Chapter 6
I couldn't speak.
The woman on the phone was crying quietly.
Not dramatic crying.
Not Patricia’s theatrical sobs.
This was different.
She sounded like someone trying desperately not to fall apart.
“Emily?”
I looked at Richard.
He knew.
I could see it.
“Who are you?”
“My name is Laura Bennett.”
I had never heard that name.
“Where are you?”
“Not far.”
“That doesn't answer me.”
“I know.”
My anger rose.
“Did you send those men?”
“No!”
Her answer came so quickly I believed her.
“Did you know my father?”
“Robert?”
“Yes.”
Her voice softened.
“He saved your life.”
I closed my eyes.
“What does that mean?”
“Not over the phone.”
Daniel took the phone from my shaking hand.
“This is Daniel Walker.”
Silence.
Then Laura whispered, “Thomas’s son.”
Daniel stiffened.
“You knew my father?”
“Yes.”
“Did he hurt Emily?”
“No.”
“Did he steal her?”
“No.”
“Then tell us what happened.”
“I can't explain thirty-three years in one phone call.”
“Try.”
Laura breathed unevenly.
“Patricia is not Emily’s mother.”
“We know that.”
“Thomas is not her father.”
“We think we know that.”
“And you are not related.”
Daniel looked at me.
The tension in his shoulders loosened slightly.
“How can you prove it?”
“I have the original hospital records.”
Richard interrupted.
“Laura, don’t.”
She heard him.
“Richard?”
His face tightened.
“You shouldn't have called.”
“You sent her the tape.”
“I was trying to protect her.”
“You’ve been ‘protecting’ her for thirty-three years.”
My anger exploded.
“Stop!”
Everyone went silent.
I gripped the phone.
“No more protecting me.”
Laura started crying again.
“I’m sorry.”
“You don’t get to say that yet.”
“I know.”
“Where are you?”
She gave me an address.
A motel outside town.
Daniel wrote it down.
“We’ll come tomorrow,” he said.
“No,” Laura replied. “Tonight.”
“Emily just left the hospital.”
“Then I’ll come there.”
Richard shook his head violently.
“Absolutely not.”
I looked at him.
“Why?”
“Because someone followed her.”
Laura became silent.
That told me Richard was right.
“You’re being watched?” I asked.
“Yes.”
“By who?”
“I don't know.”
Richard said, “The same people who came here.”
Daniel stared at him.
“You said Foundation.”
“It’s complicated.”
“I’m getting tired of that phrase.”
Richard sat down.
“The foundation officially dissolved twelve years ago.”
“But?”
“But some of the people involved remained connected.”
“Who?”
“Lawyers. Doctors. Former administrators.”
“And Patricia?”
Richard didn't answer.
Daniel stepped toward him.
“Was my mother involved?”
“Yes.”
I felt the room change.
“How involved?”
“She kept records.”
“For the foundation?”
“At first.”
“At first?”
Richard looked at me.
“Later, she used them.”
“For blackmail?”
“Yes.”
Daniel cursed.
The woman on the phone whispered, “She ruined lives.”
Richard stared at the phone.
“So did you.”
Laura's voice hardened.
“I was seventeen.”
Silence.
Even Richard looked ashamed.
I whispered, “You were seventeen when you had me?”
“Yes.”
“Why did you give me away?”
“I didn't.”
My breath caught.
“What?”
“They told me you died.”
Rachel covered her mouth.
Daniel looked sick.
Laura continued.
“I woke up after delivery and they said you had stopped breathing.”
My eyes filled with tears.
“I asked to see you.”
She sobbed.
“They wouldn't let me.”
I couldn't breathe.
“Who told you?”
“A doctor.”
“What doctor?”
“Dr. Martin Vale.”
Richard closed his eyes.
He knew the name.
Daniel saw it.
“Who was he?”
“The foundation’s medical director.”
I gripped the couch.
“So they told her I died and gave me to my parents?”
Laura said, “I learned you were alive seven years later.”
“How?”
“Thomas Walker came to me.”
Daniel looked stunned.
“My father?”
“Yes.”
“He found you?”
“He apologized.”
“For what?”
“He said he discovered what his father had done.”
Daniel sat down.
Laura continued.
“Thomas gave me a photograph of you.”
My throat tightened.
“You were seven?”
“Yes.”
The memory.
My mother shouting at Dad.
You promised that woman would never come near Emily.
Maybe the woman had been Laura.
I whispered, “Did you try to see me?”
“Yes.”
“Did my parents stop you?”
Silence.
That silence broke something inside me.
“Laura.”
“I went to their house.”
My heart pounded.
“Your mother was terrified.”
“Susan?”
“Yes.”
“She thought I was going to take you.”
“Were you?”
“I don't know.”
The honesty hurt.
“I was twenty-four. Angry. Broken. I had spent seven years mourning a child who was alive.”
Tears rolled down my face.
“I wanted to see you.”
“Did you?”
“Yes.”
My breath stopped.
“When?”
“At a playground.”
A memory surfaced.
A woman sitting on a bench.
Dark hair.
Red coat.
She had smiled at me.
Then my father had rushed across the playground, picked me up, and carried me away.
I remembered him arguing with someone behind us.
My voice shook.
“You wore a red coat.”
Laura gasped.
“Oh God.”
Rachel started crying.
Daniel finally touched me.
His hand covered mine.
“You remember.”
“Barely.”
Laura whispered, “You had yellow boots.”
I broke.
I started sobbing.
