Chapter 4: The Baby They Buried in Lies
For several seconds, neither Arthur nor Victoria spoke.
The old records room seemed to shrink around them. Dust drifted through the beam of Daniel's flashlight, and somewhere above their heads, a service elevator groaned to a stop.
Arthur still held the notebook.
The name Noah Ward stared up at him from the page.
Victoria's brother.
The boy whose life was now being used to force them into a trap.
And according to the message they had just received, the child Evelyn had stolen fifteen years earlier.
Arthur looked at Victoria.
“Tell me everything your mother told you about Noah's birth.””
Victoria shook her head.
“She never told me anything unusual. Noah is my brother. We grew up together. My mother raised us both.””
“Did she ever mention another child?””
“No.””
“An adoption? A hospital? A woman named Margaret Hayes?””
“No!”” Victoria's voice cracked.
“Why would she hide something like that from me?””
Arthur glanced at the notebook again.
“Because someone threatened her.””
Victoria's eyes filled with tears.
“My mother died believing people thought she was a thief. She worked for your family for eleven years, and when she left, she couldn't even get another decent job because Evelyn told everyone she'd stolen money.””
Arthur lowered his gaze.
“I didn't know.””
“You didn't ask.””
The accusation landed harder than he expected.
Victoria stepped closer, her hands shaking.
“You had enough money to hire a hundred investigators. You could have found my mother in a day. But you believed your sister because it was easier than questioning your own family.””
Arthur had no defense.
For fifteen years, he had mistaken loyalty for truth.
He had built an empire on examining every contract, every transaction, every risk.
Yet when the accusations involved his own family, he had simply looked away.
Daniel interrupted.
“Sir, we need to discuss the chapel.””
Arthur checked his watch.
“Thirty minutes?””
“Twenty-six now.””
Victoria snatched the notebook from Arthur's hand and turned to the final pages.
“There's something else.””
A folded document had been tucked inside the back cover. She carefully pulled it free.
It was a hospital record.
The top corner bore the name of St. Catherine's Medical Center, the private hospital where Margaret Hayes had received treatment during the final year of her life.
Below the hospital seal was a date.
October 11.
The night Margaret died.
Arthur read the page twice.
A newborn male had been admitted under emergency circumstances at 9:18 p.m. The mother's name had been left blank. The attending physician's signature was partially obscured by a dark stain.
But the line marked authorized guardian contained a name.
*Evelyn Hayes.*
Arthur's fingers tightened around the paper.
“Why would Evelyn be listed as guardian of a newborn on the night Mother died?””
Victoria pointed to the lower half of the document.
“Look at the time.””
The record showed that the child had been transferred to another department at 10:03 p.m.
Three minutes before Evelyn called Arthur to tell him their mother had collapsed.
Arthur felt the blood drain from his face.
“Daniel, find out whether St. Catherine's still has the original records.””
“I'll contact the hospital administrator.””
“No. Contact an independent attorney first. I don't want anyone connected to the Hayes family warned.””
Daniel nodded and stepped into the corridor.
Victoria stared at the document.
“Could Noah have been that baby?””
Arthur looked at her.
“I don't know.””
“But his name is in the notebook.””
“I know.””
“And someone just told us Evelyn stole a baby.””
Arthur folded the record carefully.
“Then we're going to find out why.””
He reached for his phone and called Evelyn.
She answered on the second ring.
“Arthur, please tell me you've calmed down.””
“Where were you at 9:18 p.m. on October eleventh, fifteen years ago?””
Silence.
Then Evelyn laughed nervously.
“Is this a joke?””
“Where were you?””
“At home.””
“Your name appears on a hospital record from that night.””
The silence returned.
Arthur could hear traffic in the background.
“What hospital?”” she asked.
“St. Catherine's.””
“Arthur, I don't know what you're talking about.””
“Then you won't mind answering a few questions.””
“I have nothing to say.””
“Who was the baby?””
The line went dead.
Arthur stared at his phone.
Victoria whispered, “She knows.””
He called again.
This time, the phone rang until voicemail answered.
Arthur slipped the device into his pocket.
“We're going to the chapel.””
Victoria immediately shook her head.
“You heard the man. He wants you alone.””
“Which is exactly why I'm not going alone.””
“He could hurt Noah.””
“He could hurt you, too. I'm not letting that happen.””
Victoria looked at him with exhausted disbelief.
“You can't promise that.””
“No,” Arthur admitted.
“But I can promise that whoever took your brother will have to get through me first.””
She studied his face.
For the first time since she had slapped the fork from his hand, she seemed unsure whether to trust him.
Then she held out her palm.
“Give me the key.””
Arthur hesitated.
“Why?””
“Because the man asked for it.””
“And if he takes it and leaves us with nothing?””
Victoria's expression hardened.
“Then at least we'll know what matters more to him: the evidence or the boy.””
Arthur looked at the small silver key.
He could almost hear his mother's voice telling him not to trust anyone who demanded silence in exchange for safety.
He placed the key in Victoria's hand.
“Keep it hidden.””
Daniel returned carrying a small black case.
“Two vehicles are ready. I've also arranged for a surveillance team to follow at a distance.””
Arthur nodded.
“Good. No weapons unless absolutely necessary. Our priority is Noah.””
Victoria slipped the key beneath her blouse.
As they headed toward the service elevator, Arthur's phone vibrated.
A message from an unknown number appeared.
It contained a photograph.
A teenage boy sat bound to a metal chair in a dark room. His face was bruised, his shirt torn at the collar.
Victoria recognized him immediately.
“Noah!””
A second message appeared beneath the photograph.
*Bring the key. Come alone. No police. No security.*
Then a third message arrived.
*And ask Arthur why he never knew his own son.*
Arthur stared at the screen.
Victoria looked up at him, her face drained of color.
“Your son?””
He could barely speak.
Because beneath the photograph, the sender had attached a scanned birth certificate.
The father's name was unmistakable.
May you like
*Arthur James Hayes.*
And the mother's name was Evelyn Hayes.
