Chapter 2
The wedding music started again.
People laughed.
Glasses clinked.
Claire danced with her new husband beneath warm lights while Lily sat at our table eating the cupcake Diane had tried to take from her.
Everyone around us believed the crisis was over.
I knew better.
Ryan's face told me that.
"What should you have told me?"
He glanced at Lily.
"Not here."
"Your mother just threatened my daughter."
"Emily."
"No."
I lowered my voice.
"You don't get to say 'not here' after that message."
Ryan looked toward the ballroom doors.
"She's probably trying to scare us."
"You looked scared before you even opened the text."
He said nothing.
That silence answered me.
"Ryan."
He rubbed both hands over his face.
"My mother has been holding something over my father for years."
"Your father?"
"Keep your voice down."
His father, Thomas, had died eighteen months earlier.
Officially, it had been a heart attack.
He'd collapsed alone in the family lake house.
Diane had found him the next morning.
At least that was the story.
"What does Thomas have to do with Lily?"
Ryan shook his head.
"I don't know."
"You just said—"
"I know what I said. I know Mom keeps records. Documents. Messages. Anything she can use against someone."
"Why?"
"Because that's who she is."
"You never thought to mention this?"
"I spent half my childhood watching her destroy people."
His eyes were wet now.
"By the time I met you, all I wanted was to build a life that had nothing to do with her."
"You still let her into our life."
"I thought I could control it."
I looked at Lily.
She was laughing softly while Claire showed her how to make a flower from a napkin.
"You couldn't."
"I know."
His phone vibrated again.
This time, the message was from an unknown number.
Check your email.
Ryan opened his email.
One new message.
No subject.
One attachment.
A photograph.
Ryan opened it.
My breath stopped.
It was a hospital nursery.
Rows of clear bassinets.
A date was printed in the lower corner.
Four years earlier.
The day Lily was born.
"What is this?"
Ryan enlarged the picture.
A woman stood beside one bassinet.
Diane.
My mother-in-law.
I remembered that day.
I had nearly died during delivery.
Emergency surgery.
Blood loss.
Hours unconscious.
Ryan had stayed with me.
At least, I thought he had.
Diane had told us later that she'd spent the entire night in the waiting room.
But the photo proved she had been inside the nursery.
"Why was she there?"
Ryan whispered, "I don't know."
Another email arrived.
This one contained a scanned hospital document.
The header had been partially cut off.
My name appeared on one line.
Lily's name appeared on another.
Then there was a signature at the bottom.
Diane Hart.
Authorized family representative.
I felt dizzy.
"What did she authorize?"
"I can't tell."
"You were there."
"I was with you in recovery."
"Then why was your mother signing paperwork for our daughter?"
Ryan looked genuinely confused.
That frightened me more than any confession could have.
A third email arrived.
No attachment.
Only six words.
Ask Ryan about Baby Girl 17.
I stared at him.
"Baby Girl Seventeen?"
"I've never heard that."
"Don't lie to me."
"I'm not."
The ballroom suddenly felt too warm.
Too crowded.
Too loud.
I walked toward Lily.
"We're leaving."
Claire saw my face immediately.
"What happened?"
"Nothing I can explain here."
She stood.
"Do you need me?"
"It's your wedding."
"You're my sister."
I nearly cried.
Instead, I hugged her.
"Stay. Enjoy tonight."
"Emily."
"I'll call you."
Daniel approached.
"You sure?"
I nodded.
Ryan carried Lily while I collected our coats.
We left through a side door so we wouldn't encounter Diane.
I should have known she would think of that.
Our car was parked beneath a row of trees behind the hotel.
The driver's-side windshield had been smashed.
Not shattered completely.
Just struck hard enough to create a spiderweb pattern across the glass.
A white envelope sat beneath the windshield wiper.
Ryan stopped.
"Don't touch it."
I almost laughed.
"Now you're cautious?"
He ignored the insult.
He photographed the envelope before removing it.
Inside was a copy of Lily's birth certificate.
At first, I didn't understand.
Then I noticed one thing.
The certificate number did not match the one in the folder at home.
"Ryan."
He looked at it.
"What?"
"This isn't Lily's certificate."
"It has her name."
"The number."
He stared.
"You know her certificate number?"
"Of course I do."
I had filled out enough school and insurance paperwork to recognize the last four digits.
