Chapter 6 - THE ADOPTION PAPERS
I read the text message three times, the words blurring together.
Signed by Arthur Bennett.
Answer one: My father wasn’t just a foster parent taking blackmail money. He had legally signed the paperwork regarding Anna’s placement. Open two: How could a factory worker sign official county placement papers?
I looked up at Judge Harrison, who was watching me with a smug, untouchable expression.
“You’re lying,” I said softly, stepping closer to him. “My father didn’t blackmail you.”
The judge’s smile faltered slightly.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he said smoothly.
“I just got a message from the county records office,” I said, holding up my phone. “My father’s signature is on the official placement order. Not as a foster parent. As the authorizing party.”
Helen Gable gasped, stepping back so quickly she nearly dropped her wine glass.
A reversal. My father wasn’t the villain Helen and the judge were making him out to be. They were using his memory as a scapegoat to cover up their own crimes.
“What is she talking about, William?” Helen demanded, her voice shrill.
“Shut up, Helen,” the judge hissed.
Sarah looked at me, her eyes wide. “Lucy, what does that mean?”
“It means my father didn’t steal the watch to blackmail the judge,” I said, the pieces rapidly locking into place. “My father found out the judge was Anna’s father. He found out Helen was taking bribes to hide her. My father didn’t take the money. He signed the papers to legally adopt Anna.”
I turned to Helen. “He pawned the watch to pay for the adoption lawyer, didn’t he? Because you were blocking the transfer.”
Helen’s face crumpled. She looked terrified, not of me, but of the judge.
“William,” Helen whispered. “You told me you destroyed the original adoption petition.”
“I did!” the judge snapped.
“No, you didn’t,” I said, bluffing with everything I had. “The county digitized the archives last week. Mark Davies has the original petition with my father’s signature. My parents were trying to adopt Anna legally to protect her from you.”
Tears welled in my eyes as the truth about my parents finally washed over me. My father hadn’t been a cold, greedy man. He had been a protector, working overtime at the mill, pawning a precious heirloom just to hire a lawyer to save a little girl from a corrupt system.
And my mother hadn’t reported him to the agency for abuse. She had gone to Helen Gable that morning to beg her to process the adoption.
“You couldn’t let them adopt her,” Sarah realized, glaring at the judge. “Because if it went to family court, a background check would have exposed you as the biological father.”
“So you took her away,” I said, my voice shaking with rage. “You ripped an eight-year-old girl out of the only loving home she had ever known, just to protect your election campaign.”
Judge Harrison straightened his tie, recovering his icy composure.
“It’s a fascinating theory, Lucy. But you still have no proof. A signature on a denied adoption petition proves nothing.”
“Maybe not,” Sarah said, her voice suddenly deadly calm. “But the letters will.”
The judge froze. “What letters?”
Sarah reached into her purse and pulled out a stack of faded, blue envelopes bound together with a rubber band.
“My mother kept a box under her bed until the day she died,” Sarah said. “She never let me open it. I brought it with me today in the car. While Lucy was in the pawn shop, I opened it.”
May you like
Sarah untied the rubber band.
“They are letters,” Sarah said, holding one up. “Written by my mother’s real father. Written to Helen Gable, detailing exactly how much he was paying her to keep my mother hidden, and explicitly ordering her to deny the Bennett adoption.”
