Chapter 13 - The Other Child
Victoria was under federal guard at St. Catherine’s Hospital.
She had a fractured wrist.
Two cracked ribs.
And enough legal exposure to spend decades in prison.
Nathan entered her room with Grace.
Victoria looked at Grace first.
Then away.
Grace shut the door.
“My son.”
Victoria froze.
Nathan watched her.
Grace stepped closer.
“Where is he?”
Victoria’s face drained.
“I don’t know.”
Grace’s voice trembled.
“Wrong answer.”
Victoria looked at Nathan.
He did not help her.
Grace moved closer.
“You stood over me with a hockey stick.”
“You told me dead people keep secrets.”
Victoria began crying.
Grace’s eyes hardened.
“So stop pretending you suddenly have a conscience.”
Victoria whispered.
“I thought he died.”
Grace slammed her palm against the bedside table.
“WHERE IS HE?”
Victoria flinched.
Nathan had never seen Grace so furious.
Victoria looked at her.
“My father brought him home.”
“When?”
“The day after you gave birth.”
Grace stopped breathing.
Victoria continued.
“He told me the baby belonged to a woman who couldn’t care for him.”
Nathan’s jaw clenched.
“You were twenty-four.”
“Yes.”
“You believed that?”
“At first.”
Grace’s voice broke.
“What happened?”
Victoria looked toward the window.
“My father gave the baby to a couple.”
“Who?”
“Robert and Claire Hastings.”
Nathan knew the name.
Robert Hastings ran one of Cole Meridian’s venture funds.
“Where do they live?”
Victoria shook her head.
“They died.”
Grace swayed.
Nathan caught her.
“When?”
“Three years ago.”
“How?”
Victoria closed her eyes.
“House fire.”
Nathan and Grace looked at each other.
Another fire.
Another erased witness.
“What happened to the child?”
Victoria whispered.
“He survived.”
Grace grabbed the bedrail.
“Where?”
“I don’t know.”
Nathan stared.
Victoria continued.
“Social services placed him.”
“Name?”
“My father changed it.”
“Original?”
“He didn’t have one.”
Grace started crying.
Nathan’s voice hardened.
“What name did the Hastings family use?”
Victoria hesitated.
“Ethan.”
Grace repeated it.
“Ethan.”
Her knees shook.
Nathan held her.
Victoria reached toward Grace.
“I’m sorry.”
Grace stepped back.
“Don’t.”
Victoria withdrew her hand.
“I was jealous of you.”
Grace laughed bitterly.
“You didn’t know me.”
“I knew Nathan loved you.”
Nathan looked at her.
Victoria’s face twisted.
“My father showed me photographs.”
“He told me you were weak.”
“He told me Nathan would eventually forget you.”
“He told me our marriage would protect both families.”
Nathan stared.
“You built your life around replacing her.”
Victoria cried.
“Yes.”
Grace looked disgusted.
Victoria continued.
“When Lily appeared, everything I had been promised became unstable.”
“So you tried to hurt her mother.”
“Yes.”
Victoria did not hide anymore.
Grace’s eyes filled.
“Did you ever hurt Ethan?”
Victoria looked horrified.
“No.”
“Did you ever see him after the Hastings took him?”
“Once.”
“When?”
“He was two.”
“Where?”
“A Christmas party.”
Grace closed her eyes.
She had been living somewhere in Vermont that Christmas, teaching Lily to stack blocks.
Her son had been less than a hundred miles away at a corporate party.
Nathan asked.
“Do you have photographs?”
Victoria nodded.
“Old phone backup.”
Federal agents retrieved the cloud archive.
Twenty minutes later, an image appeared.
A small boy sat beside a Christmas tree.
Dark hair.
Blue-gray eyes.
Nathan stopped breathing.
The boy looked like Lily.
Not exactly.
But enough.
Grace touched the screen.
“My baby.”
Nathan looked at the date.
Three years ago.
Ethan would be five now.
Victoria whispered.
“After the fire, my father handled everything.”
Nathan turned.
“He arranged the foster placement?”
“Yes.”
“With whom?”
“I don’t know.”
Grace leaned closer.
“You said Victoria might know.”
Nathan turned.
Margaret stood in the doorway.
Federal agents had brought her.
Margaret entered slowly.
“I know the agency.”
Grace stared.
