Chapter 4 - THE RECORDING IN THE DIAPER BAG
No one moved.
Vivian’s recorded voice continued through the cracked phone.
“Daniel, stop acting sentimental. Emma is useful only until the Reed authorization clears. After that, we decide what happens to her.”
The audio broke into static.
Daniel stomped on the phone.
The security man nearest him shoved him backward.
“Don’t touch it.”
“It’s illegally recorded,” Daniel said.
His composure was fracturing in thin, visible lines. A pulse beat in his neck. His right hand opened and closed at his side.
The elderly man bent and picked up the damaged phone.
“Who gave you this?” he asked me.
“I bought it.”
“That isn’t what I asked.”
I looked at him.
He knew.
Or at least suspected.
“A woman called me at the hospital,” I said. “She told me Daniel had taken my regular phone. She said I needed a way to document what happened in this house.”
“What woman?”
“She didn’t give me her name.”
Vivian laughed once, but there was no humor in it. “Convenient.”
The old man turned toward her. “You were discussing transferring guardianship of a newborn. I would be cautious about accusing anyone else of convenience.”
Daniel pointed at me. “She edited that recording.”
“I barely know how to use the phone.”
“You planned this.”
“I pressed one button while I was kneeling in your mother’s dirty water.”
The paramedic beside me touched my shoulder. “We need to leave now.”
The old man handed the phone to one of his guards.
“Preserve everything.”
Daniel moved toward the guard. “That device is my property.”
“It was in my diaper bag,” I said.
“You’re my wife.”
The words came out with such ownership that even Vivian glanced at him.
The old man’s gaze hardened. “She is not an extension of your inventory.”
A second ambulance crew member brought a neonatal carrier from the vehicle. I allowed Lily to be placed inside only after checking every strap myself.
My hands shook so badly that the female paramedic helped guide my fingers.
The foyer tilted.
I heard Vivian say my name, but her voice seemed far away.
“Emma, you are embarrassing yourself.”
I looked at her through the haze.
She stood untouched on dry marble, pearls straight, blonde hair smooth.
She had kicked filthy water over my fresh incision.
Yet in her mind, my refusal to hide it was the embarrassment.
The paramedics rolled me toward the open doors.
The elderly man followed.
“Where are you taking her?” Daniel demanded.
“St. Catherine’s,” the paramedic replied.
Daniel’s face changed.
It was subtle, but I saw it.
So did the old man.
“Not there,” Daniel said.
The paramedic frowned. “Why?”
“Her records are at Memorial.”
“I delivered at St. Catherine’s,” I said.
Daniel looked at me. “No, you didn’t.”
I stared at him.
The pain, smoke, and fear fell away for a second.
“Yes, I did.”
“You’re confused.”
“I was there for four days.”
Vivian stepped between us. “St. Catherine’s does not have the specialist Emma needs.”
“What specialist?” the paramedic asked.
Vivian opened her mouth.
Nothing came out.
The elderly man’s expression became dangerously still.
“Take her to St. Catherine’s,” he said.
Daniel turned on him. “You don’t control this.”
“No,” the old man replied. “But your panic tells me someone at that hospital knows why you’re afraid.”
Daniel looked toward the driveway.
For the first time, I noticed a black sedan parked beyond the SUVs.
Its rear door stood open.
No one was inside.
The old man saw it too.
He spoke quietly to one of the security men. “Find out who arrived before us.”
The guard nodded and moved outside.
We reached the ambulance.
As the paramedics lifted the stretcher, I caught Daniel staring at Lily’s carrier.
Not with love.
With calculation.
My stomach tightened.
“Keep him away from her,” I whispered.
The elderly man came close enough that only I could hear.
“He will not touch your daughter.”
“You don’t know what he’s capable of.”
“No,” he said. “But I know what his family has been trying to access.”
The stretcher locked into place.
I looked up at him.
“What are they trying to access?”
His gray eyes held mine.
“Something your mother hid in your name.”
The ambulance doors began to close.
Daniel broke away from the guard near the foyer and rushed toward us.
“Emma!”
His voice cracked across the driveway.
He held a charred sheet of paper torn from the study.
Only one line remained readable.
A hospital file number.
Mine.
May you like
Beneath it, in Daniel’s handwriting, were the words:
INFANT DNA CONFIRMATION REQUIRED BEFORE TRANSFER.
