Chapter 3 - THE WOMAN IN THE FAMILY PORTRAIT
“Margaret couldn't have done this,” Gabriel said.
But even as he spoke, he remembered something he'd spent twenty-seven years trying to forget.
The morning his mother went into the hospital, Margaret had arrived carrying flowers.
She wasn't Gabriel's stepmother then.
She was his mother's closest friend.
Two years later, she married his father.
And after the wedding, every photograph of Elena disappeared from the mansion except the portrait Gabriel kept in his private study.
Rachel watched him carefully.
“Mr. Moretti?”
Gabriel folded the hospital label and placed it back inside the locket.
“My father's second wife may have helped steal my sister.”
“Where is she now?”
“In Palm Beach.”
Margaret Moretti was sixty-eight, elegant, respected, and chairman of the Moretti Family Foundation.
She sent Christmas gifts to Emma every year.
She called Rachel a hardworking young woman.
And she'd sat at Gabriel's dinner table countless times, smiling beside Vanessa.
A terrible possibility began taking shape.
Gabriel turned toward Rachel.
“Has Margaret ever asked about Emma?”
Rachel nodded.
“Last spring. She wanted to know her birthday.”
“Anything else?”
“She asked whether Emma had any birthmarks.”
Gabriel went still.
“What did you tell her?”
“That she has a little brown mark on her left shoulder.”
Rachel swallowed.
“Margaret said it reminded her of someone.”
The conversation ended when Marco called.
“Sir, we've reached St. Mary's. Vanessa was stopped outside the maternity records office.”
“Did she take anything?”
“Nothing from the office. But she was carrying an authorization letter signed by Catherine Whitmore.”
Gabriel frowned.
“An authorization for what?”
“Destruction of archived medical files marked for disposal.”
“Preserve everything. Bring Vanessa back without a confrontation.”
“There's more, sir.”
Gabriel waited.
“Catherine Whitmore was admitted to St. Mary's earlier this afternoon.”
“For what?”
“Chest pain. She's in cardiac observation.”
Gabriel looked toward the sleeping child.
Vanessa hadn't driven to the hospital to visit her mother.
At least not only to visit her.
She was trying to erase evidence.
“Rachel,” Gabriel said, “I need to go there.”
Rachel immediately stood.
“I'm coming.”
“No. Emma needs somewhere safe.”
“My daughter needs answers.”
Gabriel couldn't deny that.
For nearly three years, Rachel had worked inside his home.
She had cleaned his rooms, prepared his mother's birthday flowers, and never once asked him for special treatment.
Now her entire life had been turned upside down by secrets connected to his family.
“Emma can stay with Mrs. Alvarez,” he said.
The mansion's elderly cook had watched Emma after preschool many times.
Rachel hesitated.
Emma raised her head.
“Can I have cookies?”
Rachel let out a broken little laugh.
“Yes, sweetheart.”
Gabriel sent two trusted security officers to remain with Mrs. Alvarez.
Then he and Rachel left for Brooklyn.
During the drive, Rachel stared through the window.
“My husband died when Emma was eight months old,” she said quietly.
Gabriel looked over.
“I remember.”
“Daniel used to rock her to sleep every night. He'd sing the same ridiculous song about a frog driving a bus.”
She smiled through her tears.
“He wasn't much of a singer.”
Gabriel said nothing.
“After his accident, Emma cried for him for weeks. I told her Daddy had gone to heaven.”
Rachel pressed her fingers together.
“And now you're telling me she wasn't even his daughter.”
“Daniel loved her.”
“But he died believing she was ours.”
Gabriel's voice softened.
“Rachel, nobody can take those four years away from you.”
She looked at him.
“Someone already took the first four years of my other daughter's life.”
At St. Mary's, the atmosphere had changed.
Hospital administrators waited in a private conference room with legal counsel.
Eleanor Price sat near the window.
She was a small woman in her early sixties, with gray hair and tired eyes.
Beside her rested an old cardboard box.
Rachel stopped in the doorway.
“You're the nurse?”
Eleanor stood.
“Yes.”
Rachel walked toward her.
For a moment, Gabriel thought she might strike the woman.
Instead, Rachel asked one question.
“Did my baby cry?”
