Chapter 9 - The Forged Consent
The DNA results came back two days later.
Probability of maternity:
99.9998 percent.
Claire Carter was Ava Barrett’s biological mother.
Probability of full sibling relationship between Lily Carter and Ava Barrett:
Consistent with monozygotic twins.
Identical.
Emma read the report twice.
Claire did not need to.
She looked at the number and whispered:
“Rose.”
The Barretts arrived at Mara’s office that afternoon.
Hannah carried the baby.
For a moment Claire could not stand.
She had imagined this meeting in hundreds of ways.
She had imagined running.
Screaming.
Grabbing Rose.
Collapsing.
Instead she walked forward slowly.
Hannah was crying before Claire reached her.
“I’m so sorry.”
Claire looked at the child.
Rose slept peacefully in Hannah’s arms.
Her face was almost exactly Lily’s.
A little fuller.
A small scratch near one ear.
The same tiny nose.
The same mouth.
Claire touched one trembling finger to Rose’s hand.
The baby closed her fingers around it.
Claire broke.
She covered her mouth, bent forward, and sobbed.
Hannah sobbed too.
“I didn’t know.”
Claire nodded.
“I know.”
“I swear to you, I didn’t know.”
“I know.”
That did not make it painless.
But it mattered.
Luke stood behind his wife, pale and exhausted.
“We have every document they gave us.”
He placed a folder on the table.
Mara opened it.
Adoption consent.
Medical surrender.
Transfer authorization.
A signed declaration supposedly written by Claire.
I, Claire Carter, voluntarily surrender parental custody of Twin B, female infant, to Agnes Family Services for private placement.
The signature looked convincing.
Claire stared.
“That isn’t mine.”
Mara turned the page.
Another signature.
Margaret Carter.
Witness.
Emma muttered, “Of course.”
Hannah sat down slowly.
“We paid the agency.”
“How much?” Mara asked.
“Seventy-five thousand.”
Claire closed her eyes.
Luke spoke quickly.
“We were told thirty-two was legal and medical expenses, twenty was birth mother support, and the rest was agency costs.”
“I never received a penny,” Claire said.
Luke looked sick.
“We believed you did.”
Mara asked, “Did you ever speak directly to anyone claiming to be Claire?”
Hannah nodded.
“Once.”
Everyone froze.
“When?”
“Three days before the birth.”
Claire stared.
“I was still pregnant.”
“A woman called. She said she’d made her decision and didn’t want contact afterward.”
“What did she sound like?”
Hannah closed her eyes.
“Older than you.”
Emma and Claire looked at each other.
“Margaret,” Emma said.
Hannah began crying again.
“She told me she wanted her daughter to have a better life.”
Claire turned away.
For years, Margaret had told her daughters that love meant sacrifice.
Now Claire understood Margaret’s version of sacrifice always involved someone else losing something.
Mara photocopied every document.
Then she asked the Barretts a difficult question.
“Are you willing to cooperate with law enforcement?”
Luke looked at Hannah.
Hannah looked down at Rose.
Her arms tightened.
Claire noticed.
Something sharp moved through her.
Fear.
Not hatred.
Claire understood it instantly.
Hannah loved Rose.
And she was terrified of losing her.
Claire sat opposite her.
“She’s my daughter.”
Hannah nodded through tears.
“I know.”
“I’m taking her home.”
Hannah’s face folded.
Luke put an arm around her.
Claire continued softly.
“But I’m not going to pretend you didn’t love her.”
Hannah looked up.
Claire’s own tears returned.
“You cared for her when I couldn’t because I didn’t know she was alive.”
“I would never have kept her if I knew.”
“I believe you.”
Hannah cried harder.
Claire reached across the table.
It was not forgiveness.
There was nothing for Hannah to be forgiven for.
It was recognition.
Two women had been deceived by the same crime.
One had been robbed of her child.
The other had been given a child through a lie and told she could safely love her forever.
Rose woke.
She made a tiny squeaking sound.
Claire laughed through her tears.
“The sneeze.”
Hannah laughed too.
Then Rose sneezed.
For the first time in eight weeks, Claire heard two babies in the same room.
Lily answered with a cry from Emma’s arms.
May you like
Claire closed her eyes.
This time nobody told her she imagined it.
