Chapter 2 - The Woman Who Took Her Home
Leah sat motionless.
For several seconds, the hospital room seemed too small to hold the truth.
“You didn’t give birth to me.”
Ruth shook her head.
“No.”
“Then who did?”
“I don’t know.”
Leah stared at her.
“That makes no sense.”
“It will.”
“When?”
Ruth looked exhausted.
“When I tell you everything.”
“Start now.”
Ruth removed the oxygen tubing, then changed her mind and put it back.
“Twenty-two years ago, I worked nights in the laundry department downstairs.”
“In this hospital?”
“Yes.”
“There was a storm.”
Ruth nodded.
“Power failed in half the building. Backup generators were overloaded. Nurses were moving babies between floors because part of the maternity wing flooded.”
Leah’s pulse accelerated.
“What happened?”
“I found you.”
Leah frowned.
“What does that mean?”
“You were in a bassinet near a service elevator.”
“Alone?”
Ruth nodded.
“There were alarms everywhere. Staff running. Water coming through part of the ceiling.”
“And you just took me?”
“No.”
Ruth looked wounded.
“I picked you up because you were crying.”
“Then what?”
“I found a nurse.”
“Who?”
“I never knew her real name.”
Leah stared at her.
“You never knew?”
“She told me she was transferring you.”
Ruth swallowed.
“Then she disappeared.”
“What?”
“I waited.”
“How long?”
“Almost two hours.”
Leah stood.
“And then you took me home?”
“No.”
Ruth’s voice cracked.
“I went to security. I went to the police desk. I told three people.”
“What did they say?”
“That every infant had been accounted for.”
Leah shook her head.
“That’s impossible.”
“I know.”
“Didn’t you have a bracelet?”
Ruth looked away.
Leah’s voice hardened.
“Mom.”
“There was one.”
“What did it say?”
“Whitmore.”
Leah stopped breathing.
Ruth reached toward her.
“I was afraid.”
“You knew.”
“I suspected.”
“You knew enough.”
“I went back the next morning.”
“And?”
“They told me there was no missing Whitmore baby.”
Leah paced away.
“So you kept me?”
“I kept asking questions.”
“For how long?”
“Three days.”
“And then?”
Ruth cried quietly.
“A hospital administrator told me if I kept making accusations, I could be charged with kidnapping.”
Leah stared.
“So you ran.”
“I took you home.”
“You changed my identity.”
“I filed paperwork months later through a church adoption contact.”
“That’s illegal.”
“Yes.”
“You lied to me for twenty-two years.”
“Yes.”
Leah’s eyes filled with anger.
“You let me grow up believing—”
“That I was your mother.”
“You are my mother.”
The words came automatically.
Both women froze.
Leah wiped her face.
“That’s what makes this worse.”
Ruth nodded.
“I know.”
“Why didn’t you tell me?”
“Because I was selfish.”
“You were scared.”
“No.”
Ruth looked directly at her.
“I loved you. And every year I waited, the truth became harder.”
Leah sat down again.
“Did you ever contact the Whitmores?”
“Once.”
“When?”
“When you were six.”
“What happened?”
“I called their office.”
“And?”
“A lawyer came to my apartment.”
Leah frowned.
“What lawyer?”
“His name was Conrad Vale.”
“What did he say?”
“That Graham and Eleanor Whitmore had one daughter and had no interest in fraudulent claims.”
“Did he see me?”
“Yes.”
Ruth’s voice dropped.
“He saw the birthmark.”
Leah leaned forward.
“And?”
“He offered me money.”
“How much?”
“Fifty thousand dollars.”
Leah went still.
“For what?”
“To stop asking questions.”
Leah stood again.
“Why didn’t you tell the police?”
“Because two days later, someone broke into our apartment.”
Leah’s anger disappeared.
“Were you hurt?”
“No.”
“But there was a note.”
“What did it say?”
Ruth looked ashamed.
“Raise the girl you stole. Forget the family you stole her from.”
Leah stared at the floor.
“So someone knew.”
“Yes.”
“And they wanted me gone.”
“Yes.”
The room door opened.
Eleanor Whitmore stood there.
Behind her was Graham.
Leah immediately moved between Ruth and the door.
“What are you doing here?”
Eleanor held up both hands.
“I’m not here to force anything.”
Graham looked around the modest hospital room.
His expression gave nothing away.
Leah glared at him.
“How did you find us?”
Graham said, “Your mother is registered under the same surname.”
“So you used hospital records?”
Eleanor looked at him.
“You said you wouldn’t.”
“I didn’t access her medical file.”
“That isn’t the point.”
Leah laughed.
“Good. At least you two are consistent.”
Ruth stared at Eleanor.
Eleanor stared back.
“You’re Ruth Carter.”
“Yes.”
“Were you at St. Matthew’s the night my daughter was born?”
Ruth nodded.
Graham’s face changed for the first time.
Eleanor stepped forward.
“You found a baby.”
Ruth looked at Leah.
Then nodded again.
Eleanor began crying.
Graham whispered, “This proves nothing.”
Ruth looked at him.
“There was a bracelet.”
“What bracelet?”
“It said Whitmore.”
Graham’s eyes narrowed.
“That could have been fabricated.”
Leah snapped.
“Do you ever stop talking like everyone is trying to steal something from you?”
His attention moved to her.
“I spent my life protecting my family.”
“And maybe that’s why you couldn’t see somebody already stole part of it.”
Eleanor covered her mouth.
Ruth said quietly:
“There’s more.”
Everyone turned toward her.
“The bracelet had a patient number.”
Graham stepped closer.
“You remember it?”
“I kept it.”
Leah stared.
“What?”
Ruth pointed toward her overnight bag.
“In the side pocket.”
Leah opened it.
Inside was a small envelope.
She pulled out an old hospital identification band.
Yellowed with age.
The printed letters were faint.
But still visible.
WHITMORE, BABY GIRL.
Eleanor sank into the chair.
Graham did not move.
May you like
Leah looked at him.
For the first time that day, the billionaire had nothing to say.
