Chapter 18 - THE WOMAN AT THE DOOR|
The knock came on a Sunday afternoon.
Claire was reading on the sofa when the apartment intercom buzzed. She checked the security screen and saw an older woman standing in the lobby, wearing a dark coat and holding a small leather bag.
Margaret Hayes.
Claire pressed the button.
“I'm coming down.”
Jonathan had advised her not to meet anyone connected to the investigation without arranging proper precautions. But Margaret had traveled from Boston with her attorney, and the visit had been planned through counsel.
Claire met them in the building's private conference room.
Margaret looked thinner than she had on the video call. She carried a folder against her chest.
“I have something I need you to see,” she said.
Her attorney placed a document on the table.
It was an old hospital record, dated six years earlier. The patient name had been partially obscured, but the date and location matched the clinic photograph.
A second page contained a birth certificate amendment.
Claire leaned closer.
The original record listed a female infant under the name Sophia Marie Hayes. A later amendment changed the surname and recorded a new guardian.
Anthony Moretti.
Margaret covered her mouth.
“I never knew my daughter had a child.”
Claire looked at her carefully.
“Does this prove Isabella was the mother?”
“Not by itself,” the attorney replied. “The documents require authentication. But they are consistent with the account Sophia provided.”
Margaret opened her leather bag and removed a small photograph.
It showed a young woman sitting on a hospital bed, holding a newborn wrapped in a white blanket.
The woman's face was pale and tired.
But Claire recognized her immediately.
Isabella.
Margaret touched the photograph with trembling fingers.
“I was told she died before the baby was born.”
Claire felt a deep ache in her chest.
“Who told you?”
“Anthony's attorney. He said Isabella had made arrangements for the child before the accident. He said I would be contacted when it was appropriate.”
“And nobody contacted you.”
“No.”
Margaret's eyes filled with tears.
“I spent six years believing my daughter was dead and never knowing I had a granddaughter.”
Claire took her hand.
“I'm so sorry.”
For a moment, they sat together without speaking.
Then Margaret asked the question Claire had been expecting.
“Do you think Isabella is alive?”
“I don't know.”
“But you think it's possible.”
“Yes.”
Margaret nodded slowly.
“I don't know what I'll do if she is. I don't know what I'll say to her.”
“You don't have to decide that today.”
Margaret looked at Claire.
“You're pregnant, aren't you?”
Claire went still.
The older woman immediately raised her hands.
“I'm sorry. I shouldn't have asked.”
“How did you know?”
“Your attorney mentioned that your medical privacy was important. I didn't mean to pry. I just saw the way you held your stomach when you looked at the photograph.”
Claire glanced down at her hand.
She had not realized she was doing it.
“Yes,” she said quietly. “I'm pregnant.”
Margaret's expression softened.
“Then you understand something I didn't understand when Isabella was young. You can love your child with every part of yourself and still be unable to control the world around them.”
Claire swallowed.
“I'm trying to learn that.”
“Don't let this family's secrets steal the joy of your child.”
The words stayed with Claire long after Margaret left.
That night, she attended a prenatal appointment and heard the baby's heartbeat again. The doctor said the pregnancy was progressing well. Claire left the clinic with a new ultrasound image and a feeling of cautious hope.
Back at the apartment, she found an email from Rachel Dunn.
The investigators had located a witness who claimed Isabella survived the crash and was taken away by a private ambulance before police arrived.
The witness was willing to provide a formal statement.
There was no confirmation of Isabella's current whereabouts.
But the official story was now in serious doubt.
Claire read the email twice.
Then she looked at the photograph of Isabella holding the newborn.
May you like
If Isabella had survived, someone had spent six years keeping her hidden.
And if Sophia was her daughter, the woman Vincent had treated as a substitute for his lost love might have been the very child Isabella had been trying to protect.
