Chapter 8 - The Reclamation
The final piece of the puzzle came from an unexpected source: the clinic where I was born.
Madeline and I traveled there in the spring. It was a crumbling, abandoned building in a rural county. We found the basement records room, long flooded and forgotten.
"Why are we here?" I asked.
"Because they told me you died," Madeline said, her face set in a grim line. "And I don't believe in complications anymore."
We found the ledger. It wasn't water-damaged. It was preserved in a heavy metal trunk. I opened it to the date of my birth.
There was no entry for an orphan. There was an entry for a private transfer, signed by a doctor I didn't recognize. And beside the doctor’s name was a signature: Raymond Brooks.
He hadn't just stolen me. He had bought me from the doctor. He had paid for me like a piece of equipment.
I felt the last piece of the lie fall away. I wasn't stolen from an orphanage. I was kidnapped, and the medical system had been the accomplice.
I took the ledger, closed the trunk, and walked out into the sunlight.
May you like
"What do you want to do with this?" Madeline asked.
"I want to make sure no doctor ever sells a child again," I said. "I’m buying the clinic site, and I’m turning it into a foundation for pediatric medical ethics."
