Chapter 15 - The Two Babies
Marcus sat down when he heard Rachel’s name.
Not because he was shocked she had given birth.
Because she had always told him she couldn’t.
Marcus and Rachel met eighteen years ago.
Two years after the clinic.
They married within a year.
When they decided to adopt, Rachel suggested the agency.
The Cross Foundation.
Evan came home six months later.
Marcus believed both of them were becoming parents for the first time.
Rachel died five years ago from cancer.
She took the truth with her.
Or so we thought.
“She had a baby before me.”
Marcus whispered.
Detective Cole nodded.
“Yes.”
“Why didn’t she tell me?”
“We don’t know.”
“Was Evan hers?”
The DNA test gave us the answer within hours.
Yes.
Evan Reed was Rachel Reed’s biological son.
Marcus stared at him.
Evan looked equally stunned.
“She adopted her own child?”
I asked.
Detective Cole shook his head.
“Legally, yes.”
“Why?”
“That is what we need to understand.”
The clinic paperwork showed Rachel had delivered a boy.
Records then claimed the infant died six hours later.
Two years afterward, Rachel adopted Evan.
Her own son.
Under another identity.
Somebody had taken him from her.
Then returned him.
Why?
Samuel answered indirectly.
A package arrived at Hale House.
Inside was a cassette tape.
Rachel’s handwriting.
MARCUS.
We found an old recorder.
Marcus pressed play.
Rachel’s voice filled the room.
“Marcus, if you’re hearing this, something has gone wrong.”
Marcus covered his mouth.
Evan closed his eyes.
“I need you to know that I loved you.”
The tape crackled.
“I also need you to know I lied about Evan.”
Marcus began crying silently.
“He is my biological son.”
Evan looked down.
“When I was twenty-two, I became pregnant.”
“I was unmarried.”
“My parents were furious.”
“I went to a clinic in Vermont because a friend said they helped women privately.”
“I delivered a boy.”
“They told me he died.”
“I believed them.”
The room became completely still.
“Two years later, I saw a photograph at the Cross Foundation.”
“A little boy.”
“He had my eyes.”
“I knew.”
“I asked questions.”
“Julian Cross told me I was grieving.”
“I didn’t stop.”
“Eventually he admitted the child was mine.”
Marcus whispered.
“Jesus.”
“He said there had been an illegal adoption arrangement.”
“He told me if I reported it, the people responsible would disappear Evan forever.”
“So I agreed to adopt him through their agency.”
“I told myself I was protecting him.”
“I told myself the lie was worth it.”
Then her voice changed.
“But there was another baby.”
I leaned closer.
“A woman named Vanessa delivered the same night.”
“I heard her screaming for her son.”
“I saw a man carry one infant out.”
“I don’t know which child it was.”
“Years later, I began to suspect Julian switched our babies.”
Evan looked at Marcus.
The tape continued.
“I believe Vanessa’s biological son was placed with someone else.”
“I believe Julian kept track of both boys.”
“And I believe he did it because one of them controls something in the Hale family.”
The recording stopped.
Marcus rewound it.
There was more.
A second section.
“Arthur Hale contacted me years later.”
“He knew.”
“He told me to keep Evan safe.”
“He promised he would find Vanessa’s child.”
“He never told me if he succeeded.”
Then the final sentence.
“But Marcus, if anyone ever says Adrian Cross died in that car accident, do not believe them.”
Evan looked up.
My pulse accelerated.
Rachel continued.
“I saw Adrian alive three years after his funeral.”
The tape clicked off.
Nobody moved.
Adrian was alive.
The passport wasn’t fake.
Julian’s son had survived.
Which meant the Hale conspiracy had been built around a man pretending to be dead for nearly two decades.
“Why fake Adrian’s death?”
Daniel asked.
I looked at Julian’s photograph.
“Maybe because he discovered where Vanessa’s real son went.”
Marcus stood.
“I want Julian arrested.”
Detective Cole sighed.
“So do I.”
“Then do it.”
“We need evidence of a crime within statute and jurisdiction.”
“Forgery.”
“We’re building it.”
“Kidnapping.”
“We don’t yet know who did it.”
“Fraud.”
“Yes.”
“Drugging Margaret.”
“Still building.”
Marcus slammed his palm against the table.
“My wife lived twenty years believing someone stole her baby.”
Evan stood beside him.
“Dad.”
Marcus looked at him.
Evan hugged him.
That slowed the anger.
Not the determination.
Daniel approached me later.
I didn’t want to speak to him.
He knew.
“Claire.”
“No.”
“I need to tell you one more thing.”
I laughed bitterly.
“Of course you do.”
“The night your father died.”
I looked at him.
“I didn’t only call Julian.”
My stomach tightened.
“What else?”
“I called Arthur.”
I stared.
“Your father was dead.”
“No.”
Daniel’s eyes met mine.
“Thomas died eight years ago.”
“Yes.”
“My father died four years ago.”
I suddenly understood.
Arthur had still been alive.
Daniel continued.
“I told Dad Thomas was going to confront Julian.”
“What did Arthur do?”
“He sent Marcus.”
Marcus overheard.
“What?”
Daniel turned.
“You don’t remember?”
“No.”
“You were sent to the highway.”
Marcus went still.
My heart pounded.
“Marcus.”
He looked at me.
“There was a crash that night.”
I could barely breathe.
“You were there?”
“I arrived afterward.”
“You knew it was my father?”
“No.”
“Did you see anyone?”
Marcus’s expression changed.
“Yes.”
“Who?”
“A man standing beside another car.”
“Who?”
Marcus looked toward the old photograph of Adrian Cross.
“I thought I was imagining it.”
May you like
“Marcus.”
“It was Adrian.”
