Chapter 6
I called Adrian back six times.
He didn't answer.
I sent one message.
What do you mean Diane promised someone our baby?
No reply.
Then I sent another.
Who?
Still nothing.
I stared at my phone until Dad gently took my hand.
"Serena, we need to tell Angela."
I nodded.
My whole body was shaking.
I felt as though someone had reached inside my chest and grabbed my heart.
My daughter.
The little girl whose name I'd written in the back of my pregnancy journal.
The baby whose nursery I'd painted soft lavender.
The child I'd dreamed about holding for months.
Someone had promised her to another person.
I couldn't understand it.
I didn't want to understand it.
Angela arrived that evening.
I repeated Adrian's exact words.
She listened carefully.
Then asked whether I'd recorded the call.
I shook my head.
"No."
"That's okay. Keep the call history and messages."
I nodded.
Angela continued.
"We need to avoid assuming what Adrian meant until we verify it."
I swallowed.
"But he said it."
"Yes. And it's important."
I looked toward Dad.
He was standing near the window.
His hands were clenched.
For the first time, I saw how hard he was struggling to remain calm.
Angela leaned forward.
"Serena, has Diane ever mentioned a specific person who wanted to raise your child?"
I thought for a moment.
Then remembered something.
A dinner at Diane's house three months earlier.
Her friend Patricia had been there.
Patricia was a wealthy widow in her sixties.
She owned several properties and frequently traveled with Diane.
During dinner, she kept touching my stomach.
Asking questions about the baby's sex.
The due date.
My plans after delivery.
At one point, she said something that made me uncomfortable.
"Some women are blessed with children they don't know how to appreciate."
I remembered laughing nervously.
Diane smiled.
Then replied, "Sometimes the right person has to step in."
I'd assumed they were talking generally.
Now I wasn't so sure.
I told Angela.
Her expression sharpened.
"Do you know Patricia's last name?"
"Holloway."
Dad turned.
"Patricia Holloway?"
I looked at him.
"You know her?"
His face tightened.
"She's been involved in several charitable foundations."
I frowned.
"Is that bad?"
"Not necessarily."
He took a breath.
"But she has business connections with Diane."
Angela made a note.
I stared at her.
"Could she be the person?"
Angela answered carefully.
"We need evidence."
I nodded.
But the thought wouldn't leave me.
That night, I dreamed someone was carrying my daughter away.
I ran after them.
Screamed.
Begged.
But nobody listened.
When I woke, I was crying.
A nurse came immediately.
She checked on me.
Helped me breathe slowly.
Then asked whether I wanted someone to sit with me.
I nodded.
She stayed until Dad returned.
The next morning, Angela called with an update.
Her investigator had located communications between Leonard Price and Patricia Holloway.
They concerned a proposed private caregiving arrangement.
I stared at the phone.
"What kind of arrangement?"
Angela spoke carefully.
"The documents appear to discuss the possibility of Patricia becoming involved in your child's care if you were considered unable to parent."
My stomach dropped.
"Unable?"
"Yes."
I looked toward the false medical report.
The words seemed to glow in my memory.
MATERNAL CAPACITY CONCERNS.
I understood.
They were trying to manufacture a reason.
Not because they genuinely believed I couldn't care for my daughter.
Because someone wanted control.
Angela continued.
"There's no evidence that a valid adoption or custody order exists. These private proposals don't give Patricia parental rights."
I exhaled shakily.
"Thank God."
But Angela wasn't finished.
"Serena, there's also a financial component."
I felt cold.
"What?"
"Patricia's foundation discussed a substantial payment connected to a proposed family-support arrangement."
Dad stepped closer.
"How substantial?"
Angela hesitated.
"One million dollars."
The room went silent.
I stared.
One million.
For a moment, I couldn't process the number.
Then I whispered, "They were selling my baby?"
Angela answered carefully.
"We cannot conclude that from the documents alone. But the payment and proposed caregiving arrangement raise serious concerns."
I began crying.
Hard.
Because even if the legal meaning wasn't clear yet, the intention terrified me.
My daughter wasn't an asset.
She wasn't a solution to Diane's financial ambitions.
She was a person.
A little girl.
My little girl.
I looked at Dad.
He was crying too.
I had rarely seen him cry.
Not even at Mom's funeral.
Now he sat beside me and held my hand as though he were afraid I'd disappear.
"I'm going to protect you both," he whispered.
I looked at him.
"I know."
But I was afraid.
Because powerful people were involved.
People with money.
Lawyers.
Connections.
And they had already shown they were willing to lie.
Over the following days, Angela coordinated with hospital investigators and the appropriate authorities.
The hospital restricted unauthorized access to my records.
The false entries were identified for review.
My delivery plan was updated to reflect my choices.
I specified who could visit.
Who could receive information.
And who could be present when my daughter was born.
Adrian and Diane were not on the list.
Neither was Patricia.
It was painful.
Especially excluding Adrian.
He was my husband.
My daughter's father.
Part of me still remembered the man who kissed my forehead every morning.
The man who cried when we saw our baby's heartbeat for the first time.
But I couldn't ignore what he'd done.
Love without safety wasn't enough.
One afternoon, Dr. Ellis sat beside me.
"Serena, how are you feeling about delivery?"
I swallowed.
"Scared."
She nodded.
"That's understandable."
I looked at her.
"What if someone tries to take my baby?"
Her expression softened.
"We have documented your concerns and your visitor preferences. Our team will follow hospital procedures and applicable law."
I nodded.
"But what if they lie?"
She took my hand.
"Then we respond based on verified facts, not unsupported accusations."
Tears filled my eyes.
I had spent months being told I was unstable for asking questions.
Now my doctor was telling me I deserved answers.
I exhaled.
"Thank you."
That evening, Angela called again.
Her voice was serious.
"Serena, Adrian has agreed to provide a statement through his attorney."
My heart tightened.
"What did he say?"
She paused.
"He claims Diane pressured him into participating."
I closed my eyes.
Of course.
Diane.
Always Diane.
I asked quietly, "Does he admit changing my records?"
Angela answered, "He has acknowledged helping submit some of the disputed information. The extent of his responsibility is still being investigated."
I nodded.
Then she added something unexpected.
"He also says Patricia was promised something that Diane had no legal right to promise."
My stomach tightened.
"What?"
Angela took a breath.
"Not just access to your baby."
I stared at Dad.
He looked concerned.
"What else?"
Angela continued.
"Adrian says Diane believed she could gain control over the trust your father planned to create for your daughter."
I stopped breathing.
My father's gift.
My baby's future.
And suddenly, the entire plan became even uglier.
They weren't only trying to control who raised my daughter.
They were trying to control the money meant to protect her.
I looked at Dad.
Tears streamed down my face.
"Daddy, they wanted everything."
He squeezed my hand.
Then he spoke quietly.
May you like
"But they're not getting her."
And for the first time, I believed we might actually win.
