Chapter 6 - The Price of a Stolen Childhood
Hannah stared at the handwritten instruction.
Do not notify the mother until placement is complete.
For eight years, she had blamed herself for believing her baby was dead.
Now she was looking at evidence that someone had deliberately prevented her from knowing what was happening.
“Did you recognize the handwriting?” Grant asked June.
June hesitated.
“Dr. Hales wrote his capital letters like that. But I can't swear to it from one sentence.”
Grant respected the distinction.
He had spent enough years dealing with contracts to know the difference between suspicion and proof.
Hannah wasn't thinking about contracts.
She was imagining a newborn being carried down a hospital corridor while his mother lay unconscious in another room.
“Did he cry?” she asked.
June looked confused.
“My baby. When they took him. Did he cry?”
June's expression crumpled.
“I don't know, Hannah.”
That answer hurt more than any elaborate lie.
Hannah sat down.
Grant pulled out the chair beside her, but he didn't touch her.
“June,” he said, “would you be willing to provide these notes to an independent investigator?”
The retired nurse looked at her notebook.
“I should have spoken up eight years ago.”
“Yes,” Hannah said.
June flinched.
Hannah's voice remained quiet.
“But speaking now still matters.”
June nodded.
“I'll do it.”
On the drive back to Greenwich, Grant made a decision.
The hospital investigation would not be conducted by anyone connected to the Whitmore Family Foundation.
He arranged for an outside medical-records specialist and independent counsel to preserve the original documents and request a review of the adoption.
Hannah listened without interrupting.
Then she asked, “What happens if they prove Noah is mine?”
Grant tightened his grip on the steering wheel.
“I don't know.”
It was the first completely honest answer either of them could give.
“Would you fight me for him?”
Grant glanced at her.
“I've been his father since he was three days old.”
“And I've been his mother since the day he was born.”
The words hung between them.
Grant pulled into a quiet parking area overlooking Long Island Sound.
“Hannah, if someone took him from you, I'll help expose it.”
“But?”
“But I won't pretend losing him wouldn't destroy me.”
She looked out at the gray water.
“I don't want to destroy you.”
“I know.”
“I want my son.”
Grant swallowed.
“So do I.”
For several minutes, neither spoke.
Then Hannah said something that changed the conversation.
“Maybe the first thing Noah needs is for both of us to stop acting like somebody has to lose.”
Grant turned toward her.
She was crying.
But she hadn't raised her voice.
He reached for a tissue and handed it to her.
“I think Charlotte would have liked you.”
Hannah shook her head.
“Don't make me a replacement for your wife.”
Grant absorbed the correction.
“You're right.”
They drove home in silence.
At the estate, Victoria was waiting in Grant's study.
She had already heard that he visited June Carver.
“You went to that woman?”
Grant shut the door.
“Why does that frighten you?”
“Because June was always emotional. She misunderstood hospital procedures.”
“You remember her?”
Victoria stopped.
Grant watched her carefully.
“You told me you were only involved after Noah was placed with us.”
“I helped arrange the adoption.”
“Did you go to St. Anne's before he left?”
Victoria's fingers tightened around her handbag.
“Yes.”
“Why did you lie?”
“Because I knew how you'd react.”
“Try telling me what happened.”
She lowered herself into a chair.
“Charlotte had lost your daughter. You barely spoke. She barely ate. Every room in this house reminded her of that nursery.”
Grant looked away.
He remembered.
Victoria continued.
“Robert Hales told me there was a newborn whose mother was unable to care for him. A boy who needed a home.”
“Hannah wasn't unable to care for him.”
“I didn't know her.”
“You knew her name.”
“I knew what Robert told me.”
Grant placed June's transfer receipt on the desk.
“Then explain your signature.”
Victoria stared at it.
For a moment, her composure failed.
“I authorized his movement to the private family suite.”
“On whose authority?”
“Hales said the hospital had obtained consent.”
“The mother was unconscious.”
“I wasn't told that.”
Grant leaned forward.
“Did you ever meet her?”
Victoria didn't answer.
“Mother.”
“No.”
The word came out almost inaudibly.
Then she straightened.
“I did not take a baby from his mother's arms, Grant. I was told the placement was lawful.”
“Did Charlotte know you went to the hospital?”
“No.”
“Why?”
Victoria's eyes filled.
“Because she was still recovering, and I wanted to bring her good news.”
Grant stood.
“Good news shouldn't require hiding where it came from.”
Victoria looked at her son.
“Do you think I don't love Noah?”
“I know you do.”
“Then why are you treating me like a criminal?”
“Because loving him doesn't answer what you did.”
He told her that, pending the investigation, she could visit Noah only when Grant was present.
She would no longer direct the household staff or make decisions about his education.
Victoria stood slowly.
“This is still my family's house.”
Grant met her gaze.
“No. It's Noah's home.”
She left without another word.
Later that evening, Grant found Hannah sitting beside Noah at the kitchen table.
The boy was showing her a drawing.
It depicted three people beneath an enormous yellow sun.
One wore a gray dress.
One wore a black suit.
The smallest had bright blue shoes.
Grant recognized himself immediately.
He pointed to the figure in gray.
Hannah signed his question.
Noah smiled.
Mommy Hannah.
Grant's chest tightened.
He wasn't ready for how much that hurt.
Hannah noticed.
She gently signed to Noah.
You can love Dad too.
Noah looked at Grant.
Then he moved his fingers.
Dad sad?
Grant shook his head, though tears were already forming.
Hannah showed him how to sign:
Happy you're here.
He tried.
Noah corrected him.
Then the boy reached for Grant's hand.
It was a small gesture.
But Grant understood it without translation.
When Noah went upstairs, Hannah noticed something on the drawing's reverse side.
A line written in Charlotte's handwriting.
If he ever asks, tell him he has two beginnings, and neither one was a mistake.
Beneath it was an appointment date from 2024.
And a name.
Robert Hales.
Grant stared at it.
Then he remembered something he had overlooked for two years.
The week before Charlotte died, she had asked him to cancel a meeting with Robert Hales.
He had refused because he believed it was a routine foundation appointment.
May you like
Now he realized Charlotte hadn't wanted to cancel the meeting.
She had wanted Grant to attend it with her.
