s before we did.
Tom insisted on that.
By the time my father and I arrived, two detectives were already speaking with hospital administration.
Rebecca was in the maternity waiting area.
So was Caleb.
I stopped walking.
My father did too.
Caleb had left Reeves Development less than three hours earlier.
He had apparently gone straight to Rebecca.
They stood together near the elevators.
For one strange second, they looked like a married couple waiting for their child.
Then Rebecca saw us.
Her face drained.
“Daniel.”
My father looked at Caleb.
“So much for three weeks.”
Caleb said nothing.
Rebecca stepped forward.
“What are you doing here?”
I almost laughed.
“What are you doing here?”
She looked toward the maternity doors.
“Monica is a friend.”
“A friend whose rent Northbridge pays?”
Rebecca froze.
Caleb’s expression changed.
There.
Finally.
He knew we had found more.
My father spoke.
“We found Project Lily.”
Rebecca looked at Caleb.
That one glance confirmed everything.
Caleb whispered, “How?”
My father laughed bitterly.
“You’re asking the wrong question.”
Rebecca moved closer.
“Daniel, please.”
“No.”
“This is not what you think.”
My father stared at her.
“You were going to put another woman’s child in my house and tell me she was mine.”
Rebecca’s face crumpled.
“She was going to be ours.”
“No.”
“She was going to be a baby who needed a family.”
“Then you adopt legally.”
“You do not fake six months of pregnancy.”
“You do not forge trust documents.”
“You do not steal company money.”
Caleb interrupted.
“Careful.”
My father turned.
“What?”
“Do not make accusations you cannot prove.”
Tom, standing several feet away, almost smiled.
My father looked at Caleb.
“I can prove enough.”
The maternity doors opened.
A nurse approached.
“Family of Monica Ellis?”
Rebecca immediately stepped forward.
“Yes.”
The nurse looked at her.
“Relationship?”
Rebecca hesitated.
“Her sister.”
I stared.
Another lie.
The nurse looked toward the detectives.
Something passed between them.
Then a detective stepped in.
“Mrs. Reeves, we need to speak privately.”
Rebecca backed away.
“Why?”
“Questions involving financial arrangements with Ms. Ellis.”
Caleb moved closer.
“She needs an attorney.”
The detective looked at him.
“And you are?”
“Caleb Morgan.”
“Relationship?”
Silence.
My father answered.
“My wife’s boyfriend.”
Several people turned.
Rebecca closed her eyes.
I almost felt embarrassed for her.
Almost.
The detective escorted Rebecca and Caleb to separate rooms.
My father sat.
His hands shook.
“Are you okay?”
“No.”
At least he had stopped pretending.
An hour passed.
Then two.
Monica delivered a baby girl at 4:18 p.m.
Six pounds, two ounces.
Healthy.
I learned those details from Tom.
My father did not ask to see her.
That mattered.
The child had nothing to do with us.
She was not Lily.
She was a baby born into adults’ schemes.
At six, Monica asked to speak with police.
At seven, she asked for a lawyer.
At eight, she asked to speak with me.
That surprised everyone.
“Why me?”
Tom shrugged.
“She requested Daniel’s daughter.”
My father objected.
I went anyway.
Monica looked exhausted.
She held the baby against her chest.
Seeing her hurt.
Not because I thought the child belonged to us.
Because I imagined my father holding her under a false name.
Loving her.
Building a life around another lie.
Monica looked at me.
“You’re Anna.”
“Yes.”
“You look like him.”
“My father?”
“Yes.”
She glanced at the baby.
“I’m keeping her.”
Relief hit me.
“Good.”
Monica looked surprised.
“You don’t want her?”
“No.”
She stared at me.
“I thought Rebecca said you were obsessed with controlling your father’s money.”
Of course she had.
“What did she tell you?”
“That if Daniel knew the baby wasn’t biologically his, you would force him to abandon her.”
I laughed bitterly.
“She used me as the villain with everyone.”
Monica looked ashamed.
“She told me you hated children.”
“I volunteer at a literacy program.”
“Oh.”
I almost smiled.
“What did Mom offer you?”
Monica looked down.
“Two hundred thousand dollars.”
“For the baby?”
“For adoption.”
“Through an agency?”
“No.”
“Lawyers?”
“One.”
“Martin Keene?”
Her eyes lifted.
