Chapter 3 - The Botanical Gardens
The morning sun filtered through the glass panes of the historic botanical greenhouse, casting long, emerald shadows across the orchids and ferns. The air was thick with the scent of damp earth and blooming jasmine.
Mark and I walked side-by-side along the stone path, our footsteps echoing softly against the flags. Ethan was with my brother Wade, safe at our house playing video games under strict lockdown orders. We couldn't risk bringing him into the open until we knew who we were dealing with.
"She’s late," Mark muttered, checking his watch for the fourth time in two minutes.
"She’s terrified, Mark. Imagine finding out your entire life is built on a stolen child," I replied, keeping my eyes fixed on the arched wooden bridge ahead.
A figure emerged from behind a dense wall of cascading ivy.
It was a woman in her mid-thirties, wearing a beige trench coat with the collar turned up. Her dark hair was pulled back into a practical ponytail, and her eyes darted nervously from side to side. It was Sarah.
"Sarah," Mark called out softly, stepping forward with his hands open and empty.
Sarah stopped on the path, clutching a leather handbag against her chest like a shield. She looked at us, her gaze lingering on Mark’s face before settling on mine. The resemblance was uncanny—not just in features, but in the anxious tilt of the head, the shape of the jawline.
"You really look like him," Sarah whispered, her voice trembling. "Or rather... he really looks like you."
"Where is he?" I asked, stepping closer, fighting the overwhelming urge to reach out and touch her coat just to anchor myself to reality. "Where is my son?"
"He’s at school," Sarah said quickly. "I dropped him off at St. Jude’s Preparatory twenty minutes ago. I couldn't bring him here—David has people watching us. He knows something is wrong."
"Your husband knows?" Mark asked, his brow furrowing.
"David didn't steal him," Sarah said defensively, her voice rising slightly before she caught herself and dropped it back to a whisper. "David thought it was a legitimate closed adoption through the church network! He paid eighty thousand dollars in legal fees to an agency run by Aunt Evelyn. He loves Leo as his own. But last night, when I confronted him about the hospital bracelets Mark showed me... he didn't look surprised, Claire. He looked guilty."
I felt the ground shift beneath my feet. "What are you saying?"
"I’m saying David’s family didn't just adopt a baby," Sarah said, tears welling in her eyes. "They bought him. And David’s father sits on the board of directors at St. Jude’s Hospital. The same hospital where Judith and Evelyn covered up the entire operation."
Before Mark could answer, the crunch of gravel behind us shattered the quiet atmosphere of the greenhouse.
I whipped around.
Standing at the entrance of the arched path were two men in dark suits. Broad-shouldered, expressionless, with the unmistakable posture of private security or off-duty law enforcement.
And stepping out from behind them, leaning heavily on an ornate silver-handled cane, was Aunt Evelyn.
She looked older than she had when she moved to Seattle ten years ago, but her eyes were just as sharp as broken glass. She wore a tailored houndstooth coat and a silk scarf tied immaculately around her neck.
"Well, well, well," Evelyn’s voice rang out, clear and mocking in the enclosed space. "Family reunions are always so emotional. Though usually, they happen over turkey, not industrial espionage in a public park."
Sarah gasped, stepping backward until her shoulder hit Mark’s chest.
"Aunt Evelyn," Mark growled, stepping in front of us. "You’ve got some explaining to do."
"I have nothing to explain to a nephew who never learned how to mind his own business," Evelyn replied smoothly, tapping her cane against the stone. "You boys always were clumsy. Stumbling into clinics, digging through old records... did you really think a forty-year institutional cover-up was going to unravel just because a little boy dropped a toy truck?"
"You stole my child," I stepped out from behind Mark, my voice trembling with a rage so hot it burned my throat. "You looked me in the eye in that recovery room and told me my baby died. You took my flesh and blood and sold him like property."
Evelyn didn't even blink. She offered a cold, patronizing smile.
"Property? Oh, Claire, please. Let’s not be melodramatic. In 2018, you and Mark were living in a drafty two-bedroom rental with negative bank balances. You couldn't afford one child, let alone two. Meanwhile, the Miller family was offering an endowment to the hospital’s pediatric wing and desperately wanted a healthy heir. It was a mutually beneficial transaction."
"A transaction?" Mark lunged forward, but the two suit-wearing guards instantly intercepted him, blocking his path with effortless, professional muscle.
"Don't be foolish, Mark," Evelyn warned, her tone hardening. "You can’t fight the hospital board. You can’t fight the legal system. Every document, every birth certificate, every adoption decree has been sealed by a judge with airtight jurisdiction. If you push this, if you make a public scandal out of a closed adoption, the courts won't give you Leo. They’ll brand you as unstable, and they might even question your custody of Ethan."
My blood ran cold. Ethan.
They wouldn't just keep Leo; they would try to take my other son to silence us.
Sarah covered her mouth, sobbing openly. "You monsters... you ruined my life. You lied to me for seven years!"
"Quiet, child," Evelyn snapped, her gaze shifting to Sarah with undisguised contempt. "You got a brilliant, healthy boy out of the deal. Be grateful and go home to your husband before he cuts off your credit cards."
Evelyn turned her attention back to me, leaning slightly on her cane.
"Here is my offer," Evelyn said, her voice dropping into a chilling, businesslike register. "Drop the investigation. Forget the hospital bracelets. Sign a binding non-disclosure agreement by sundown tonight, and we will ensure that your bakery loan gets fully funded by an anonymous donor. You can live a nice, quiet, comfortable life with Ethan. And Leo stays where he is."
May you like
She turned on her heel, signaling the two guards.
"Think about it," Evelyn called over her shoulder as she walked down the path. "Ignorance is a very comfortable blanket, Claire. I suggest you stay wrapped in it."
