Chapter 2 - THE CHILD WHO WAS DECLARED DEAD
Vincent read the letter twice before he could continue.
Elena’s handwriting was delicate, slanted slightly to the right. I could
see that he recognized every curve. His thumb moved over her name as
though touching the paper might bring her back.
The letter was short. It said Elena had discovered she was pregnant
shortly before she disappeared. She had planned to tell Vincent after
his father’s funeral, but someone had entered her room and taken the
medical records. A doctor she trusted warned her that the family
intended to use the baby as leverage in a power struggle.
She wrote that she had gone to St. Agnes under an assumed name. The
child was born early, but healthy. A nurse named Margaret Bell had
helped her. Then, two days after the birth, the hospital told Elena that
her baby had died.
Elena did not believe them.
She had heard a newborn crying in the corridor. She had seen a nurse
carrying a blue blanket with the initials V.M. She had tried to follow,
but someone had sedated her. When she woke, the hospital records said
her son had been stillborn.
“I never knew,” Vincent said.
His voice sounded hollow.
“Your father?” I asked gently.
He nodded. “He told me Elena had suffered a breakdown. He said she had
left because she couldn’t accept that I was too busy to give her a
family.”
He looked down at the letter.
“And Vanessa told me Elena had taken money. She said the marriage had
been a mistake.”
“What does the letter say about the baby?”
Vincent found the final paragraph.
If our son is alive, find Margaret Bell. She kept a copy of the original
birth record. Do not trust anyone who says the child died. Do not let
them change his name again.
At the bottom was an address in a small town outside Chicago.
Daniel called while Vincent was still reading. The security chief had
searched the suitcase and found a second envelope tucked beneath the
false bottom. It contained a photograph of Elena holding a newborn. On
the back were the words: My little Gabriel. Born at 2:14 a.m.
Vincent closed his eyes.
“Gabriel,” he whispered.
The next morning, he went to St. Agnes with Daniel and a lawyer. I was
still in the hospital, so he promised to call as soon as he knew
anything.
The hospital’s records department initially denied that Elena had ever
been admitted. But Daniel had brought the bracelet from the suitcase.
Its number matched an archived delivery log.
A retired records clerk was located. She remembered the case.
“She gave birth to a boy,” the woman told them. “The baby was healthy. A
senior administrator came in and ordered the file sealed. We were told
the mother had requested a private adoption.”
“Elena never requested that,” Vincent said.
The clerk lowered her voice. “I know. I saw her crying. She kept asking
where they had taken him.”
The hospital’s official record listed the baby as deceased. But the
delivery log showed a live birth, and the signature authorizing the
transfer belonged to Dr. Martin Shaw—the same physician who had worked
for Vincent’s father.
Vincent’s face hardened.
“Where did they take my son?”
The clerk searched an old index. There was a transfer reference to a
private children’s home called Willow House. The home had closed years
ago, but its records had been moved to the county archive.
Daniel called the archive.
A child named Gabriel Moretti had never been registered there. But a
baby boy born on the same date had been placed with a temporary guardian
under the name Gabriel Bell.
The guardian was Margaret Bell.
Vincent gripped the edge of the counter.
“Find her,” he ordered.
For four years, he had mourned a wife he believed had abandoned him. For
four years, he had believed he had no child.
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Now he knew someone had stolen his son and built a lie around the theft.
And somewhere, a woman named Margaret Bell knew where Gabriel was.