Eleanor's expression collapsed.
Rachel continued.
“When you took her away, did she cry for me?”
Eleanor wiped her face.
“Yes.”
Rachel closed her eyes.
Gabriel felt the room grow unbearably quiet.
Eleanor reached toward the box.
“I'm sorry.”
Rachel stepped back.
“Don't ask me to forgive you.”
“I won't.”
Eleanor opened the box.
Inside were two faded pink identification bands, a folded nursery photograph, and a hospital visitor's pass.
Gabriel picked up the pass.
ANTHONY MORETTI.
His father's name.
The date was printed clearly.
Twenty-seven years earlier.
Two days after his sister's birth.
“My father visited the maternity ward?”
Eleanor nodded.
“He demanded to see his daughter.”
Gabriel frowned.
“That doesn't make sense.”
“What doesn't?”
“My father told me he never knew about another baby.”
Eleanor opened a yellowed incident report.
“Your father found out the day after she disappeared.”
Gabriel read the report.
Anthony Moretti had filed a complaint alleging unauthorized infant transfer.
The complaint was withdrawn the next morning.
“Why?” Gabriel asked.
Eleanor looked uncomfortable.
“Margaret told hospital management the family wished to handle it privately.”
Rachel stared.
“And everyone accepted that?”
“Anthony was a powerful man. The hospital's director was frightened of a public scandal.”
Gabriel turned the paper over.
There was a handwritten note.
Child located. Family arrangement confirmed.
It carried his father's signature.
Gabriel recognized the handwriting.
He felt a sharp betrayal.
His father had known.
He hadn't merely suspected.
He'd known.
“Where was my sister sent?” he asked.
Eleanor unfolded the nursery photograph.
Two newborn girls lay in adjacent bassinets.
One wore a pink cap.
The other had a small white ribbon tied around her wrist.
“Your sister was transferred to a private adoption agency in Connecticut under the name Evelyn Miller.”
Gabriel stared at the name.
“Evelyn Miller.”
Rachel suddenly gripped his arm.
“What?”
“Daniel's mother was named Evelyn.”
Gabriel looked at her.
“That's a coincidence.”
“Maybe.”
Rachel hesitated.
“But Daniel was adopted. His mother told me when we first married.”
Gabriel felt the conversation shift.
“Where?”
“Connecticut.”
Eleanor's eyes widened.
“When was Daniel born?”
“Thirty-two years ago.”
Eleanor shook her head.
“Then he wasn't the baby. But his adoptive mother may have been involved in the agency.”
Rachel remembered something.
“My husband kept a photograph of his mother's old apartment. There was a young woman in the picture.”
“What young woman?”
“His foster sister.”
Gabriel frowned.
“What's her name?”
Rachel's face slowly drained of color.
“Heather.”
Eleanor's fingers tightened around the photograph.
“Heather Miller?”
Rachel nodded.
Eleanor covered her mouth.
“That's the name your sister used after the adoption.”
Gabriel stared at Rachel.
“Did you know her?”
“Only briefly. Daniel said Heather had cut ties with the family years before we met.”
“Where is she now?”
“I don't know.”
A hospital administrator approached with another folder.
“Mr. Moretti, we located the archived admission log for four years ago.”
Gabriel opened it.
Three mothers had delivered daughters within forty minutes.
Rachel Brooks.
Heather Miller.
And a woman named Allison Reed.
Eleanor leaned forward.
“Three babies?”
Rachel frowned.
“You said two.”
Eleanor looked horrified.
“I was told only two had been switched.”
Gabriel studied the document.
Beside Heather's name was a small handwritten mark.
A silver circle.
Exactly like the locket's shape.
Then Rachel noticed something.
Heather's listed emergency contact wasn't Daniel's adoptive mother.
It was Margaret Moretti.
And the address beside Margaret's name was Gabriel's Manhattan estate.
Rachel looked up.
“Gabriel, your sister was living under your roof's address when Emma was born.”
Gabriel stared at the page.
Then he noticed the final notation.
Maternal patient discharged without infant.
Heather Miller had left the hospital alone.
But beneath the line was a handwritten instruction.
Infant placed according to guardian's written request.
May you like
The authorization carried a signature.
Vanessa Whitmore.
