Chapter 13 - The Second Birth Certificate
Briar Glen’s records department discovered the breach at 4:26 p.m.
Someone had accessed Caleb’s preliminary birth registration.
The mother’s information had been altered.
Leah Carver remained listed as biological mother.
But a pending note had been added.
MATERNAL CAPACITY UNDER REVIEW.
The discharge destination had been changed.
PATERNAL FAMILY PLACEMENT.
Mae stared at the screen.
“That isn’t a legal order.”
Detective Mills agreed.
“But it creates confusion.”
“And confusion creates opportunity.”
Leah knew exactly what Doreen wanted.
If one nurse believed another department had approved the transfer, Caleb could move.
If one clerk believed a court order existed, paperwork could be generated.
If one security guard believed the family was authorized, a door could open.
Doreen did not need the whole system.
She needed three people to make three small mistakes.
The hospital moved Leah and Caleb to a secure pediatric floor under assumed room information.
Mae requested permission to remain assigned to them.
It was granted.
Simone was transferred too after she began having contractions from stress.
Her baby was not coming yet.
She still refused to leave Leah alone.
At six, Nathan’s phone rang.
Police had temporarily returned it as part of a monitored call.
Doreen.
Nathan answered on speaker.
“Mom.”
Her voice was perfectly calm.
“You disappointed me.”
Nathan started crying.
“You lied to me.”
“I protected you.”
“You were taking my son.”
“I was preserving your son.”
Leah’s hands curled.
Nathan asked.
“Where are you?”
“You don’t need to know.”
“Turn yourself in.”
Doreen laughed softly.
“Is that Leah speaking through you now?”
Nathan looked at Leah.
“No.”
“For thirty-four years, I cleaned up your failures.”
“Stop.”
“School.”
“Debt.”
“Your marriage.”
“Stop.”
“Do you think Leah would have chosen you if I hadn’t arranged that introduction?”
Leah froze.
Nathan did too.
“What?”
Doreen continued.
“You think meeting her at the museum fundraiser was an accident?”
Nathan looked sick.
Leah remembered that night.
Doreen had introduced them.
She claimed Nathan happened to be volunteering.
He had seemed charming.
Awkward.
Gentle.
Safe.
Doreen had selected Leah years before Caleb existed.
Why?
Leah leaned toward the phone.
“You wanted my family name.”
Silence.
Doreen finally answered.
“I wanted stability.”
“My father’s connections.”
“Your father was respectable.”
“My money?”
“You had enough.”
Nathan whispered.
“Mom, what did you do?”
Doreen ignored him.
Her voice became colder.
“Leah, you have one opportunity.”
“For what?”
“Stop cooperating.”
“No.”
“Withdraw your statements.”
“No.”
“Tell police you misunderstood.”
“No.”
Doreen sighed.
“Then I’ll show everyone exactly what kind of mother you are.”
The call ended.
Within minutes, Leah’s phone began receiving messages.
Old photographs.
A video of her crying after a miscarriage two years earlier.
Private messages she had sent Nathan about depression after the loss.
Doreen had saved everything.
Then came the final file.
A video.
Leah pressed play.
She saw herself asleep in her own bedroom.
Someone stood beside the bed holding a camera.
Then Nathan entered the frame.
He looked directly into the lens.
May you like
And said.
“She’ll never know.”
