Chapter 14: The Daughter Who Came Home
Nobody moved.
The silver key rested in my palm.
The wrong baby had gone home.
I looked at Patricia.
"You're telling me my mother believed I wasn't her daughter?""
Patricia shook her head.
"No. She knew you were her daughter. She just didn't know which one of you had been sent home with which family.""
Madeline sat down hard in the nearest chair.
"Then how did she know?""
"Because she found the original hospital records years later.""
Richard stepped forward.
"Patricia, you're making claims you can't support.""
She turned on him.
"You've been lying for eighteen years. You don't get to tell me what I can say.""
She looked at me.
"Eleanor told me she had been given a baby who wasn't the one she remembered holding after delivery. She suspected the records had been altered.""
I looked at the birth certificates.
"Why didn't she go to the police?""
"She tried. But the hospital had already lost the original records. Helen Brooks disappeared. And Thomas was dead.""
I swallowed.
"Did she ever find out which baby was which?""
Patricia nodded.
"She thought she had.""
My heart began pounding.
"Which one?""
"She believed Madeline was her biological daughter by Thomas. She believed you were her biological daughter by Edward.""
I closed my eyes.
"Then why did you say the wrong baby went home?""
"Because Eleanor later discovered that the hospital had switched the names on the records. The child she thought was Nia might have been the child registered as Madeline.""
Madeline stood.
"You're saying we might not be who we think we are?""
Patricia nodded.
"That's why Eleanor left the key.""
I looked at the number engraved on it.
214.
The safety deposit box.
But we had already opened that box.
It had contained the letter, the bracelet box, and the first memory card.
I turned toward Patricia.
"Why would the key be for the same box?""
She shook her head.
"Because there are two boxes numbered 214.""
Richard's expression changed.
"That's impossible.""
Patricia looked at him.
"Not at St. Mary's. The hospital used the same number in two separate storage wings.""
Mr. Bennett immediately checked his phone.
"One for patient property. One for archived maternity records.""
I looked at him.
"Can we get in?""
"Not without authorization.""
Richard laughed.
"Those records were destroyed years ago.""
Patricia reached into her handbag again.
She removed a folded paper.
"Eleanor gave me this too.""
It was a hospital storage receipt.
The date was eighteen years earlier.
The locker number was 214.
And the name on the receipt was Helen Brooks.
I looked at Richard.
"How did my mother get this?""
"She must have found it in the hospital archives," he said.
"Then why did she give it to you?""
Patricia's eyes filled.
"Because she knew someone was watching her.""
I looked at the receipt again.
There was a handwritten note at the bottom.
If I cannot return, give this to Nia.
My mother had expected something to happen to her.
She had known she was in danger.
And Patricia had kept the evidence for eighteen years.
We reached St. Mary's just before closing time.
Mr. Bennett arranged for an independent solicitor to meet us there. He refused to let Richard handle anything.
Richard insisted on coming.
I didn't want him near the records.
But he reminded us that he was still the attorney named on the original estate documents.
"Let him come," Mr. Bennett said quietly.
"If he's involved, he'll want to see what we find.""
We entered the old records wing.
The corridors smelled of disinfectant and damp paper.
A hospital administrator met us beside a locked storage room.
"These archives haven't been accessed in years," she explained.
"Most of the files were transferred to digital storage.""
"Then why are these lockers still here?"" I asked.
She looked uncomfortable.
"Some were never cleared.""
We found locker 214 at the end of the corridor.
Patricia inserted the key.
It turned.
Inside was a brown envelope, a small cassette recorder, and a photograph.
The photograph showed two newborn babies in hospital bassinets.
One had a white ribbon around her wrist.
The other had a yellow ribbon.
On the back were two names.
*Nia. Madeline.*
But beneath them, someone had written:
Do not trust the labels.
I opened the envelope.
Inside was a letter from Helen Brooks.
The first sentence made my hands tremble.
Mrs. Whitmore, I am writing this because I can no longer live with what I did.
I read aloud.
"On the night of the birth, I was instructed to alter the identity bracelets on both infants. I was told the change had been approved by the parents. It had not.""
Madeline moved closer.
"Who instructed her?""
I continued.
Edward Carter paid me to ensure that the child believed to be his was registered under Thomas Whitmore's name. He said it was necessary to protect the family from a scandal. I later discovered that the arrangement was not what he had described.
My stomach tightened.
The letter continued.
One child was Thomas's biological daughter. The other was Edward's. But the child sent home with Eleanor was not the child she had delivered.
I looked up.
Madeline was crying silently.
"Keep reading," she whispered.
I did.
I was instructed to destroy the original records. I kept one copy because I feared the consequences. I also kept the hospital's blood samples, which were scheduled for disposal. They are stored in the laboratory archive under the mother's name.
The final paragraph was underlined.
If you are reading this, Eleanor, one of your daughters may have been raised by the wrong father. But the greater danger is that Edward wanted both girls separated before they could discover what he had done.
I lowered the letter.
"Where are the blood samples?""
The administrator looked troubled.
"That laboratory was closed years ago.""
"Can we access the archive?""
"I'll need authorization.""
Mr. Bennett placed the solicitor's letter on the counter.
"Then please obtain it.""
While the administrator made the call, Richard walked toward the far end of the corridor.
I noticed immediately.
"Where are you going?""
"To make a phone call.""
"Stay here.""
He turned.
"You're not my employer, Nia.""
"No. But you're not leaving with any more of my family's evidence.""
His expression hardened.
Then his phone rang.
He looked at the screen and answered.
"Yes?""
He listened.
His face changed.
"What do you mean, she's there?""
He turned away.
I moved closer.
"Who is?""
Richard ended the call.
Then he looked at Patricia.
"Edward.""
Patricia went pale.
"He's here?""
Richard nodded.
"He's at the hospital.""
I turned toward the entrance.
A figure stood at the far end of the corridor.
Edward.
He was wearing the same gray coat from the photograph.
His eyes were fixed on me.
"I told you not to come here," he said.
I stepped forward.
"You told me a lot of things.""
He looked at the letter in my hand.
"Give it to me.""
"No.""
His expression hardened.
"You don't understand what you're holding.""
"I understand that you paid a nurse to switch two babies.""
Edward's face went pale.
Madeline moved beside me.
"Which one of us is your daughter?""
Edward looked at her.
Then at me.
He took a slow breath.
"Neither of you.""
The words struck harder than a slap.
I stared at him.
"What?""
He looked toward Richard.
"Tell them.""
Richard didn't move.
Edward's voice trembled.
"Thomas was not Madeline's father. And I was not Nia's.""
I felt the corridor tilt.
"Then whose daughters are we?""
Edward looked directly at me.
"Your mother had another secret, Nia.""
May you like
He swallowed.
"She had a third man in her life.""
