Chapter 4: The Deal She Never Agreed To
Detective Reeves had a way of listening that made you feel like every word mattered.
He didn't write constantly.
He looked at me.
He let silence sit without filling it.
When I finished describing the last hour — Richard at the bassinet, the blow to my head, Jessica moving toward my other sons — he read back three lines from his notepad and asked me to confirm them.
"He said, *you have no idea how much he was worth.*"
"Yes."
"And before that, *you're young enough to pop out a replacement* — that was the woman.
Jessica."
"His wife.
Daniel's mother."
Reeves nodded slowly.
"And the deal he mentioned at the end.
He said you should have taken it last year.
Do you have any idea what he was referring to?"
"No." I shifted carefully, keeping both boys against me.
"But I want to know."
He turned to the nurse, who was still standing near the door.
"The sealed file — who authorized its delivery to this room?"
"Hospital legal," she said.
"We received a call from a detective's office at 6:40 this morning.
Before the birth.
They said if anyone matching Richard Vance's description appeared on this floor, we were to hold the file and contact security immediately."
I stared at her.
"Someone warned you.
Before he even came in."
"Yes."
"Who called?"
She hesitated.
"The call came from a woman.
She gave her name as Grace Ellison.
She said she was an attorney."
I had never heard that name in my life.
Reeves wrote it down without expression.
"We'll follow up with Ms.
Ellison." He looked back at me.
"Mrs.
Vance, the wire transfer document in that file — the one with the date three days before your due date.
Did your husband ever discuss the pregnancy finances with you?
Medical costs, insurance, anything unusual?"
"Daniel handled all of it.
He said his father wanted to help cover the costs.
I thought—" I stopped.
"I thought it was generosity."
"The account the transfer originated from — it's the same account used in two prior arrangements Dr.
Voss facilitated.
In both cases, the birth mothers were young, financially dependent on the arranging family, and were not informed of the transaction until after the infant was transferred."
The word *transaction* sat in the air like something physical.
"They didn't know," I said.
"No."
"And the babies?"
"In both prior cases, the infants were placed with overseas families.
Private arrangements.
No legal adoption process." He paused.
"In one case, the birth mother attempted to report it.
She was told by her husband's family that she had signed a consent form.
The form was fraudulent, but proving it took three years."
My mouth had gone dry.
"Richard was going to forge my signature."
"We believe so.
The file contains a partially completed consent document.
Your name is on it.
The signature line is blank." He turned the page toward me.
I looked at it for a long moment.
My name, printed in clean type, above a line that someone had intended to fill in while I was unconscious or distracted or simply too overwhelmed with three newborns to notice.
"He planned this before I even delivered," I said.
"The wire transfer date suggests the arrangement was confirmed at approximately thirty-two weeks gestation.
When you were told you were carrying triplets."
I remembered that appointment.
Daniel had held my hand in the ultrasound room.
He had looked stunned — genuinely stunned.
He had cried in the car on the way home.
I had thought they were happy tears.
"He cried," I said, more to myself than to Reeves.
"I'm sorry?"
"Daniel.
When we found out there were three.
He cried." I looked at the detective.
"Was he crying because he was happy, or because he already knew what his father was planning?"
Reeves didn't answer.
He didn't need to.
The door opened.
A uniformed officer leaned in.
"Detective.
The son is asking to make a statement.
Says he has information about a third party."
Reeves stood.
"I'll be right there." He looked at me.
"Is there anyone I can call for you, Mrs.
Vance?
Family.
A friend."
I thought about it.
My mother was three states away.
My closest friend, Diane, had driven me to my last two appointments when Daniel was traveling for work.
"Diane Marsh," I said.
"Her number is in my phone."
He nodded.
"I'll have someone reach her." He moved toward the door, then stopped.
"One more thing.
The name Richard mentioned — the deal from last year.
I think we'll find it in the file.
But I want you prepared." He looked at me steadily.
"It may not be the only thing in there you weren't told about."
He left.
The nurse came to the bassinet and checked the third baby — my third baby — who had finally stopped crying and was sleeping with his fist pressed against his cheek.
"He's perfect," she said quietly.
I looked at all three of them.
"I know."
But somewhere down the hall, Daniel was about to tell a detective something he hadn't been able to say to my face.
May you like
And in a sealed file on my bedside table, a deal with my name on it was waiting to be read.
I reached for the file.