The document in my hands was different.
"What does that mean?"
"I don't know."
A car pulled into the parking lot.
Ryan immediately stepped in front of Lily and me.
It was Claire's security manager.
He rolled down the window.
"Everything okay?"
Ryan showed him the damaged windshield.
The man got out.
"I'll call hotel security."
I looked around.
"Are there cameras?"
"Yes."
"Good."
A cold fear settled in my chest.
This wasn't an angry mother-in-law sending cruel text messages anymore.
Someone had come to our car.
Someone knew exactly where we parked.
Someone left a document connected to my daughter's birth.
Lily tugged my sleeve.
"Mommy?"
I turned.
"Yes, baby?"
"Is Grandma mad because I got another cupcake?"
My throat closed.
"No."
"Did I do something bad?"
I crouched.
"You did nothing wrong."
"Promise?"
"I promise."
She touched my cheek.
"Then why are you crying?"
I hadn't realized I was.
Ryan rented us a room at another hotel.
We didn't go home.
He said it was temporary.
Only one night.
Until we understood what Diane was doing.
Lily fell asleep almost instantly.
She had no idea that Ryan and I sat ten feet away questioning everything we knew about the day she was born.
At 12:07 a.m., Diane called again.
Ryan put the phone on speaker.
"What do you want?"
Her voice was calm.
Much calmer than it had been outside the wedding.
"An apology."
"You assaulted my daughter."
"Your wife assaulted me."
"You pushed Lily."
Diane sighed.
"You're allowing Emily's emotional instability to destroy your family."
I grabbed the phone.
"My instability?"
"Emily."
"You left a fake birth certificate on our car."
Silence.
Then Diane laughed.
"Oh, sweetheart."
My skin crawled.
"What?"
"You think it's fake."
Ryan stood.
"Mom, what did you do?"
"Nothing that wasn't necessary."
"What does Baby Girl Seventeen mean?"
The line went silent again.
This time, she didn't laugh.
"Where did you hear that?"
"The email."
"What email?"
"You know exactly which email."
"No."
For the first time, Diane sounded nervous.
Ryan heard it too.
"Mom."
"Listen to me carefully. Delete those emails."
"Why?"
"Delete them."
"What happened when Lily was born?"
Diane's voice became sharp.
"That information is none of Emily's concern."
I almost screamed.
"She's my daughter!"
"Are you sure?"
The room stopped moving.
Ryan whispered, "Mom."
Diane continued.
"Some doors should stay closed."
"What did you do?"
"I saved this family."
"From what?"
She hung up.
I stood frozen.
Ryan immediately called back.
No answer.
Again.
Nothing.
I looked toward Lily.
She slept curled beneath the hotel blanket, one hand underneath her cheek.
My daughter.
The child I carried for nine months.
The child whose heartbeat I'd heard.
The child whose tiny fingers had wrapped around mine when I finally woke after surgery.
"She's mine."
Ryan came toward me.
"Of course she is."
"Your mother said—"
"She wants to hurt you."
"But the certificate."
"We don't know what that means."
"Baby Girl Seventeen."
"We don't know."
I looked him directly in the eyes.
"Was Lily ever out of your sight after she was born?"
Ryan opened his mouth.
Then stopped.
My heart began pounding.
"Ryan."
"I went with you when they rushed you back into surgery."
"For how long?"
"Three hours. Maybe four."
"And Lily?"
"The nurses had her."
"Did you see her after?"
"Yes."
"How long after?"
He thought.
Too long.
"Morning."
I felt sick.
"So there were hours when neither of us saw our newborn daughter."
"Emily, don't."
"Don't what? Ask questions?"
"She's our daughter."
"I know that!"
Lily stirred.
We both froze.
She rolled over and remained asleep.
I lowered my voice.
"But somebody wants us to question it."
At 1:14 a.m., my phone buzzed.
Unknown sender.
One message.
Diane isn't the one sending the emails.
I stared at it.
A second message arrived.
If you want the truth about Baby Girl 17, come alone tomorrow.
Then an address appeared.
St. Matthew's Hospital.
The hospital where Lily had been born.
One final message followed.
And don't tell Ryan.
I turned the screen off before my husband could see it.
For the first time since we met, I deliberately hid something from him.
May you like
Because someone knew what happened on the night my daughter was born.
And apparently, they believed my husband couldn't be trusted.
