Chapter 6 - The Secret Hidden in the Maternity Clinic
For several seconds, I could not understand the words.
One newborn.
The kitchen seemed to recede around me. The lights, the table, the half-finished cups of tea—everything blurred at the edges.
“No,” I said.
“I’m looking at the record now,” Lucas replied. “It lists one live birth. Female. No second delivery record.”
“But there were two babies.”
“I know.”
“I held them both.”
“I know.”
“You were there,” I added, though he had not been. “You helped me obtain their birth certificates.”
“I’m not questioning you, Claire.”
“Then what are you saying?”
“I’m saying the clinic record was altered or incomplete. And the release agreement appears to rely on that record.”
My hand began to tremble.
“Noah and Sophie have birth certificates.”
“Yes.”
“Both of them.”
“Yes.”
“Then the clinic record doesn’t change anything.”
“Legally, no. But it may explain why someone created that agreement.”
I looked toward the staircase. Upstairs, Noah and Sophie were sleeping in their rooms, unaware that the circumstances surrounding their birth had become a question in a lawyer’s office.
“They tried to make it look as though I had only one child,” I whispered.
“That’s what it appears.”
“Why?”
“I don’t know yet. Ethan is reviewing the archive. We’re going to contact the state records office and the clinic’s current administrator.”
“Is Ethan there?”
“Yes.”
“Put him on.”
There was a brief rustle.
Then Ethan answered.
“I’m here.”
His voice sounded different from when he had left. Tighter. More careful.
“Did you know the clinic registered only one baby?”
“No.”
“Did your mother?”
“I don’t know.”
“Your attorney was the notary on the agreement.”
“I know.”
“And my mother signed as a witness.”
“I know.”
“Then tell me what the agreement was for.”
“I can’t.”
The answer cut through my fear.
“You can’t, or you won’t?”
“I can’t. The agreement says you surrendered all claims related to the children, but there is no mention of a pregnancy in the documents my mother kept. The only reference is to ‘future family obligations.’”
“Future family obligations?”
“Yes.”
“Who drafted it?”
“My mother’s attorney.”
“Why would I sign something like that?”
“You didn’t.”
His certainty reached me through the phone.
“How do you know?”
“Because the signature is wrong.”
I closed my eyes.
“What do you mean?”
“I’ve seen your signature on our divorce papers, the apartment lease, and several letters. The one on the agreement was copied from another document.”
Lucas spoke in the background.
“We have a handwriting expert reviewing it.”
Ethan continued, “The document was designed to look legitimate, but it may never have been submitted anywhere. It could have been created as a private record to justify payments.”
“To whom?”
“I don’t know yet.”
The question hung between us.
Then Ethan said, “There’s one more thing.”
“What?”
“The maternity clinic’s director was not only a witness to the agreement. She was also a member of my mother’s charitable foundation.”
My stomach tightened.
“Your mother paid the clinic?”
“Through the foundation. Several donations over a period of years.”
“Do you know what kind of donations?”
“Equipment. Staffing grants. Legal assistance.”
“Legal assistance?”
“For families who couldn’t afford medical care.”
I heard the faint movement of papers.
Lucas said, “There’s a foundation ledger here. Some payments were directed to an account labeled ‘special case support.’”
“Whose case?”
“That’s what we’re trying to determine.”
I pressed my fingers to my forehead.
All the pieces seemed connected, but not yet in a shape I could understand. My mother. Ethan’s mother. The clinic. The missing letter. The money deposited into my account. A document I had never signed.
“What if the agreement was created after the twins were born?” I asked.
Ethan was silent.
“What if they needed proof that I had given up some claim? What if they were trying to protect themselves from something?”
“Claire,” Lucas said gently, “we have to be cautious.”
“I am being cautious. I’m asking questions.”
Ethan’s voice softened.
“You should not have to carry this tonight.”
“I’ve carried it for ten years.”
He had no answer.
I looked toward the staircase again.
“I want the truth,” I said. “Not just an explanation that makes you feel better.”
“I know.”
“And I want it found without frightening the children.”
“It will be,” he said immediately.
“You don’t get to promise that.”
“No,” he replied. “But I can help make it true.”
The line went quiet.
Then Lucas said, “We found the clinic’s former director.”
My breath caught.
“Where?”
“She retired six years ago. She lives in Wisconsin.”
“Can we speak to her?”
“We can try.”
Ethan said, “I’ll arrange a meeting.”
“No.”
He stopped.
“I don’t want you arranging anything,” I continued. “If she thinks you’re coming, she may decide what she wants to tell us.”
“Then I’ll stay out of it.”
“Lucas and I will go.”
“I’ll drive you.”
I almost refused automatically.
But the thought of traveling alone, carrying a decade of questions into a stranger’s home, made me hesitate.
“All right,” I said. “But you listen. You don’t take over.”
“I will.”
“And after that, we decide what happens next.”
“Together?”
The word was cautious.
I looked down at the letter on the table.
“About the children,” I said. “Not about us.”
“I understand.”
May you like
This time, I believed he did.
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