Chapter 2
I had never been afraid of my husband's hands before.
Not when he wrapped them around my waist for photographs.
Not when he slipped expensive jewelry around my neck.
Not even when he gripped my wrist too tightly during arguments and told me I was embarrassing him.
But that night, when Julian reached inside his jacket while staring at Toby, I felt real fear.
"Don't come closer."
My voice shook.
Julian stopped.
Behind him, the two security guards exchanged uneasy glances.
"Sophia, you're causing a scene."
I barely heard him.
My eyes remained fixed on the leather case in his hand.
"What is that?"
He looked down.
Then he gave a short laugh.
"Medication."
"For what?"
"You're being hysterical."
That familiar word struck me like a slap.
Hysterical.
He used it whenever I remembered our son.
Whenever I asked about the hospital.
Whenever I questioned something he didn't want to explain.
I held Toby closer.
"Open it."
Julian's expression hardened.
"Sophia."
"Open the case."
One guard shifted beside him.
Julian noticed.
His smile returned, but it looked forced.
"Very well."
He opened the case.
Inside was a small silver syringe, sealed in plastic, beside two medication vials.
My stomach turned.
"What is that?"
"An emergency sedative."
I stared at him.
"Why would you bring a sedative to our wedding?"
He sighed.
"Your physician suggested precautions in case you suffered another episode."
Another episode.
I felt my face burn.
For years, Julian had told people I was emotionally fragile.
He said losing our son had damaged me.
He insisted I needed constant supervision.
Now he was standing outside our celebration with a syringe in his jacket.
And my child was trembling against me.
"Put it away."
Julian closed the case.
"Then come inside."
"No."
His eyes narrowed.
"Sophia, don't make this difficult."
Toby's fingers tightened around my dress.
I felt his heartbeat against my stomach.
"Who is this boy?" I asked.
Julian glanced at him.
"Some street child."
"Then why did you look frightened when you saw him?"
"I'm concerned about you."
"Answer me."
Julian stepped forward.
One of the guards moved with him.
I turned sharply.
"Stay back!"
The guard stopped.
Julian's voice became cold.
"You're embarrassing yourself."
I held up the photograph again.
"This was taken the day our son was born."
He looked at it.
For the first time, his carefully controlled expression cracked.
"Where did you get that?"
"Toby had it."
Julian stared at the boy.
Then he looked toward the dark alley.
"Who gave it to you?"
Toby buried his face in my dress.
I placed my palm over his head.
"Don't speak to him."
Julian's nostrils flared.
"Sophia, give me the photograph."
"No."
"That picture belongs to us."
"Then why did you tell me it didn't exist?"
He opened his mouth.
Nothing came out.
For eight years, Julian always had an answer.
He could explain missing hospital records.
He could explain why I wasn't allowed to visit the crematorium.
He could explain why our son's birth certificate had never reached me.
Now he couldn't explain a photograph.
I felt something shift inside me.
"Is he alive?"
Julian stared.
"What?"
"Our son."
I swallowed.
"Did you lie to me?"
His face tightened.
"Enough."
"Did you?"
He stepped closer.
"Security, take that child away."
Toby screamed.
"No!"
He clung to my waist.
I wrapped both arms around him.
"Nobody touches him!"
One guard hesitated.
The other glanced at Julian.
"Sir, perhaps we should wait."
Julian turned on him.
"I pay you to follow instructions."
I looked straight at the guard.
"My name is Sophia Sterling. I am telling you not to lay a hand on this child."
The guard stepped backward.
For the first time in my marriage, I realized Julian's money couldn't automatically make everyone obey him.
Then a voice came from the alley.
"Leave the boy alone, Julian."
Every person turned.
An elderly woman sat in a wheelchair beneath a dim security light.
A gray blanket covered her legs.
Her silver hair was tied behind her head.
She looked thin and exhausted.
But her eyes burned with determination.
Toby lifted his head.
"Martha!"
The woman smiled at him.
"It's all right, sweetheart."
Julian went completely still.
I watched his face.
He looked more terrified of the woman than he had of the photograph.
"You," he whispered.
Martha rolled closer.
"Yes, Julian. Me."
"You were supposed to be in California."
"I was."
His voice became sharp.
"Who brought you here?"
"A person who finally decided to do the right thing."
I looked between them.
"Who are you?"
Martha turned toward me.
"My name is Martha Bell."
She took a breath.
"I was a neonatal nurse at St. Catherine's Medical Center when you gave birth."
My knees weakened.
I remembered St. Catherine's.
The white walls.
The machines.
The last moment I held my son.
Martha looked at Toby.
"I helped care for your baby."
I could hardly speak.
"Then you know what happened?"
Tears filled her eyes.
"I know what I was told to do."
Julian lunged toward her wheelchair.
"Not another word!"
The taller security guard stepped between them.
"Sir, calm down."
Martha didn't move.
She looked directly at me.
"Sophia, your son did not die that night."
My entire body went numb.
Toby looked up at me.
I couldn't breathe.
Julian shouted, "She's lying!"
Martha raised her voice.
"Your husband ordered the hospital administrator to falsify the discharge records."
I stared at Julian.
"No."
"He told us you had signed papers surrendering the child."
I shook my head.
"I never signed anything."
"I know."
Martha's voice broke.
"I learned that later."
Julian pointed at her.
"That woman was dismissed for misconduct. She is not credible."
Martha reached beneath her blanket.
Julian stepped forward again.
She pulled out a thick brown envelope.
"I kept copies."
My heart pounded.
"Copies of what?"
"Your son's original hospital records."
I felt as though the ground had disappeared beneath me.
Martha continued.
"And the document used to transfer him into private custody."
Julian laughed bitterly.
"Those papers are worthless."
Martha looked at him.
"Then why have you spent eight years trying to find them?"
Nobody spoke.
Behind us, the restaurant doors opened.
Guests had begun gathering.
Photographers raised their cameras.
Julian looked around.
His face changed.
He straightened his jacket.
Then he leaned close enough for only me to hear.
"Sophia, come inside now, or you will regret what happens next."
I looked down at Toby.
His small hands were still gripping my dress.
For eight years, I'd believed my baby was buried in an urn.
Now a little boy with his eyes and his birthmark was holding me as though I were the only safe place left in the world.
I looked back at Julian.
"No."
His jaw tightened.
I raised my voice.
"Someone call the police."
Julian stared at me.
Then Martha said something that made his face turn white.
"Tell them to send someone from the child protection unit."
I looked at her.
"Why?"
May you like
She swallowed.
"Because Toby isn't the only child Julian tried to make disappear."
