Chapter 7
Ryan said the photograph was impossible.
“I’ve never had a daughter.”
He was twenty-two when it was taken.
The baby’s mother was a college student named Megan Foster.
Ryan remembered dating her for several months, but Diane had told him Megan moved away after cheating on him.
Harold’s files told a different story.
Megan had become pregnant.
Diane had convinced her that Ryan wanted nothing to do with the baby.
Then she told Ryan that Megan had ended the pregnancy.
Neither of them knew their daughter had been born.
The baby was placed with an adoptive family through New Horizons.
Diane had collected ninety thousand dollars.
Ryan sat on the hospital floor, staring at the photograph.
“My mother sold my child.”
I felt sympathy for him.
But sympathy could not rebuild trust.
“Where is she now?” he asked.
Emily searched the paperwork.
The adoptive parents were listed as Daniel and Rebecca Hale.
Their address was outdated.
The child’s birth name had been Grace Foster.
Her current name was unknown.
Maya handed the file to investigators.
“This proves Diane has been arranging illegal placements for at least seven years.”
Ryan wiped his face.
“Why would she do this to me?”
Sarah, who had joined us at the hospital, answered.
“Because she doesn’t see children as people. She sees them as leverage.”
Sarah explained that Diane had controlled Lucas the same way.
Whenever he resisted her, she threatened to keep his daughter away from him.
Eventually, Lucas left the country and cut contact with everyone.
Diane told the family he had abandoned his child.
Another lie.
My phone buzzed.
This time, the message came from Diane’s number.
A photograph appeared.
Emily’s apartment door.
Beneath it were the words:
RETURN MY FILES OR YOUR SISTER PAYS.
Police rushed to Emily’s building.
We watched through a video call as officers entered the apartment.
It was empty.
Nothing had been stolen.
But on the kitchen table sat a red gift box.
Inside was the original custody petition.
It had not been destroyed.
Attached to it was a flash drive.
The drive contained dozens of recordings of me.
Some were real.
Others had been edited.
In one, my voice appeared to say, “Sometimes I wish Noah had never been born.”
I had never said those words.
A digital analyst confirmed that the sentence had been created by combining pieces from three different conversations.
Diane had been preparing false evidence for months.
Then the analyst found a hidden folder.
It contained a live video feed.
Diane appeared on the screen, sitting in a dark room.
“I knew you would find this,” she said.
The recording was playing in real time.
“You think these files belong to you, Claire?”
“They belong to the police now.”
“No. They are my protection.”
“Against what?”
“Against people who steal children from their rightful families.”
“You stole Ryan’s daughter.”
“I saved her.”
“You sold her.”
Diane’s expression hardened.
Then she lifted a photograph toward the camera.
It showed a teenage girl leaving a school.
Grace.
Ryan stepped into view.
“Where is my daughter?”
Diane smiled.
“You’ll never find her without me.”
A loud crash sounded from Emily’s hallway.
The live feed disappeared.
One of the officers shouted.
Then the video call ended.
I dialed Emily.
No answer.
Seconds later, a final message arrived from Diane.
May you like
I HAVE YOUR SISTER.
BRING NOAH’S FILE ALONE.
