Chapter 4 - THE WOMAN WHO HELD MY SON'S PICTURE
Vanessa Whitmore had attended my company's Christmas party every year for seven years.
She wore designer gowns, donated to charities, and smiled beside Daniel as though they were Manhattan's perfect couple.
Now my daughter was describing her as the woman who carried photographs of my missing son.
I called Daniel immediately.
He answered on the second ring.
"Michael! How's the donation ceremony?"
I stared through the office window.
Outside, reporters were still gathered near the entrance.
"Where's Vanessa?"
A pause.
"Why?"
"Answer me."
"She's visiting her mother. What's wrong?"
I forced myself to breathe.
"Nothing. I'll call later."
I disconnected.
For the first time, I understood how easily Daniel had lied to me.
He hadn't hesitated.
Not once.
Margaret watched me.
"You can't confront them without evidence."
"I know."
But every instinct screamed at me to drive straight to Daniel's penthouse.
To demand answers.
To tear apart every secret he'd hidden behind friendship.
Then Emma slipped her little hand into mine.
"Daddy, are you leaving?"
I looked down.
Her face was frightened.
She'd waited five years for me.
And now she thought I might disappear again.
I crouched.
"No, Emma."
Her eyes filled.
"Promise?"
I swallowed.
I had broken too many promises already.
So I chose my words carefully.
"I'm not going to disappear without telling you where I'm going. And I'm going to keep coming back."
She studied my face.
Then wrapped her arms around my neck.
"Okay."
I held her tightly.
That afternoon, my attorney, Rachel Morgan, arrived at Sunrise.
She reviewed the forged parental-rights document and Claire's letter.
Then she recommended contacting the authorities before Daniel learned what we'd discovered.
I agreed.
By evening, investigators had obtained copies of the financial records Claire referenced.
Several children's medical grants had been redirected into private investment accounts.
One account was registered to a shell company called Northstar Pediatric Services.
Another belonged to an adoption consulting business.
And the final company was controlled by Vanessa Whitmore.
My hands shook as I examined the records.
"Daniel's wife runs an adoption business?"
Rachel nodded.
"Through a holding company."
"Is it legitimate?"
"That's what investigators are determining."
Then she opened another document.
A payment record from a private hospital outside Chicago.
The date was five years earlier.
Three days after Emma and Noah were born.
The beneficiary was listed as a family named Harrington.
My heart pounded.
"Who are they?"
Rachel's expression changed.
"Richard and Allison Harrington. They live in Connecticut."
"Do they have children?"
She nodded.
"A five-year-old boy."
I couldn't breathe.
"What is his name?"
Rachel looked down.
Then whispered:
"Noah."
I stood so quickly the chair fell backward.
But Rachel wasn't finished.
"The Harringtons may have adopted him without knowing anything was wrong."
May you like
She turned another page.
"And according to the hospital records, Vanessa Whitmore signed the transfer documents herself."