“Yes.”
My stomach turned.
The same attorney.
“What did he tell you?”
“That private adoption was legal.”
“Did he know Rebecca was faking a pregnancy?”
“I think so.”
“Why?”
“He asked me to sign a confidentiality agreement saying I would never claim maternity publicly.”
Monica swallowed.
“He also told me I could not contact the child until she turned eighteen.”
I looked at the baby.
“Why did you agree?”
Monica’s eyes filled.
“My boyfriend owes money.”
“Trevor?”
She looked surprised.
“You know.”
“Yes.”
“He said we could start over.”
“Did you want to give up your baby?”
Silence.
Then she whispered, “No.”
My throat tightened.
“Then don’t.”
Monica started crying.
“Rebecca said once money changed hands I couldn’t back out.”
“That is not how legal adoption works.”
“I know that now.”
She hugged the baby closer.
“Trevor said he would leave if I ruined the deal.”
I hated him immediately.
“Then let him.”
She laughed through tears.
“That’s easy to say.”
“Yes.”
I leaned forward.
“But your daughter will live with your decision longer than Trevor will.”
Monica cried harder.
After a moment, she whispered, “Rebecca scared me.”
“How?”
“She said Caleb could ruin my life.”
“What does that mean?”
“She said Northbridge knew about Trevor’s identity fraud.”
“If we backed out, she said they would give everything to police.”
My skin crawled.
Coercion.
Money.
Secrets.
Same pattern.
“Did Rebecca ever tell you why she needed your baby?”
Monica nodded.
“To save her marriage.”
“That’s all?”
“No.”
I waited.
“She said Daniel would never divorce the mother of his infant.”
My father had apparently been emotionally predictable.
Rebecca counted on it.
Monica continued.
“She said she needed one year.”
“Why one year?”
“She never told me.”
That was new.
We knew about the anniversary in six weeks.
What happened a year later?
“What exactly did she say?”
Monica thought.
“She said, ‘If Daniel stays until next spring, I win everything.’”
My stomach tightened.
Next spring.
Not the anniversary.
There was another deadline.
“Did she say what she wins?”
“No.”
“Anything else?”
“She talked about his company.”
“What did she say?”
“That Caleb would finally run it.”
I stood.
“Thank you.”
Monica looked frightened.
“Am I going to jail?”
“I don’t know.”
“I didn’t take the money yet.”
“That matters.”
She looked at the baby.
“What should I name her?”
The question surprised me.
I almost laughed.
“Anything except Lily.”
Monica smiled weakly.
“I was thinking Rose.”
“Rose is good.”
When I returned to the hallway, my father stood immediately.
“What did she say?”
“Mom needed you to stay married until next spring.”
He frowned.
“Why?”
“I don’t know.”
Susan did.
Her face changed the moment I repeated it.
“Daniel.”
“What?”
“When does the Reeves Development founder stock restriction expire?”
My father became completely still.
“March.”
I looked between them.
“What is that?”
My father stared at the floor.
“When I took private equity investment fifteen years ago, I signed a founder control agreement.”
“And?”
“Until next March, any marital transfer of my voting shares requires board approval.”
“After March?”
He looked at me.
“They become fully transferable.”
My stomach dropped.
“So the anniversary was step one.”
Susan nodded.
“Next March was step two.”
The fake baby was supposed to prevent divorce through the anniversary.
The real baby was supposed to keep my father emotionally trapped until March.
Then Rebecca would control trust shares.
Caleb would gain influence.
And once founder restrictions expired, they could move ownership without board approval.
It was not a six-month plan.
It was a fourteen-month takeover.
My father sat down slowly.
Then his phone rang.
Reeves Development security.
He answered.
“What happened?”
His face changed.
“When?”
He stood.
“I’m coming.”
He hung up.
“What?”
I asked.
“Someone entered my office.”
“Who?”
“Security camera shows Rebecca.”
My stomach dropped.
“She’s here.”
“No.”
My father looked toward the interrogation rooms.
Rebecca was still at the hospital.
He corrected himself.
“Someone using Rebecca’s access badge.”
Susan frowned.
“What was taken?”
My father’s expression turned pale.
“The founder stock certificates.”
And just like that, we understood why Rebecca and Caleb had allowed themselves to be detained at the hospital.
May you like
Someone else was still working for them.
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