Chapter 8 - They Weren't Trying to Give Me a Baby—They Were Trying to Take Hers
“That's my daughter.”
Maris's voice echoed through the archive.
She held Poppy against her chest, one hand protecting the back of the child's head.
“That's my little girl.”
Dashiell turned away from the screen.
“Maris, nobody is taking Poppy.”
She looked at him with absolute terror.
“You don't know that.”
He couldn't argue.
Not after everything they'd uncovered.
Nathan closed the file and stepped toward the door.
“I'll have security review every access to this archive and secure the original records.”
Dashiell nodded.
“Preserve copies outside the company. And contact the authorities about the altered identity documents.”
Maris held Poppy tighter.
“I want to leave.”
“Of course.”
But before she moved, Dashiell said, “There's one thing I need you to know.”
She stared at him.
“I didn't authorize any adoption. I didn't know your daughter existed until tonight.”
Maris's eyes filled.
“I believe you want to believe that.”
The words hurt.
But Dashiell understood.
Trust wasn't something he could demand.
Especially not from someone whose family had spent decades being betrayed by his.
He turned toward Nathan.
“Arrange a private security escort. Independent of the foundation.”
Maris shook her head.
“I have a friend who can take us in.”
“Then we'll take you there.”
She hesitated.
Poppy looked up.
“Home, Mommy?”
Maris kissed her forehead.
“Somewhere safe, sweetheart.”
Dashiell watched the child's eyes droop.
Then he looked back at the forged adoption records.
Someone had chosen Poppy.
Not because she needed a home.
But because she already belonged to the family they wanted to control.
And that made the entire deception more horrifying.
The fake pregnancy hadn't simply been designed to fool Dashiell.
It had been designed to make Poppy's disappearance seem like a miraculous birth.
A child with Mercer blood would enter his household.
Maris would lose her daughter.
And the people controlling the trust would eliminate the most direct living claimant capable of challenging them.
Dashiell felt physically ill.
He turned to Corinne, who had been brought to the archive by Nathan's team.
She stood near the shelves, looking at the photograph on the screen.
“Did you know?” he asked.
She stared at Poppy.
Then shook her head.
“No.”
“Corinne.”
“I knew there was supposed to be a child.”
“Whose child?”
“They told me the mother couldn't care for her.”
Maris laughed bitterly.
“Look at me.”
Corinne slowly raised her eyes.
“Do I look like a mother who doesn't care for her child?”
“No.”
“Then why did you agree?”
Corinne began crying.
“Because I believed what Merrick told me.”
Maris shook her head.
“You didn't bother to find out.”
Corinne said nothing.
That silence meant more than any excuse.
Dashiell looked at her.
“When did you learn Poppy was the child?”
Corinne swallowed.
“Tonight.”
“When?”
“When she pointed at me downstairs.”
Dashiell remembered the panicked laugh.
The broken champagne glass.
The desperate request not to open the upstairs room.
“You recognized her?”
“I recognized the rabbit.”
Maris froze.
“What?”
Corinne looked at the stuffed animal in Poppy's arms.
“Merrick showed me a photograph last week. He said the child had a toy she always carried.”
Maris looked down.
Poppy's rabbit was missing one button eye.
Her mother had sewn a tiny yellow star onto its ear.
A detail so ordinary and intimate that its inclusion in an adoption file felt like a violation.
“How did he get that picture?” Maris whispered.
Corinne shook her head.
“I don't know.”
Maris's expression hardened.
“You knew there was a real child.”
“Yes.”
“And you still wore that thing?”
Corinne lowered her eyes.
“I was afraid.”
Maris stepped forward.
“So was I.”
The words silenced the room.
“I was afraid every time my rent went up. Every time Poppy got sick and I couldn't afford to miss a shift. Every time somebody with a nicer coat talked to me like I was dirt.”
Her voice shook.
“But I never used my fear as permission to hurt somebody else's child.”
Corinne started crying harder.
Dashiell didn't intervene.
There was nothing he could say that would make Maris's words less true.
Finally, Corinne whispered, “I'm sorry.”
Maris looked at her.
“Then help stop him.”
Corinne wiped her cheeks.
“I will.”
Dashiell studied her.
“How?”
She reached into her evening purse.
Inside was a small cream-colored appointment card.
The card bore the name of a private family-services agency.
Below it was an address in White Plains, New York.
Corinne handed it to him.
“Merrick told me to go there next Tuesday.”
“For what?”
“To sign the final placement paperwork.”
Dashiell stared at her.
“Without me?”
“He said your signature was already arranged.”
Dashiell felt another surge of anger.
His forged signature again.
Merrick had planned to complete an adoption without the knowledge of either biological mother or supposed adoptive father.
Corinne continued.
“There was a woman involved. A consultant.”
“Name?”
“Elaine Voss.”
Nathan immediately looked up.
“I recognize that name.”
Dashiell turned.
“From where?”
“She's listed on several foundation contracts as an outside compliance specialist.”
“Find her.”
Nathan nodded.
Then Corinne said something unexpected.
“She wasn't happy with Merrick.”
Dashiell frowned.
“What do you mean?”
“At their last meeting, I heard them arguing.”
“About what?”
“Money.”
Maris tightened her grip on Poppy.
Corinne continued.
“Elaine said she'd been promised a larger payment once the child was placed.”
Dashiell felt cold.
“Payment for what?”
Corinne shook her head.
“I don't know.”
Nathan began reviewing the foundation's accounting records.
Within minutes, he found a series of transfers to Elaine Voss's consulting company.
The payments had increased steadily over the past year.
Then he found something worse.
A scheduled transfer set for the following Friday.
The day of the trust review.
Seven million dollars.
Dashiell stared.
“What was the payment description?”
Nathan hesitated.
“Beneficiary resolution services.”
Maris looked at him.
“What does that mean?”
Dashiell shook his head.
“I don't know.”
But he had a terrible suspicion.
Merrick wasn't merely trying to take Poppy.
He was trying to erase the Reyes family from the trust while making it appear that the family had voluntarily transferred its rights.
And Elaine Voss was supposed to help him.
Nathan opened the attached authorization.
The document carried Dashiell's signature.
Another forgery.
But beneath it was a second signature.
Maris Reyes.
She stared at the screen.
“I never signed that.”
Dashiell looked closer.
The signature matched an employment form from the hotel.
Same distinctive looping R.
Same slant.
Someone had copied it.
Then Nathan scrolled to the witness section.
The listed witness was Elaine Voss.
And next to her name was a timestamp.
Dashiell frowned.
“That's tomorrow.”
Nathan looked at him.
“Yes, sir.”
Dashiell read the line again.
The transfer agreement hadn't been completed.
It was scheduled to become effective at nine the next morning.
Maris looked terrified.
“Can they do that without me?”
Dashiell reached for his phone.
“Not if I can stop it.”
He called the foundation's independent trustee administrator.
The response stunned him.
The documents had already been submitted.
And according to the administrator, the board had received notice that Dashiell Mercer intended to resign as foundation chairman at nine the next morning.
Dashiell stared at the phone.
“I never resigned.”
The administrator hesitated.
“Mr. Mercer, the resignation has your authenticated digital signature.”
Dashiell looked at Maris.
Then at Corinne.
Then at the photograph of Poppy.
The plan was bigger than a stolen child.
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By morning, Merrick intended to remove Dashiell from power, transfer Maris's inherited rights, and take control of the family trust.
And the little girl who had exposed everything was the one person he still needed.
