Chapter 4
The hospital discharged me the next afternoon with strict orders.
No stress.
No heavy activity.
No unnecessary travel.
I almost laughed when Dr. Grant said the word stress.
My entire life had become stress.
Rebecca wanted to place me in a federal safe location.
Nora agreed.
I refused.
“I’m meeting Lila tomorrow.”
“You are thirty-four weeks pregnant,” Rebecca said.
“And she has evidence.”
“She may have evidence.”
“She risked contacting me.”
“She also helped steal your identity.”
“I know.”
Rebecca stared at me.
“You’re not going alone.”
“Fine.”
That was the only compromise she was going to get.
The FBI moved me into a private apartment under another name.
Two agents stayed downstairs.
One stayed across the hall.
For the first time in six years, I slept somewhere Adrian had never touched.
I should have felt relieved.
Instead, I woke at 2:00 a.m. reaching for the empty side of the bed.
Habit was cruel.
I remembered our first year of marriage.
Adrian bringing coffee to bed.
Adrian laughing when I burned dinner.
Adrian holding my hand through the first fertility consultation.
For a while, I had believed he loved me.
Maybe he did.
Or maybe love had simply been another thing he knew how to imitate.
At 9:15 the next morning, Rebecca drove me to the church.
Nora followed in another car.
Two unmarked FBI vehicles stayed several blocks away.
“Technically,” Rebecca said, “this is the opposite of coming alone.”
“Lila doesn’t have to know.”
“She will if she’s paying attention.”
We reached the parking lot at 9:52.
The church was small.
White walls.
Tall wooden doors.
No service that morning.
Only a groundskeeper trimming bushes near the cemetery.
I stepped out.
Rebecca stayed inside the car.
“You have five minutes.”
“Ten.”
“Seven.”
I walked toward the center of the lot.
10:00.
No Lila.
10:03.
Nothing.
10:07.
Rebecca opened her door.
“Enough.”
Then a black SUV entered the lot.
My heart jumped.
It stopped twenty yards away.
The driver’s door opened.
Not Lila.
A man got out.
Gray suit.
Sunglasses.
I froze.
Rebecca was beside me instantly.
“Back in the car.”
The man raised both hands.
“I’m not armed.”
“Identify yourself.”
“My name is Daniel Monroe.”
I stared at him.
“Lila’s father?”
His jaw tightened.
“Yes.”
“Where is she?”
He looked at me.
“That’s what I came to ask you.”
My stomach dropped.
“She contacted me yesterday.”
“She disappeared last night.”
Rebecca stepped forward.
“Mr. Monroe, Agent Sloan, FBI.”
He laughed bitterly.
“Of course.”
“You need to tell me exactly what happened.”
“My daughter called me at eleven. She was crying. She said she had made a terrible mistake.”
“Did she mention Adrian?”
“Yes.”
“What did she say?”
Daniel looked at me.
“She said Adrian Blackwood had lied to her for months. Told her you were unstable. Told her you were secretly stealing family money and that he needed help proving it.”
My nails dug into my palm.
“She believed him?”
“She was twenty-one when she met him.”
Daniel’s voice broke slightly.
“He was thirty-eight, rich, married, and very good at making her feel special.”
I hated hearing something that sounded like a defense of Lila.
Then I remembered Adrian doing the same thing to me.
I had been twenty-six.
Not much older.
“He told her to photograph things in my house.”
Daniel nodded.
“She said she took your passport, tax papers, and medical information.”
Rebecca asked, “Where is she now?”
“I don’t know.”
“When did you last speak?”
“11:14 p.m.”
“Did she say where she was?”
“No.”
“Was anyone following her?”
“She thought so.”
I felt my baby move.
I pressed my hand against my stomach.
Daniel noticed.
His face changed.
“Is the baby all right?”
“For now.”
He looked ashamed.
“My daughter should never have gone to that party.”
“No.”
“I told her not to.”
I met his eyes.
“Did you know she was pregnant?”
He went still.
Rebecca noticed.
“So you did.”
Daniel looked toward the church.
Then he said something I did not expect.
“Lila isn’t pregnant.”
Silence.
“What?”
“She lied.”
My ears rang.
“No.”
“She told me last night.”
I stared at him.
“She was wearing maternity clothes.”
“Padding.”
“She showed ultrasound photographs.”
“Not hers.”
My knees weakened.
Rebecca caught my arm.
I pulled away.
“Why?”
Daniel shook his head.
“She said Adrian asked her to pretend.”
