Chapter 2 - The Truth in the Old Files
By 3:00 a.m., Mercy Harbor Medical Center had grown quiet. The storm had passed, leaving behind a thick, gray fog that hung over the Mississippi River. Ethan sat in the consultation room across from Mara Leland, the social worker. A cardboard cup of untouched black coffee sat between them.
"I ran the mother's name through the state registry," Mara said, sliding a thin manila folder across the table. "Clara Brooks. Thirty-four years old. Cause of death was acute respiratory failure brought on by untreated pneumonia. She died in Room 14 of the Riverview Transit Lodge."
Ethan looked at the photo attached to the file. The vibrant, laughing girl who had sat in his basement office seven years ago was gone. In her place was a gaunt woman with dark shadows under her eyes, her lips drawn into a tight line of permanent exhaustion.
"The motel is a known hub for transient laborers," Mara continued, her voice steady but laced with a quiet anger. "The manager told the police she had been working three jobs until her lungs gave out. She didn't have insurance, Ethan. She didn't even have a bank account. She was living entirely in cash, trying to keep those two girls fed."
"The algorithm she built made my company three hundred million dollars last quarter alone," Ethan said, his voice barely a whisper. He stared at his own manicured hands, suddenly loathing the weight of his platinum watch.
"Well, that algorithm didn't buy her antibiotics," Mara said flatly. "Right now, the state is preparing to take custody of Sadie and Emma. Since there's no legal father listed on either birth certificate and no family members coming forward, they will be placed in separate foster care facilities by tomorrow afternoon."
"No," Ethan said, standing up so fast his chair scraped loudly against the linoleum. "They aren't going to foster care."
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"Ethan, you are a stranger to them legally," Mara warned, standing to face him. "You can't just buy a child’s custody because you feel guilty about an old business deal."
"I’m not buying anything," Ethan said, his phone ringing again in his pocket. He pulled it out, saw the name of his chief legal counsel, and answered it with a voice of pure iron. "Thomas? Cancel the board meeting at seven. I need an emergency temporary guardianship petition drawn up before the family court opens at eight. And find out who owns the Riverview Transit Lodge. I want it bought by noon."
