Chapter 8
Diane ordered me to meet her at an abandoned church outside town.
She wanted Noah’s original file and every document Emily had taken from Harold’s office.
Police told me not to go.
Maya agreed.
Ryan begged me to stay with Noah.
But Diane had Emily.
And she knew the location of Ryan’s daughter.
Investigators created copies of the files and placed tracking devices inside the box.
I wore a microphone beneath my coat.
An officer would hide in the back seat of my car until we reached the church.
For the first time since Noah’s birth, I left him voluntarily.
Sarah stayed with him under police guard.
Before I walked out, I kissed his forehead.
“I’m coming back.”
Rain hammered the road as I drove toward the church.
The building stood alone behind a rusted iron gate.
No lights were visible.
I carried the box inside.
“Diane?”
A lamp switched on near the altar.
Emily sat in a chair with her wrists tied.
Diane stood behind her.
She held a knife near Emily’s shoulder.
“Put the box down.”
I obeyed.
“Let her go.”
“You ruined everything,” Diane said. “I gave Ryan a future. I found good homes for unwanted children. I protected families from women who didn’t deserve to be mothers.”
“You didn’t protect anyone. You profited from their pain.”
Her face twisted.
“You were supposed to be easy.”
“Easy?”
“Exhausted. Isolated. Emotional. Ryan told me you had no strength left.”
The words hurt because they were true.
I had been exhausted.
But they had mistaken exhaustion for weakness.
“You told him to abandon me.”
“I told him to let you reveal yourself.”
“You shook Noah to make me react.”
“He was never in danger.”
“He was five weeks old!”
Diane pressed the knife closer to Emily.
“Where is Noah?”
“Safe.”
“With Ryan?”
“You’ll never get near him again.”
She kicked the box open and searched the files.
Then she found the tracker.
Her eyes snapped toward me.
“You brought the police.”
She grabbed Emily and dragged her toward a side door.
The hidden officer entered with his weapon raised.
“Drop the knife!”
Diane shoved Emily down and ran.
Police flooded the building.
I rushed to my sister.
Before I could untie her, Diane’s car roared outside.
Ryan had been waiting behind the police perimeter.
He jumped into his own vehicle and followed her.
“Ryan, stop!” I shouted into my phone.
“She knows where Grace is.”
“Let the police handle it.”
“I already lost seventeen years.”
His call disconnected.
Officers followed both cars.
Diane drove toward the river, then turned onto an unfinished bridge.
The road ended at a concrete barrier.
She abandoned her vehicle and ran.
Ryan caught up to her near the edge.
By the time police arrived, Diane was holding the knife against her own throat.
“Tell me where Grace is!” Ryan shouted.
“If I go to prison, you’ll never see her.”
“You stopped being my mother the moment you sold my child.”
Diane looked at me as I approached with the officers.
“You did this,” she hissed.
“No,” I said. “You did.”
For one tense second, I thought she would jump.
Then Emily called from behind me.
“We found Grace.”
Diane froze.
Emily held up Harold’s recovered phone.
Grace’s adoptive parents had been located in another state.
She was alive.
She was safe.
And she already knew she had been adopted.
Diane lowered the knife.
The police moved in.
As they placed her in handcuffs, she turned toward Ryan.
“You’ll forgive me.”
Ryan stared at her.
“No, Mom. I finally see you.”
May you like
But Diane only smiled.
“She won’t want you,” she said. “I made sure of that.”
