Chapter 9 - THE TRUTH IN THE WALL
The woman was named Rachel.
She had been working for Daniel.
At least, that's what everyone thought.
In reality, she had been his assistant.
For six months.
She knew about the files.
The surveillance.
The forged documents.
The women.
And she had been trying to leave.
Daniel wouldn't let her.
She told detectives he had threatened her family.
She said he kept copies of private medical records.
He had information on everyone.
Doctors.
Attorneys.
Social workers.
Former wives.
Friends.
Anyone who could affect his plans.
Then Rachel told us about the wall.
"There is a hidden compartment."
"Where?"
"In his office."
The detective searched.
Nothing.
Rachel pointed toward a bookshelf.
"Behind that."
They moved it.
Nothing.
Then she said:
"Third panel."
The detective pressed it.
A section of the wall opened.
Inside were dozens of folders.
And a small safe.
The safe contained cash.
Passports.
Birth certificates.
And photographs.
Some were of me.
Some were of Emily.
Some were of women I had never seen.
Then the detective found a list.
Seven names.
Eight names.
Nine.
At the bottom was a blank line.
Next to it:
Next candidate.
I stared at it.
"Who was the next candidate?"
Rachel looked at me.
"You."
"I was already on the list."
"No."
She shook her head.
"You were number nine."
I felt sick.
"Then who was number ten?"
Rachel didn't answer.
The detective looked at her.
"Tell her."
Rachel swallowed.
"Your sister."
My heart stopped.
"My sister doesn't even live here."
"Exactly."
Daniel had been planning to use her as leverage.
He had intended to threaten her with fabricated evidence.
I couldn't understand how far his reach went.
Then Rachel gave us the final piece.
"There was one thing he was terrified of."
"What?"
"Money."
I frowned.
"Daniel has money."
Rachel shook her head.
"Not enough."
She explained that Daniel had been using women as part of a financial scheme.
He would isolate them.
Pressure them.
Create legal problems.
Then force settlements.
In some cases, he had convinced families to pay him to avoid custody battles.
In others, he had used fraudulent guardianship arrangements.
The babies were part of the leverage.
I felt nauseous.
"My daughter..."
Rachel nodded.
"Your daughter was worth more to him than you realize."
"Why?"
"Because someone offered him money."
"Who?"
Rachel looked toward the detective.
"I don't know."
Then she said:
"But I know where the payment records are."
She pulled a tiny key from her pocket.
"The safe deposit box."
The detective took it.
"Which bank?"
Rachel whispered the name.
The detective's expression changed.
"That's a federal institution."
"Exactly."
They obtained a warrant.
Inside the box they found contracts.
Bank transfers.
And a document that made the entire case explode.
It wasn't a guardianship agreement.
It was a purchase agreement.
For my daughter.
The buyer's name was hidden behind a company.
But the company had an owner.
A person I knew.
Someone who had visited our home.
Someone who had held my baby.
Someone who had told me:
"You're lucky to have Daniel."
I stared at the name.
My hands went numb.
"No."
Emily looked at me.
"Who?"
I whispered:
"My mother-in-law."
The room went silent.
Daniel's mother had been part of it.
She had helped create the story.
She had told everyone I was unstable.
She had repeatedly insisted that the baby would be safer with family.
She had even offered to take my daughter "temporarily."
I suddenly remembered the night she came into the nursery.
She had stood over my baby's crib.
She had whispered:
"One day, she'll be mine."
I thought she meant it affectionately.
Now I understood.
It wasn't a grandmother's comment.
It was a promise.
Then the detective found another document.
A transfer scheduled for the following week.
The amount was enormous.
And the recipient wasn't Daniel.
It was my mother-in-law.
The detective looked at me.
"We need to find her."
My phone suddenly rang.
Unknown number.
I answered.
Nobody spoke.
Then a woman's voice whispered:
"You should have taken the deal."
I froze.
"Who is this?"
A pause.
Then:
"Your mother-in-law."
The call ended.
Seconds later, another message arrived.
A photograph.
My daughter sleeping in her crib.
Taken from outside the house.
Under it were five words:
May you like
You haven't won yet.
---