“You waited until now?”
Margaret flinched.
“I wasn’t certain.”
“Say the name.”
“Bright Horizons Foster Services.”
Elena began searching from the hallway.
Nathan’s face changed.
Bright Horizons was funded by the Vale Foundation.
Margaret nodded.
“Samuel controlled it.”
Grace whispered.
“He hid children through a foster agency.”
Margaret closed her eyes.
“Yes.”
Nathan’s anger rose.
“How many?”
“I don’t know.”
Grace looked at Victoria.
Victoria cried.
“I swear I didn’t know that part.”
Grace said nothing.
Elena returned.
“The agency was dissolved eighteen months ago.”
Nathan frowned.
“Records?”
“Sealed by family court.”
“Judge?”
Elena looked at Margaret.
“Andrew Vale.”
Nathan laughed once.
Of course.
Elias arrived with an emergency federal order.
By evening, they had the records.
Ethan Hastings had been placed under a new identity.
Destination classified.
Nathan read the foster parent code.
BH-441.
Elena searched archived payment records.
The code corresponded to a monthly stipend.
Payments still active.
The child was alive.
Grace sat down hard.
Nathan squeezed her shoulder.
“Alive.”
She nodded through tears.
Elena traced the bank account.
The foster parent lived in Pennsylvania.
A small town outside Scranton.
Nathan and Grace left immediately.
No press.
No private jet.
No convoy.
Just them and Elena.
The house was blue.
A bicycle lay in the yard.
Grace stopped at the gate.
Her hands shook.
Nathan stood beside her.
“What if he doesn’t know me?”
“He won’t.”
Grace cried.
“What if he hates me?”
“He’s five.”
“What if they told him I abandoned him?”
Nathan looked at her.
“Then we tell him the truth slowly.”
Grace covered her mouth.
Nathan waited.
She finally walked forward.
A woman opened the door.
Mid-fifties.
Kind face.
Suspicious eyes.
“Can I help you?”
Elena showed credentials.
“We’re looking for a child placed through Bright Horizons.”
The woman went pale.
Nathan knew.
“He’s here.”
She looked at Grace.
Grace whispered.
“His name was Ethan.”
The woman’s eyes filled.
“Oh my God.”
Grace almost fell.
Nathan caught her.
The woman opened the door wider.
“He’s called Noah now.”
Grace repeated.
“Noah.”
The woman nodded.
“He’s upstairs.”
Nathan’s chest tightened.
The woman looked toward the staircase.
“Noah?”
Small footsteps.
A boy appeared at the top.
Dark hair.
Blue-gray eyes.
Nathan could not breathe.
Grace started crying.
The boy stopped.
“Who are they?”
His foster mother knelt.
“Sweetheart.”
Grace stepped forward slowly.
Noah backed away.
Nathan stopped her gently.
“Give him space.”
Grace nodded.
Noah stared at Nathan.
Then his eyes widened.
He looked at Grace.
Then Nathan again.
“You’re the people from my pictures.”
Everyone froze.
Nathan frowned.
“What pictures?”
Noah ran upstairs.
He returned carrying a metal box.
He opened it.
Inside were dozens of photographs.
Nathan.
Grace.
Lily.
Taken over years.
Grace stared.
“Who gave you these?”
Noah pointed toward one photograph.
A man stood reflected in a window.
Nathan enlarged the image.
Samuel Vale.
Noah whispered.
“Grandpa Sam.”
Grace felt sick.
Nathan crouched.
“When did Grandpa Sam last visit?”
Noah thought.
“Yesterday.”
Nathan and Elena looked at each other.
Samuel had been under federal guard since the Albany facility.
Impossible.
Unless the man arrested was not the only person using Samuel’s identity.
Nathan took out his phone.
He pulled up Samuel’s hospital image.
“Is this Grandpa Sam?”
Noah shook his head.
“No.”
Nathan’s heart dropped.
Grace stared.
“Then who is?”
Noah pointed to the reflected man.
Nathan enlarged it further.
The face became clearer.
Elias saw the image remotely.
He inhaled sharply.
Nathan looked at him through video.
“You know him.”
Elias whispered.
“Yes.”
“Who?”
Elias’s face went white.
“That’s Charles Cole.”
May you like
Nathan’s dead father was standing in a photograph taken four months ago.
---
