Chapter 4
Patricia Hayes had been part of my family for twenty-eight years.
She attended every birthday.
Every Thanksgiving.
Every Christmas.
She held my babies when they were born.
She was the woman who brought casseroles when my mother died.
And now I was looking at a photograph of her standing beside the man who had apparently stolen my reproductive tissue.
"That can't be Patricia," I whispered.
Christopher took the photograph.
His jaw tightened.
"It is."
I stared at him.
"Did you know she was involved?"
"No."
"Christopher."
"I swear."
I wanted to believe him.
But I had already heard too many secrets that night.
Dr. Miller asked the officer to send the photograph to the investigators.
Then he arranged for Leah and Daisy to stay in a secured maternity room.
I remained with them.
Christopher went outside to speak with the police.
For the first time, I didn't follow my husband.
I didn't want him answering questions for me.
I wanted answers of my own.
Leah sat on the bed with Daisy against her chest.
"I'm sorry," she whispered.
I turned toward her.
"For what?"
"For bringing all of this into your life."
I sat beside her.
"Leah, someone used my body without my permission twenty-five years ago."
My voice shook.
"None of that was your fault."
She wiped her cheeks.
"I thought helping a family would make something good come out of everything I'd been through."
I looked at Daisy.
"You did bring something good into the world."
Leah smiled weakly.
"She's beautiful, isn't she?"
I laughed through my tears.
"She's perfect."
We sat quietly for a while.
Then Leah asked something that broke my heart.
"Do you want to be her mother?"
I stared at her.
She looked frightened.
"As soon as I heard about you, I thought maybe you'd want to take her away."
"Oh, sweetheart."
I reached for her hand.
"I would never do that."
"But she's biologically yours."
"And you carried her for nine months."
Leah looked down.
"I sang to her every night."
"Then she already knows your voice."
Her tears fell onto the blanket.
I squeezed her hand.
"Whatever those papers say, Daisy is your daughter. I'm not here to replace you."
Leah began crying harder.
"Thank you."
I looked at Daisy.
"And if you ever want me in her life, I'd consider that a gift."
Leah rested her forehead against mine.
For a moment, we were just two women holding a baby between us.
Neither of us understood how we had become connected.
But I knew one thing.
I wouldn't let anyone hurt them.
An hour later, Christopher returned.
He looked twenty years older.
"The police want to speak with you tomorrow," he said.
"Fine."
"Rebecca, can we talk?"
I looked at Leah.
She nodded.
"I'll be okay."
I followed Christopher into an empty waiting room.
He closed the door.
"Please hear me out."
I crossed my arms.
"I'm listening."
He sat down.
For several seconds, he stared at his hands.
Then he said, "Patricia introduced me to Victor Lang."
My heart stopped.
"What?"
"Twenty-five years ago."
I stepped backward.
"You knew him personally?"
Christopher nodded.
"Patricia worked in the laboratory's accounting office."
I tried to remember.
Patricia had told us she worked for a medical company.
She had never mentioned Westbridge.
Christopher continued.
"When you needed surgery, Patricia recommended the clinic."
My throat tightened.
I remembered Patricia arranging the appointment.
I remembered her telling me Victor was an excellent surgeon.
I remembered thanking her.
"She knew him?"
"Yes."
"And you never told me?"
"I thought you knew."
I stared at him.
"Don't you dare."
Christopher closed his eyes.
"You're right."
I stood over him.
"Tell me everything."
He finally looked up.
"When you were recovering, Victor told me he'd found healthy ovarian tissue that could be preserved for research."
I felt nauseated.
"He said the clinic was studying ways to help women have children later in life."
"And you signed?"
"I signed a document saying they could preserve tissue that had already been removed."
"Did you read it?"
He hesitated.
"Not carefully."
I looked away.
"Of course you didn't."
"Rebecca, I believed him."
"That's not an excuse."
"I know."
I leaned against the wall.
For years, I had told myself that our marriage was built on trust.
Now I was trying to understand how a single signature had become a secret lasting twenty-five years.
Christopher continued.
"About six months after your surgery, Patricia told me the research program had ended."
"And?"
"She said the tissue had been destroyed."
I looked at him.
"Did you ever ask for proof?"
"No."
My eyes burned.
"Why didn't you tell me?"
He swallowed.
"Because I knew I had made a terrible mistake."
I shook my head.
"So you protected yourself."
His face crumpled.
"Yes."
That one word hurt more than any excuse could have.
I sat down.
For a long time, neither of us spoke.
Then I asked the question I feared most.
"Did they pay you?"
Christopher stared at me.
"No."
"Did Patricia?"
"No."
"Did you ever receive money from Westbridge?"
"No, Rebecca. I swear I didn't."
I believed that part.
But belief no longer felt safe.
"Then why is Patricia involved now?"
Christopher looked confused.
"I don't know."
At that moment, my phone vibrated.
A message from Matthew.
Mom, why is Aunt Patricia saying Dad kidnapped a baby?
I stared at the screen.
Another message arrived.
She's telling everyone you're trying to steal someone's child.
I felt a rush of anger.
Patricia had already started spreading her version of the story.
I called Matthew.
He answered immediately.
"Mom? What's happening?"
"Where are you?"
"At home with Daniel and Jacob. Aunt Patricia called us."
"Don't believe anything she says."
"Mom, she said Dad is about to be arrested."
Christopher looked up sharply.
I closed my eyes.
"Matthew, listen carefully. We are safe. There's a newborn involved, and the police are investigating."
"A newborn?"
"I'll explain when I get home."
"Are you okay?"
I tried to answer.
Instead, I started crying.
My oldest son didn't hesitate.
"Mom, we're coming."
"No, sweetheart—"
"We're coming."
He disconnected.
Christopher reached toward me.
I moved away.
"Please don't."
His hand fell.
I returned to Leah's room.
She was awake, staring at her phone.
Her face was white.
"Rebecca."
"What happened?"
She turned the screen toward me.
A message had arrived from an unknown number.
I know where your brother receives his treatment.
Do exactly what you're told.
Or your family will pay.
My stomach dropped.
"Leah, who's your brother?"
"His name is Noah."
"How old is he?"
"Seventeen."
She started shaking.
"He's at a cardiac rehabilitation center outside Baltimore."
I took her phone.
"Have you called him?"
"He isn't answering."
I immediately called the police officer assigned to the case.
Within minutes, officers were contacting the center to check on Noah.
Leah sat on the bed, rocking Daisy.
"Please let him be okay."
I wrapped my arms around her.
"He will be."
But I was terrified.
Because the people behind Daisy's birth weren't simply trying to hide the truth.
They were threatening an innocent teenager.
And then my phone rang again.
Patricia.
I stared at her name before answering.
"Rebecca," she said brightly. "I've been trying to reach you."
My voice went cold.
"What do you want?"
She sighed.
"Oh, honey. You really should have stayed out of this."
I felt the air leave my lungs.
"Patricia, what did you do?"
Her voice changed.
"Listen to me very carefully."
I heard papers rustling.
May you like
Then she spoke six words that turned my fear into rage.
"Your daughter was never supposed to live."
