Chapter 7: The Daughter Richard Stole
“Say that again.””
Damien stood in the middle of the storage unit, gripping his phone so tightly his knuckles had turned white.
On the other end, Dr. Hannah Price was crying.
“Mrs. Bennett delivered two girls that night,” she repeated.
“Identical twins. I was there when the second baby was born.””
Damien looked down at Elena's letter.
He took the other baby.
“Where is she?”” he demanded.
“I don't know.””
“Don't tell me you don't know. You helped deliver her. You watched my father take her. Where is my daughter?””
“I was twenty-six years old, Mr. Cross. I was a junior nurse working a night shift.
Your father arrived with two private security officers and a lawyer. He said there had been a custody agreement.””
“An agreement bearing my signature?””
Hannah fell silent.
Damien's stomach tightened.
“You knew about the forged document.””
“I suspected it was forged. But your father had connections everywhere. He threatened to have me prosecuted for falsifying medical records if I spoke.””
“And you stayed silent for seven years?””
The question came out harsher than he intended.
Hannah sobbed.
“I had a little girl of my own. Your father told me he could make sure I never saw her again. I was terrified.””
Damien closed his eyes.
He understood fear. He understood what power could do when wielded by someone who believed himself untouchable.
But understanding did not make the truth easier to swallow.
“What happened to the second baby?””
“Richard said he was taking her to a family who could provide a better life. Elena was unconscious after the delivery. When she woke up, she was told the second baby hadn't survived.””
Damien felt physically sick.
“He told her the baby was dead?””
“Yes.””
“And she believed him?””
“For years. Then she discovered inconsistencies in the hospital records. That's when she started asking questions.””
Damien remembered Elena's letter.
The flash drive contains the proof.
His father hadn't simply separated a mother from her child.
He had made Elena mourn a living daughter.
“Dr. Price, I need every document you have. Every note, every record, every name. Can you meet me?””
A long silence followed.
“There's something else,” Hannah whispered.
“The woman who adopted the baby wasn't a stranger.””
Damien's heart hammered.
“Who was she?””
“Victoria Sterling's mother.””
For several seconds, the world seemed to stop.
Victoria's mother, Margaret Sterling, had appeared in society magazines for decades. She was a philanthropist, a hospital benefactor, and the chairwoman of a foundation supporting premature infants.
She had publicly adopted a little girl after supposedly losing her only pregnancy.
Damien remembered the photographs.
A smiling Margaret holding a tiny baby wrapped in a white blanket.
A silver bracelet around the baby's wrist.
A bracelet engraved with a name.
*Grace.*
“Tell me where to find you,” Damien said.
Hannah gave him an address in Westchester and begged him not to contact anyone else.
Before ending the call, she added, “Mr. Cross, if you want to find your daughter, don't confront the Sterlings until you know what happened to the child's birth records.””
“Why?””
“Because Margaret didn't adopt a baby through the courts.””
Damien went still.
“What did she do?””
“She paid for a birth certificate that listed her as the biological mother.””
The call ended.
Damien stood motionless among Elena's belongings.
Seven years of lies had suddenly become something far more sinister than a family feud.
His father had forged custody papers. A nurse had been threatened into silence. A newborn had been removed from her mother and given to a wealthy family under false documentation.
And Victoria, the woman he had almost married, might have grown up with his stolen daughter under the same roof.
His phone vibrated.
Marcus had sent a message.
*The flash drive is encrypted. Our forensic team needs a password.*
Damien looked at Elena's handwriting.
She had left him the key to a truth she had been too frightened to reveal.
He searched the letter for another clue.
At the bottom, nearly hidden beneath a fold, Elena had written a single word.
*Bluebird.*
Damien typed it into a message to Marcus.
*Try BLUEBIRD.*
A moment later, Marcus called.
“Sir, it worked.””
Damien closed his eyes.
“What did you find?””
“Audio files. Scanned documents. Photographs. And a video.””
“Play the video.””
“It's already running.””
A few seconds passed.
Then Marcus's voice changed.
“Sir, you need to see this yourself.””
Twenty minutes later, Damien sat in the back of his SUV while Marcus held a tablet between them.
The video showed a hospital room seven years earlier.
Elena lay in bed, pale and exhausted, holding a tiny baby against her chest. Another infant slept in a clear bassinet beside her.
Damien recognized Elena immediately.
She was thinner than he remembered, but her eyes still held the same warmth that had once made him feel invincible.
A man entered the room.
Richard Cross.
Even on the grainy recording, his expression was unmistakable: cold, composed, utterly certain that everyone around him existed to obey.
“You need to sign the papers,” Richard said.
Elena shook her head.
“No. You told me I could keep both girls.””
“I told you that if you cooperated, you could keep one.””
“They're sisters!””
“And one of them will grow up in a stable household with every opportunity. The other will grow up with a mother who has no money, no medical license, and no future.””
Elena began to cry.
“Damien would never allow this.””
Richard leaned over the bed.
“Damien doesn't know these children exist. And if you ever tell him, I will make certain he loses everything.””
“You can't do this.””
“I already have.””
He turned toward the bassinet and lifted the second baby.
Elena screamed.
“Please! Don't take her!””
Richard ignored her.
The video ended abruptly.
Damien stared at the black screen.
He had watched his father destroy a woman's life in less than two minutes.
He had watched Elena beg for her own child.
And he had spent seven years mourning a love he believed had betrayed him.
Marcus lowered the tablet.
“Sir?””
Damien's voice was barely audible.
“Find Grace Sterling.””
“Victoria's sister?””
“Yes.””
Marcus hesitated.
“Grace is twenty-six. She's the executive director of the Sterling Children's Foundation. She rarely appears in public.””
Damien looked toward the window.
Twenty-six.
The age was wrong.
Grace was supposed to be seven.
Unless the foundation's public biography was a lie too.
“Marcus,” he said slowly, “how old is Victoria?””
“Thirty-one.””
“And Grace?””
“Twenty-six.””
Damien felt a chill creep down his spine.
If Grace was his stolen daughter, she should have been seven years old, not twenty-six.
Unless the name belonged to someone else.
He grabbed the tablet again and replayed the final seconds of the video.
A hospital bracelet was visible on the baby's wrist.
The name was partially obscured, but the final letters were clear.
*...ACE CROSS.*
Not Grace Sterling.
Grace Cross.
Damien stared at the screen.
Then his phone rang.
An unfamiliar woman spoke before he could say hello.
“Mr. Cross, my name is Grace Sterling. I believe you're looking for me.””
His heart pounded.
“Who told you?””
“No one. I found something in my mother's safe.””
“What?””
“A photograph of a woman named Elena Bennett holding two newborn babies.””
Damien stopped breathing.
May you like
Grace continued, her voice shaking.
“And beneath the photograph was a note that said, 'If Damien Cross ever discovers the truth, tell him which daughter you really are.''”