Daniel wrapped his arms around me.
My stomach tightened painfully.
He pulled back immediately.
“Are you having another contraction?”
I nodded.
Rachel grabbed the timer on her phone.
Richard stood.
“We need to get her back to the hospital.”
“I’m fine.”
Daniel stared at me.
“No.”
“Daniel—”
“You’re thirty-four weeks pregnant.”
“Thirty-five tomorrow.”
“That does not make me feel better.”
Another contraction came eight minutes later.
Then another.
Seven minutes.
Daniel grabbed the hospital bag.
Laura was still on the phone.
“I’m coming.”
Richard shouted, “No!”
I snapped, “She’s my mother.”
The word felt strange.
Mother.
Not Mom.
Mom was Susan.
Susan had held me when I had nightmares.
Susan taught me to drive.
Susan cried when I got married.
Susan died believing the secret would remain buried.
Laura was something different.
Blood.
History.
Pain.
Maybe truth.
But not yet Mom.
We drove to the hospital.
Laura met us there.
I recognized her immediately.
Not because I remembered her face.
Because she looked like me.
Same eyes.
Same chin.
Same way of pressing her lips together when nervous.
She stood near the maternity entrance wearing a plain sweater and jeans.
She looked terrified.
When I got out of the car, she didn't move toward me.
She waited.
That mattered.
I walked slowly toward her.
Daniel stayed beside me.
Laura’s eyes dropped to my belly.
Then filled with tears.
“My granddaughter.”
The word hit me.
I didn't answer.
She looked at me again.
“You’re beautiful.”
I swallowed.
“Please don't.”
“I’m sorry.”
We went inside.
The nurses admitted me again.
This time I was dilated two centimeters.
My doctor looked worried.
“We may be dealing with preterm labor.”
Daniel’s face tightened.
“Can you stop it?”
“We'll try.”
While medication dripped into my IV, Laura sat across the room.
Richard stayed in the hallway.
Rachel paced.
Daniel refused to leave my bedside.
I finally looked at Laura.
“Show me the records.”
She pulled an old envelope from her bag.
Inside was a hospital bracelet.
LAURA BENNETT.
BABY GIRL BENNETT.
Birth date.
My birthday.
Then a photograph.
A newborn.
Tiny.
Wrapped in a white blanket.
On the back someone had written:
Baby transferred 6:10 a.m.
I felt sick.
“Transferred where?”
“Walker Foundation maternity home.”
Daniel cursed under his breath.
Another paper documented my death.
Cause:
Respiratory failure.
But there was no physician signature.
No burial permit.
No death certificate number.
Laura pointed at it.
“It was fake.”
I stared at the papers.
“My parents knew?”
“Not at first.”
“What does that mean?”
“They were told I had voluntarily surrendered you.”
I looked at Richard.
He stood in the doorway.
“Is that true?”
He nodded.
“Robert and Susan believed the adoption was legal.”
“For how long?”
Richard looked miserable.
“Seven years.”
My heart broke again.
“When Laura appeared.”
“Yes.”
“So my parents discovered they had been given a stolen baby.”
Nobody answered.
I whispered, “And they kept me.”
Laura’s tears returned.
“They loved you.”
“That isn't the point.”
“I know.”
“Why didn't they go to the police?”
Richard answered.
“Because by then, the foundation threatened them.”
“With what?”
“With losing you.”
I shook my head.
“How?”
“Patricia had access to documents that made it look as if Robert had knowingly purchased an infant.”
Daniel whispered, “She blackmailed them.”
“Yes.”
Laura looked at me.
“Your parents were terrified you would be placed into foster care during an investigation.”
I closed my eyes.
It was horrible.
Messy.
Human.
My parents had been victims.
Then they had made a choice.
A choice to keep me.
A choice that cost Laura decades.
Before I could speak, a nurse entered.
“Emily, your contractions are getting closer.”
Daniel stood.
“What do we do?”
The nurse pressed a button.
“Doctor is coming.”
Another contraction hit.
Hard.
I screamed.
Daniel grabbed my hand.
Laura stood instinctively.
Then stopped herself.
The doctor rushed in.
Everything moved quickly after that.
Examination.
Monitors.
Medication.
Concerned faces.
The doctor looked at me.
“Emily, you’re four centimeters.”
Daniel went white.
“That fast?”
“Yes.”
“Can you stop it?”
“We may not be able to.”
I looked at the clock.
My baby wasn't supposed to come for another five weeks.
Fear swallowed everything else.
“Will she be okay?”
“We have an excellent neonatal team.”
That was not the answer I wanted.
Daniel kissed my forehead.
“I’m here.”
Laura stood in the corner.
Crying silently.
Then the hospital door opened.
A police officer entered.
“Mr. Walker?”
Daniel turned.
“We need to speak with you.”
“Now?”
“It concerns your mother.”
My stomach tightened again.
“What happened?”
The officer looked at both of us.
“Patricia Walker has been released.”
Daniel stared at him.
“What?”
“She posted bail.”
“How?”
The officer hesitated.
“Someone paid it.”
“Who?”
“We’re still confirming that.”
Then Daniel’s phone rang.
His mother.
He answered.
“Where are you?”
Patricia's voice came through loud enough for me to hear.
“You should worry less about me.”
Daniel froze.
“Mom.”
“And more about your father.”
“My father is dead.”
Patricia laughed softly.
“No, Daniel.”
Everyone in the room went silent.
May you like
Then she said,
“That’s just another lie they told you.”
