Chapter 10: The Son They Took Before I Could Hold Him
I stared at the photograph.
A newborn boy.
A tiny blue blanket.
A hospital identification bracelet.
And my father's handwriting on the back.
This is the child they took from you.
I read the words again.
Then I looked at Nia.
“What child?””
She didn't answer.
I turned toward Daniel.
“Who is this baby?””
Daniel placed both hands on the coffee table.
“Marcus, before I explain, you need to understand something. The hospital's original records were altered. The three babies were not simply switched. Someone deliberately changed their identification numbers.””
I felt my stomach tighten.
“Who?””
He looked at Nia.
She began crying.
I slammed the photograph onto the table.
“Stop looking at each other! I'm standing right here!””
Nia flinched.
Daniel finally spoke.
“Your firstborn son was delivered at St. Mary's ten years ago. He was alive.
He was healthy. But shortly after birth, his identification bracelet was changed.””
I shook my head.
“That doesn't make sense. Maya was my first child.””
Daniel lowered his eyes.
“Biologically, she isn't.””
I pointed toward the photograph.
“Then who is this?””
Daniel slid another document toward me.
It was an original delivery summary.
The mother's name was listed as Nia Carter.
The father's name was listed as Marcus Carter.
The baby's sex was male.
I looked at the date.
It was the same date as Maya's birth.
But the delivery time was 1:52 a.m.
“Where was this baby taken?””
Daniel hesitated.
“That's what your father spent years trying to discover.””
I turned toward Nia.
“You knew?””
She nodded.
“How long?””
“Since six years ago.””
I stared at her.
“You knew I had a biological son?””
“I suspected.””
“Suspected?””
Her voice cracked.
“Your father told me there had been another baby. He said the hospital had made a terrible mistake, but he didn't know where the child was.””
I walked away from the table.
My hands were shaking.
For ten years, I had believed I had two children.
Now I was being told that the little girl I had raised as my biological daughter was actually Claire and Daniel's child, the boy I had raised as my son was biologically connected to another family, and somewhere there was a third child who might be mine.
And nobody had thought I deserved to know.
“Why did my father sign that agreement?””
Nia wiped her cheeks.
“Because he was trying to protect the children.””
“From what?””
Daniel answered.
“From a woman named Dr. Helen Morris.””
The name meant nothing to me.
“Who is she?””
“She was the senior maternity administrator at St. Mary's. She supervised the newborn identification process.””
“And?””
Daniel opened another folder.
“Rebecca discovered that Dr. Morris had been changing hospital records. She was preparing to report her.””
I looked at the photograph of the baby.
“Why?””
“Because the hospital had received complaints from several families. Some newborn records had been altered. Dr. Morris was involved in an illegal adoption arrangement.””
I felt sick.
“Are you saying babies were deliberately given to other families?””
Daniel nodded.
“That's what the investigation eventually uncovered.””
I turned toward Nia.
“Was Rebecca involved?””
“She discovered it,” Nia whispered.
“She tried to stop it.””
“And my father?””
“He helped her.””
I looked at the agreement.
The document seemed to suggest that my father had authorized something terrible.
“Why would he agree to transfer a baby to our family?””
Nia shook her head.
“He didn't want the child to disappear into the system. He believed he could protect him.””
“Then why didn't he tell me?””
“Because he was afraid.””
“Of what?””
She looked directly at me.
“Because Dr. Morris threatened to destroy our family if he spoke.””
Daniel placed a second photograph on the table.
This one showed a younger version of my father standing outside the hospital with Rebecca.
A third person stood beside them.
Dr. Helen Morris.
I looked at her face.
Then I noticed something familiar.
She was wearing a silver necklace with a small oval pendant.
The same necklace I had seen in the hospital maternity ward that morning.
I picked up the photograph.
“That's her.””
Daniel nodded.
“She still works at St. Mary's.””
My blood ran cold.
“You're telling me the woman who handled our newborn's paperwork today was involved ten years ago?””
Daniel nodded again.
“She's now the director of maternity administration.””
I looked toward Nia.
“Did you know?””
She shook her head.
“No.””
I wanted to believe her.
But I didn't know how anymore.
My phone rang.
The caller ID showed an unfamiliar number.
I answered.
“Hello?””
A woman's voice spoke calmly.
“Mr. Carter, this is Dr. Helen Morris.””
I stared at Daniel.
“Yes?””
“I understand you've been reviewing some historical hospital records.””
“That's one way to put it.””
She ignored my tone.
“I would appreciate an opportunity to discuss the matter privately.””
“Why?””
“Because certain documents have been misinterpreted.””
I looked at the photograph.
“Did you change the newborn records ten years ago?””
Silence.
Then she answered.
“Mr. Carter, I think you should be careful about making accusations.””
I tightened my grip on the phone.
“Where is my biological son?””
Her voice became colder.
“Your son is safe.””
My heart stopped.
“What?””
“I said he's safe.””
I looked at Nia.
She had heard every word.
“Where is he?””
Dr. Morris sighed.
“Come to my office tomorrow morning. Bring the original documents. And come alone.””
The call ended.
I stared at the phone.
Daniel slowly closed the folder.
“She knows we found the photograph.””
I looked at him.
“Then she knows something about my son.””
Nia stood.
“Marcus, don't go.””
I turned toward her.
“You've spent ten years telling me what I should and shouldn't know.””
She began crying.
“I was trying to protect you.””
I picked up the photograph.
“Then help me find my son.””
For the first time, she didn't argue.
She simply nodded.
But as I walked upstairs to check on Maya and Ethan, my phone vibrated again.
An anonymous message appeared.
*Don't trust Dr. Morris. Your son isn't the only child she moved. Check the name on your newborn's original wristband.*
I stopped walking.
I remembered the hospital bracelet.
The one attached to my newborn son's tiny wrist.
I opened the photograph I had taken earlier that morning.
And zoomed in.
The name printed on the bracelet wasn't the name we had chosen.
It wasn't Carter.
It wasn't Reed.
May you like
It was a name I had never seen before.
*NOAH CARTER.*