Nothing made sense.
“Adrian introduced her as the mother of his child.”
“I know.”
“His family celebrated her.”
“I know.”
“Why would he fake an heir when I’m carrying his actual baby?”
Daniel’s voice dropped.
“Because they needed everyone to believe your child was no longer important.”
A cold wind moved across the parking lot.
Rebecca asked, “Did Lila explain that?”
“She said Adrian told her the performance at the shower would make you angry enough to leave him publicly.”
Nora had joined us.
“And if she announced divorce before the birth?” Nora asked.
Daniel looked confused.
I wasn’t.
“The trust.”
Nora nodded.
“If the marriage ended before the baby was born, guardianship provisions could become contested.”
Rebecca said, “But that alone wouldn’t give Adrian control.”
“No,” Nora replied. “The fraud charges would.”
My chest tightened.
The plan became clearer.
Humiliate me.
Provoke me into leaving Adrian.
Frame me financially.
Have me arrested.
Then take my baby.
“Lila knew all this?”
Daniel shook his head.
“She says she didn’t understand until she found the transfer documents.”
“Where?”
“In Vivienne Blackwood’s private sitting room.”
I stared at him.
“Vivienne?”
“She went looking for jewelry Adrian promised her. Instead, she found documents with your name.”
Of course.
Lila wanted diamonds.
She found evidence.
Rebecca asked, “Did she take the documents?”
“Photographed them.”
“Where’s the phone?”
Daniel looked at us.
“She hid a backup.”
“Where?”
“She wouldn’t tell me. She said she was afraid I’d be dragged into this.”
Rebecca pulled out her phone.
“We need to locate her vehicle.”
Before she could make the call, the church groundskeeper approached.
“Excuse me.”
Rebecca turned.
“Yes?”
“You folks waiting for a young blond woman?”
Every muscle in my body tightened.
“Yes.”
The man pointed toward the side of the church.
“She came by early. Around seven.”
Daniel stepped forward.
“Where is she?”
“She left something.”
He handed Rebecca a small brass key.
“She said if a pregnant woman showed up, give her this.”
Rebecca stared at it.
“Did she say what it opens?”
“No.”
I looked at the church.
“Could be inside.”
The groundskeeper nodded.
“Storage lockers in the basement.”
Rebecca ordered everyone to stay behind her.
We entered through a side door.
The basement smelled like old books and cleaning supplies.
A row of metal lockers lined one wall.
The key had a number engraved on it.
18.
Rebecca opened locker eighteen.
Inside was a brown envelope.
Nothing else.
She pulled on gloves.
Opened it.
Photographs slid onto a table.
Transfers.
Invoices.
Emails.
One showed a message from Vivienne to an accountant.
MOVE FINAL LIABILITY TO HER BEFORE DELIVERY.
My stomach twisted.
Another email.
ADRIAN WILL HANDLE THE DOMESTIC SIDE.
Another.
CONRAD CANNOT KNOW THE FULL PLAN UNTIL AFTER THE RAID.
Rebecca looked at me.
“Conrad didn’t know?”
“Apparently not all of it.”
Nora picked up another page.
“Look.”
It was an invoice.
The fertility clinic.
A payment of seventy-five thousand dollars to Dr. Malcolm Pierce.
My former fertility specialist.
My hands started shaking.
“He was my doctor.”
Rebecca took the page.
“What was the payment for?”
The description read:
CONSULTING SERVICES.
There was another page beneath it.
A copied email.
Vivienne to Dr. Pierce.
I REQUIRE COMPLETE ACCESS TO HER FILES, INCLUDING IDENTIFICATION FORMS AND EMBRYO RECORDS.
I couldn’t breathe.
“Embryo records?”
Nora turned toward me.
“Did you use IVF?”
“Yes.”
“Are embryos still stored at the clinic?”
“One.”
Rebecca’s expression hardened.
The envelope contained one final photograph.
A computer screen.
An internal clinic record.
My name.
Adrian’s name.
Embryo identification numbers.
And beside one entry, in red letters:
PATERNITY SAMPLE REASSIGNED.
I stared at the screen.
“What does that mean?”
Nobody answered.
“What does that mean?”
Rebecca reached for her phone.
“We’re going to ask Dr. Pierce.”
My baby kicked hard.
I grabbed the table.
Because suddenly the money was no longer the most frightening secret.
The Blackwoods had not only stolen my identity.
May you like
They had interfered with my fertility treatment.
And I had no idea whose biological child I was carrying.
