Chapter 16 - The Baby Swap|
The photograph was examined by a forensic specialist before sunrise.
The two babies had been born on the same night, at the same clinic, under separate patient numbers. One record listed a mother named Elizabeth Blackwood. The other listed a mother named Margaret Shaw.
Neither name matched the women who had raised the children whose identities appeared in the files.
Detective Ruiz placed the results on the table.
“Someone deliberately exchanged the labels.”
I stared at the photograph.
“Does that mean I'm not Daniel's daughter?”
“We can't conclude that yet,” she replied. “The records are compromised. We need DNA samples from the living relatives and the original laboratory data.”
Ethan leaned against the wall.
“Richard could have switched the records to create a false heir.”
“Or to hide the real one,” I said.
My mother sat beside me, pale and exhausted.
“Your father suspected the switch, but he couldn't prove it. He believed the safest thing was to raise you without telling you the truth.”
“Was I his biological daughter?”
She took my hand.
“He never doubted that you were his child in every way that mattered.”
“That isn't what I asked.”
Tears gathered in her eyes.
“I don't know, Claire.”
The answer hurt, but it was honest.
Vanessa arrived with a sealed envelope from the clinic. She had refused to return to her apartment after receiving the threatening letter, and Detective Ruiz had arranged for her to stay with a trusted friend.
Inside the envelope was a genetic screening report, but the results had been replaced with a page bearing Richard's signature.
The child must be protected from the mother.
Vanessa looked sick.
“Why would he write that?”
“Because he doesn't want you making decisions for your baby,” I said.
Ethan's jaw tightened.
“Richard thinks the child is a tool.”
“He thinks all of us are tools,” I replied.
Then the forensic specialist called.
The original genetic data had been recovered from a backup server. It showed that one sample belonged to Ethan, but the second sample had been collected from someone else.
Someone whose identity had been concealed.
The name attached to the hidden sample was not Vanessa's.
It was mine.
I stared at the report.
“That's impossible. I've never given a sample to that clinic.”
Ethan looked at me, confusion turning to alarm.
“Claire, did you ever have genetic testing after the miscarriage?”
“Yes, but only at my hospital.”
Ruiz picked up the report.
“Then someone transferred your sample without your consent.”
The room fell silent.
If the report was genuine, someone had used my DNA to determine the identity of Vanessa's unborn child.
And if the report was false, someone had gone to extraordinary lengths to make me believe the baby was connected to me.
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Either way, Richard was trying to tell us something.
The only question was whether he wanted us to discover the truth—or believe a lie.
