Chapter 3 - THE DOCTOR’S CONFESSION
Amelia dropped her slice of birthday cake.
The china plate shattered against the marble floor, the sharp crack echoing like a gunshot in the silent room. Icing and crumbs splattered across her expensive white shoes, but she didn’t look down. Her wide, terrified eyes were locked on Beatrice.
“No,” Victoria breathed, releasing Daniel’s arm. She stumbled forward, putting herself between Amelia and the matriarch. She wrapped her arms fiercely around the trembling twelve-year-old in the silk dress. “Don’t you dare say that. She is my daughter. I gave birth to her!”
Beatrice laughed. It was a dry, hollow sound that made the hair on Daniel’s arms stand up.
“You were heavily sedated, Victoria,” Beatrice sneered. “You were unconscious for nearly three days after the emergency C-section. You don’t know what happened in that delivery room.”
“You’re a monster,” Daniel growled, his face red with a fury he had never known. “You’re making this up to destroy my wife.”
“Am I?” Beatrice challenged, raising a perfectly arched eyebrow. “Look at Amelia, Daniel. Look at her bone structure. Her blonde hair. Her blue eyes. She looks absolutely nothing like you. Or Victoria. She is a Sterling. I paid a discreet adoption broker a fortune to procure a child of proper pedigree.”
Amelia buried her face in Victoria’s shoulder, sobbing uncontrollably. “Mommy, tell her she’s lying!”
“She is lying, baby, she’s lying,” Victoria cried, kissing the top of Amelia’s head, rocking her back and forth.
Lily stood by the doorway, her small hands clutching the broken straps of her backpack. For a moment, the poor girl from the streets looked at the rich girl in the silk dress, and a profound sadness crossed her face. They were both victims of the same cruel woman.
“Prove it,” Daniel demanded, stepping directly into his mother’s personal space. “If you bought Amelia, where are the papers? Where is the proof?”
“I destroyed the papers,” Beatrice said smoothly. “There is no proof. Amelia is a ward of the Blackwood estate, but she has no biological claim to a single dime of our fortune.”
“She’s lying,” a voice called out from the back of the room.
The crowd of wealthy guests parted.
An older man in a tailored tuxedo stepped forward. His hair was completely white, and his shoulders were stooped with age.
It was Dr. Evans.
He had been the Blackwood family’s private physician for over thirty years. He was the man who had delivered the baby twelve years ago.
Beatrice’s smug expression faltered. “Arthur,” she warned, her voice dropping to a low hiss. “Keep your mouth shut.”
Dr. Evans ignored her. He walked directly toward Daniel and Victoria. His hands were trembling, and there were tears in his aged eyes.
“I have carried this guilt for twelve years, Daniel,” Dr. Evans said, his voice thick with shame. “I couldn’t sleep. I couldn’t look you in the eye. I came to this party tonight to finally confess.”
“Confess what?” Daniel asked, his heart hammering in his chest.
Dr. Evans reached into the inner breast pocket of his tuxedo. He pulled out a worn, leather-bound logbook. It looked ancient, its pages yellowed with time.
“This is my personal medical ledger,” Dr. Evans said. “The real one. Not the forged one your mother paid me to file with the hospital.”
Beatrice lunged forward. “Give me that!”
But Daniel caught his mother’s wrist, gripping it so tightly she cried out in pain. He shoved her back, shielding the doctor. “Read it, Arthur. Read it right now.”
Dr. Evans opened the book. He turned to a page marked with a faded red ribbon.
“October 14th,” Dr. Evans read aloud. “Victoria Blackwood. Emergency Caesarean section.”
He looked up, meeting Victoria’s tear-filled eyes.
“Beatrice is lying to you, Victoria,” Dr. Evans said gently. “Amelia wasn’t bought from an agency. She wasn’t adopted.”
Victoria let out a breathless gasp. “I knew it. I knew she was mine.”
“But Beatrice wasn’t lying about taking the baby,” Dr. Evans continued, his voice trembling as he looked over at the barefoot girl standing by the door. “She took her.”
Daniel rubbed his temples, his mind spinning. “How is that possible? If Amelia is our biological daughter, and Lily is the stolen baby… who gave birth to Lily?”
Dr. Evans closed the ledger.
“Victoria did,” the doctor whispered.
The room fell so quiet you could hear the rain beginning to tap against the grand floor-to-ceiling windows.
Victoria stopped rocking Amelia. She stared at the doctor, the color completely draining from her face. “What are you saying?”
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Dr. Evans looked from Amelia in her white silk dress, to Lily in her muddy sneakers.
“You didn’t have one baby that night, Victoria,” Dr. Evans revealed, a tear slipping down his wrinkled cheek. “You had twins.”
