Chapter 5: The Photograph
The woman stepped inside.
She was smaller than I expected.
Dark hair.
Gray coat.
A tiny crescent-shaped tattoo behind her left ear.
And on her right hand—
Luke's wedding ring.
My wedding ring.
The ring he had slipped onto my finger in front of two hundred people.
The ring I had watched him remove from his hand every night before bed when his fingers swelled.
The ring he had supposedly “lost” tonight.
I stared at it.
She smiled.
“Hello, Claire.””
The nurse manager moved between us.
“Identify yourself.””
The woman ignored her.
Her eyes remained on me.
“You look just like the photographs.””
My blood ran cold.
“What photographs?””
Luke was shaking.
“Rachel.””
She glanced at him.
“Hello, Luke.””
“You weren't supposed to come here.””
“I know.””
“Why are you wearing my ring?””
Rachel looked at the ring.
Then smiled.
“You gave it to me.””
“I did not.””
“You don't remember?””
Her voice was soft.
Almost affectionate.
Luke looked terrified.
Madison whispered, “That's her.””
Rachel finally looked at her.
“You should have stayed upstairs.””
Madison took a step back.
“You took Ava.””
“I didn't take anyone.””
“You were there.””
“I was there.””
“Then where is my daughter?””
Rachel's smile vanished.
“Safe.””
“Where?””
“That's not your concern.””
Madison lunged.
Security caught her before she reached Rachel.
“You're lying!””
Rachel looked at Luke.
“This is getting messy.””
Luke's voice cracked.
“You said nobody would get hurt.””
“I said nobody had to get hurt.””
I stared at them.
“You're both talking like this is a business deal.””
Rachel looked at me.
“It was.””
The room seemed to tilt.
I looked at Luke.
“What did you trade?””
He didn't answer.
Rachel did.
“Your husband needed money.””
Luke closed his eyes.
“He had debts.””
I felt something twist in my chest.
“How much?””
Rachel shrugged.
“Enough to lose everything.””
“You gambled?””
“No.””
“Drugs?””
“No.””
“Then what?””
Luke whispered, “A lawsuit.””
I remembered the months when Luke had seemed distracted.
The late-night phone calls.
The sudden financial meetings.
The excuses about business.
I had believed him.
I had even transferred money from my savings account once when he told me his company was facing a temporary cash-flow problem.
“Was that a lie too?””
Luke looked at me.
“Yes.””
The word was barely audible.
I closed my eyes.
A tear slipped down my cheek.
I didn't wipe it away.
Rachel watched me.
“You don't have to cry.””
I opened my eyes.
“You don't get to tell me what I have to do.””
Something flickered across her face.
Respect, maybe.
Or annoyance.
The nurse manager stepped forward.
“Where is the other infant?””
Rachel looked at her.
“Which one?””
“My daughter.””
Rachel smiled.
“You mean June?””
“Yes.””
“She isn't on this floor.””
“Where is she?””
Rachel didn't answer.
The police sirens could now be heard outside.
Rachel glanced toward the window.
“That's unfortunate.””
She turned toward the door.
Security blocked her.
“You're staying here.””
Rachel laughed.
“You really think I'm the person you should be stopping?””
I stared at her.
“What does that mean?””
She reached into her coat.
Every security officer tensed.
She slowly removed a photograph.
Then she held it toward me.
I couldn't understand what I was looking at.
A hospital hallway.
A bassinet.
A man.
Luke.
And beside him—
me.
Except I wasn't awake.
The photograph had been taken months earlier.
I was standing in our nursery, eight months pregnant, asleep in a chair.
Luke was standing over me.
Holding an envelope.
My stomach dropped.
“When was this taken?””
Rachel's expression softened.
“Three weeks ago.””
I looked at Luke.
“Who took it?””
He didn't answer.
Rachel did.
“I did.””
“Why?””
“To prove he was preparing.””
“Preparing for what?””
Rachel stepped closer.
“Giving away your baby.””
The room went silent.
I looked at the photograph again.
There was something on the table beside me.
A folder.
White.
With a red stamp.
I could barely read the words.
*PRIVATE ADOPTION AGREEMENT*
My breathing stopped.
Luke whispered, “Claire, listen to me.””
I looked up.
“You planned to give away my daughter?””
“No.””
“It's right there.””
“I never signed it.””
“But you prepared it.””
“I was forced.””
“By whom?””
Luke's eyes moved to Rachel.
She smiled.
“Not by me.””
The nurse manager took the photograph.
“Mrs. Mercer, don't look at this alone.””
I shook my head.
“No. I want to know.””
Rachel reached into her coat again.
This time she pulled out a second photograph.
Then a third.
Then a fourth.
Each one showed Luke doing something I had never seen.
Meeting strangers.
Handing over envelopes.
Standing outside a private clinic.
Talking to a woman carrying a folder.
And in every photograph, the same black SUV appeared in the background.
I looked at Rachel.
“Who owns that car?””
She didn't answer.
Luke did.
“My father.””
I stared at him.
“Your father?””
“My father died four years ago.””
“Yes.””
“Then how can he own the car?””
Luke looked toward the door.
Because suddenly someone was standing behind the police officers.
An elderly man.
Gray hair.
Dark coat.
Walking slowly with a cane.
Luke stopped breathing.
“Dad?””
The man smiled.
“Hello, son.””
The room erupted.
Two officers moved toward him.
Luke looked like he had seen a ghost.
“You're dead.””
The man laughed.
“That's what I wanted everyone to believe.””
I stared at the stranger.
Then at Luke.
Then at the photograph.
And finally at the baby in the bassinet.
The old man pointed toward her.
“That isn't the child we're looking for.””
My heart slammed against my ribs.
“What?””
He looked directly at me.
“Your daughter was never the target.””
I couldn't breathe.
“Then who was?””
He smiled.
“Eli.””
Luke shouted, “No!””
Every head in the room turned toward my stepson.
Eli was standing beside my bed.
Frozen.
May you like
The old man's eyes remained on him.
“That's the child they want.””
