Chapter 6 - The Daughter Nobody Knew Existed
Richard read the hospital bracelet until the letters blurred.
The date.
The surname.
The tiny pink jacket.
He remembered the last months of Caroline's life.
She had been nauseated often.
Tired.
Emotional.
He'd assumed it was stress.
She had stopped drinking wine.
She had complained of headaches.
He'd told her to take time off.
He had never considered pregnancy.
"Are you telling me I have a daughter?"
Brooks answered carefully.
"I'm telling you the evidence suggests a child connected to your family was transported in that vehicle."
Richard gripped the edge of the table.
"Three years."
He laughed bitterly.
"I have a daughter who's been alive for three years."
"Richard, we need to confirm that."
He looked at her.
"If she's mine, where has she been?"
Brooks had no answer.
That frightened him more than anything.
Oliver was sitting at a small table when Richard returned.
A nurse had given him crayons and paper.
He was drawing a house.
A little boy.
A tall man.
And a woman with long brown hair.
Richard sat beside him.
"Who's that?"
"Mommy."
Richard pointed to the smaller figure beside her.
"Who's this?"
Oliver shrugged.
"A baby."
Richard felt his heart stop.
"Why did you draw a baby?"
Oliver looked at him.
"Because Mommy had one."
Richard stared.
"What?"
The boy kept coloring.
"The lady told me."
"What lady?"
"The lady from the basement."
Richard moved closer.
"Oliver, did you see a baby?"
"No."
"Did you hear one?"
The boy nodded.
"Sometimes."
Richard swallowed.
"What did you hear?"
"Crying."
"Where?"
"Behind Mommy's door."
Richard closed his eyes.
He had walked through that wine cellar dozens of times.
Hosted parties above it.
Stored expensive bottles beside it.
While his wife had apparently been imprisoned somewhere beyond the shelves.
And their daughter had been hidden from him.
"Did the lady tell you the baby's name?"
Oliver looked thoughtful.
"Maybe."
"Try to remember."
The boy whispered.
"Hope."
Richard's eyes filled.
Hope.
Caroline had wanted that name if they ever had a daughter.
They had discussed it while waiting for Oliver to be born.
Caroline had laughed when Richard suggested naming their first child after his father.
"Absolutely not. One stubborn Blackwood is enough."
He had smiled.
"What about a girl?"
Caroline had rested her hand on her stomach.
"Hope."
"Why Hope?"
"Because that's what children give us."
Richard pressed his fingers against his eyes.
He could hear her voice.
Almost feel her hand.
Brooks returned twenty minutes later.
"We identified the vehicle's route."
Richard stood.
"Where did it go?"
"From your estate to a private dock outside Gloucester."
"Then?"
"A small medical transport vessel left around four in the morning."
"Destination?"
"We're still determining that."
Richard looked at the bracelet.
"Check private clinics on the coast."
"We are."
"And Andrew's offshore properties."
"We're doing that too."
Richard turned toward the window.
A thought struck him.
"Andrew hates boats."
Brooks frowned.
"What?"
"He gets seasick."
"Richard—"
"He wouldn't use a boat unless he had to."
"Or unless it helped him avoid cameras."
Richard nodded.
"Exactly."
He returned to the table and opened his laptop.
The Blackwood corporation owned dozens of properties.
Warehouses.
Commercial buildings.
Private retreats.
One property had been transferred out of the company portfolio two years earlier.
A rehabilitation center on a small island.
Registered under a charitable foundation.
Richard stared at the name.
Saint Anne's Recovery Institute.
He remembered approving the acquisition.
Andrew had described it as a philanthropic investment.
A place for women recovering from domestic abuse and severe trauma.
Richard had signed without visiting.
He brought up the ownership documents.
A private trust controlled the property.
Its registered manager was Dr. Natalie Price.
Richard called Brooks over.
"Found it."
She read the page.
Then immediately called her team.
Within minutes, officers began coordinating with coastal authorities.
But Richard kept staring at the ownership date.
Saint Anne's had been acquired six weeks after Caroline's disappearance.
The same week his daughter was supposedly born.
The same week Andrew had told him to stop grieving and focus on the company.
His phone buzzed.
Another unknown message.
This time it contained a short video.
A little girl sat on a bed holding a stuffed rabbit.
Dark curls framed her face.
She couldn't have been older than three.
"Say hello," a woman instructed from behind the camera.
The little girl looked into the lens.
"Hi, Daddy."
Richard's breath stopped.
The woman continued.
"Tell Daddy what you want."
The child hugged her rabbit.
"Come get Mommy."
Richard covered his mouth.
Then another voice entered the recording.
Victoria.
"That's enough."
The camera shifted.
Victoria stood beside the doorway.
She looked directly into the lens.
"Richard, if you want your daughter to live, you will stop working with the police."
A pause.
Then she added:
"And you will remember something."
Her expression hardened.
"Caroline wasn't the only person who signed away a child."
The video ended.
Richard stood motionless.
Brooks watched his face.
"What did she mean?"
Richard didn't answer.
Because suddenly he remembered a document he'd signed seven years earlier.
A document Andrew had brought him at the hospital.
A document he had never read carefully.
May you like
It had concerned Oliver.
And it had been signed on the day his son was born.
