Chapter 5 - THE PAPERS THAT COULD STEAL MY CHILDREN
I had spent years believing that money could solve almost any problem.
That morning, I discovered how useless it was when the problem was a forged signature and a frightened mother.
“Find the attorney handling the application,” I told Ethan.
We were driving toward the office of a family-law specialist named Rachel Bennett.
She had represented several high-profile custody cases, but she had no connection to my organization.
That mattered.
I wanted someone who would tell me the truth.
Not someone who would tell me what a Moretti wanted to hear.
Rachel was waiting when we arrived.
She was in her late forties, with dark-rimmed glasses and the expression of a woman who had heard every possible excuse from wealthy fathers.
I explained the situation.
She listened without interrupting.
Then she placed both hands on her desk.
“First, Mr. Moretti, there is no legal mechanism by which a stranger can simply take two children tomorrow because someone submitted an adoption application.”
I exhaled.
“Then the paperwork is meaningless?”
“I didn't say that.”
She studied the copies Ethan had obtained.
“These documents appear to be part of a private placement attempt. But they're incomplete, and I see serious irregularities.”
“Such as?”
“The mother's signature doesn't match across pages. There's no reliable evidence of informed consent. And the father's information is marked unknown.”
I leaned forward.
“I'm their father.”
“Then we establish that legally.”
“I can do a DNA test today.”
“With Claire's cooperation, yes. But you need to understand something.”
“What?”
“Being biologically related to these children doesn't automatically entitle you to walk into their lives on your terms.”
I looked down.
“I know.”
“Do you?”
I met her eyes.
“I'm learning.”
Rachel nodded once.
“Good. Because the most important person in this situation isn't you.”
“Claire.”
“And the children.”
She contacted a colleague familiar with Illinois adoption procedures and advised us to preserve the suspicious records for investigators.
The urgent placement date was alarming, but Rachel emphasized that the documents alone did not establish a lawful transfer.
Whoever filed them might be attempting fraud.
Or attempting to frighten Claire into surrendering the twins.
Either possibility was unacceptable.
By noon, Ethan had found the name of the person who submitted the application.
Margaret Ellis.
The same woman who had collected two hundred thousand dollars from Adrian.
The same woman who supposedly represented Claire.
And the same woman whose business records connected to Rebecca Shaw's identity.
“Margaret Ellis doesn't appear to be a licensed attorney,” Ethan said.
“Then what is she?”
“A professional intermediary. She changes companies frequently. Some of her former clients have filed fraud complaints.”
“Where is she?”
“An apartment in River North.”
“Send the address to Rachel and the investigator she recommends.”
Ethan looked surprised.
“You don't want to go there yourself?”
“I want her arrested if she's committed a crime. I don't want her lawyer claiming I threatened her.”
For a moment, Ethan almost smiled.
“Claire would appreciate that.”
“Don't assume you know what Claire appreciates.”
His smile vanished.
I regretted my tone immediately.
“Sorry.”
He nodded.
Then my phone lit up.
An unknown number.
I answered.
“Vincent?”
Claire.
I stood so quickly my chair scraped the floor.
“I'm here.”
“Did you send someone to my apartment?”
“No.”
“Are you sure?”
“Yes.”
Her breathing was uneven.
“There's a black SUV outside. It's been there for an hour.”
I looked at Ethan.
He was already reaching for his phone.
“Claire, listen carefully. Are the children with you?”
“Yes.”
“Is your door locked?”
“Yes.”
“Stay inside. I'm calling the police.”
She went silent.
Then she whispered, “I thought you were doing this.”
The words hurt more than I wanted to admit.
“I know.”
A car door slammed on her end.
Claire gasped.
“Someone's coming upstairs.”
“Call 911. Now.”
I heard hurried footsteps.
A baby's cry.
Then the line disconnected.
I was halfway to the elevator before Ethan caught up.
“Boss, wait.”
“She's alone.”
“I know. But if this is a trap, they want you rushing in.”
“Then they're going to be disappointed.”
We reached the parking garage.
Ethan called the police and gave them Claire's address.
I called her again.
No answer.
Again.
Nothing.
By the time we reached her building, two patrol cars were parked outside.
An officer stopped me at the entrance.
“Sir, you can't go upstairs.”
“My wife and children are in that building.”
“Name?”
“Vincent Moretti.”
The officer's expression changed.
Not with recognition.
With caution.
“Wait here.”
I wanted to push past him.
Every instinct told me to take control.
Instead, I forced myself to remain still.
Five minutes passed.
Then ten.
Finally, Claire appeared in the lobby.
She carried Noah.
Emma was strapped against her chest in a soft carrier.
A police officer walked beside her.
Claire saw me.
Her face changed.
Not relief.
Not anger.
Shock.
“You came.”
I stepped toward her.
Then stopped.
Noah was staring at me.
His eyes were dark.
His hair was a mess.
He had one hand wrapped around the collar of Claire's sweater.
I had seen thousands of faces in my life.
I had never seen one that made me forget how to breathe.
“Are you all right?” I asked.
Claire nodded.
“The man left when I called the police. He said he was delivering legal documents.”
“Did he touch you?”
“No.”
“Did he threaten you?”
“He said I had until tomorrow to cooperate.”
My jaw tightened.
“With what?”
She looked down at Noah.
Then back at me.
“The adoption papers.”
I felt the world narrow.
“Claire, did you sign anything?”
“No.”
“Then no one can lawfully take them based on those papers.”
Her eyes filled.
“He said I wouldn't be able to prove that.”
Rachel arrived twenty minutes later.
She spoke privately with Claire while Ethan provided the police with the vehicle information.
I stood near the entrance, watching Noah through the glass.
Claire was trying to calm him.
He had begun crying.
Not loudly.
Just a tired, miserable little cry.
She shifted him against her shoulder.
Emma started fussing too.
Without thinking, I moved closer.
“Can I help?”
Claire looked at me.
Her expression was guarded.
Then she glanced at Emma.
“She likes being walked.”
I held out my hands.
Claire hesitated.
For one suspended moment, I thought she would refuse.
Then she carefully transferred Emma into my arms.
She was warm.
Small.
Heavier than I expected.
Her little fingers caught my shirt.
I stared at her.
“Hello, sweetheart.”
Emma looked up.
Her brown eyes searched my face.
Then she made a tiny, questioning sound.
I laughed.
It came out broken.
Claire watched silently.
I moved slowly through the lobby, rocking Emma the way I had seen Claire do.
Her crying stopped.
She rested her cheek against my chest.
And for the first time in fourteen months, I felt something other than anger or regret.
I felt needed.
Then Ethan approached.
His face was grim.
“Boss, we found the SUV.”
“Who owns it?”
“A company connected to Margaret Ellis.”
“Where did it go?”
“Straight to Vanessa's townhouse.”
Claire heard the name.
Her expression changed.
“Vanessa?”
Ethan nodded.
Claire clutched Noah tighter.
Then she said something that made both of us turn.
“Vincent, there's something I haven't told you.”
I looked at her.
“What?”
She swallowed.
“Vanessa wasn't the first person who asked me to give up the twins.”
My blood chilled.
“Who was?”
May you like
Claire looked toward Ethan.
“Your mother.”
