Chapter 8: They Wanted to Become My Daughter's Guardians
I read the application three times.
Marcus Hale.
Vivian Cross.
Proposed temporary guardians.
My hands began to shake.
"They want Vivian to raise my daughter?""
Eleanor took the document from Richard.
"Not without a legal basis.""
Richard examined the pages.
"This appears to be a draft application. It hasn't been approved by a court.""
"But why would they even file something like this?"" I asked.
Richard turned another page.
"The application alleges that you have experienced emotional instability during pregnancy and that you are unable to provide a stable environment.""
I stared at him.
"That's a lie.""
"I understand.""
"It says I have been hospitalized for psychiatric evaluation?""
Richard nodded.
"Yes.""
I looked at Eleanor.
"I have never been hospitalized for anything like that.""
Eleanor's jaw tightened.
"Someone is manufacturing a record.""
Richard pointed to a paragraph.
"They are also claiming that the marital home is unsafe because of unresolved domestic conflict.""
I remembered the argument Marcus had started two months earlier.
He had deliberately broken a glass during dinner and then told me I was becoming unpredictable.
At the time, I thought he was simply angry.
Now I wondered whether he had been creating evidence.
I looked at the application again.
There was a section describing Vivian as a long-term caregiver who had an established emotional relationship with the child.
I almost couldn't breathe.
"She has never even held my daughter.""
Eleanor put the papers down.
"Then we'll make sure the court knows that.""
Richard called the family's litigation attorney.
Within minutes, he had arranged an emergency review of the application and requested copies of every supporting document.
But one detail bothered him.
"The petition references a psychological assessment.""
"Who conducted it?"" Eleanor asked.
Richard read the name.
"Dr. Rebecca Sloan.""
I frowned.
"I don't know that doctor.""
Neither did Eleanor.
Richard searched the hospital records attached to the filing.
Then he looked up.
"That's interesting.""
"What?""
"Dr. Sloan is listed as having examined Natalie at a private clinic three weeks ago.""
I shook my head.
"I have never been to that clinic.""
Richard leaned back.
"Then we need to establish how this assessment was created.""
My phone vibrated.
An unknown number.
You should stop fighting. Marcus has enough evidence to prove you're unstable.
I showed Eleanor.
She took a screenshot.
"Save everything.""
A second message arrived.
Vivian already has the nursery plans. You should have thought about that before making enemies.
I felt sick.
The nursery.
Marcus and I had spent weeks preparing it.
We had painted the walls a soft cream color, assembled the crib, and folded tiny clothes into drawers.
He had insisted on choosing the rocking chair.
He had even placed a small wooden sign above the crib with our daughter's name.
Now I wondered whether he had ever imagined sitting in that room with me.
Or whether he had already pictured Vivian there.
I called my sister, Claire.
She answered immediately.
"Natalie? What's wrong?""
I struggled to speak.
"Claire, I need you to come to Eleanor's house.""
"What happened?""
I told her everything.
There was a long silence.
Then she said, "I'm coming. And I'm bringing your things.""
I hadn't realized how badly I needed to hear her voice until then.
That afternoon, Richard received the first response from the clinic.
The psychological assessment had been submitted electronically.
But the clinic's director confirmed that no appointment had taken place under my name.
Someone had used a copied identification document to create the patient profile.
The report contained statements I had supposedly made.
One claimed I had expressed a desire to disappear and leave the baby behind.
Another suggested I was experiencing severe emotional instability.
I felt tears slide down my cheeks.
"They're trying to make everyone think I'm a bad mother.""
Eleanor sat beside me.
"No, sweetheart. They're trying to create a reason to take control. That doesn't make it true.""
Richard photographed the documents and sent them to the attorney.
Then he made another discovery.
The clinic profile had been created using an email address associated with Vivian's consulting company.
Eleanor stood.
"That's enough.""
She called Vivian.
The call went to voicemail.
Eleanor left a message.
"Vivian, I know about the guardianship application. I know about the false assessment. You will not use this child to protect yourself from the consequences of your actions.""
She ended the call.
For several minutes, we heard nothing.
Then Claire arrived.
She rushed into the room and wrapped her arms around me.
When she saw my cheek, her eyes filled with anger.
"Did Marcus do this?""
"Vivian.""
Claire's expression changed.
"That woman?""
I nodded.
Claire sat beside me and held my hand.
"You are not going through this alone.""
For the first time in days, I felt something resembling safety.
But it didn't last.
At 6:42 p.m., Richard received an email from the bank's investigation department.
He opened it.
Then he slowly removed his glasses.
"What is it?"" Eleanor asked.
"The financial investigation has identified a payment to a private medical transportation company.""
My stomach tightened.
"Why would they pay a transportation company?""
Richard turned the laptop toward Eleanor.
"The company was hired to provide transportation following the baby's delivery.""
Claire stood.
"That's not unusual if someone needs medical transport.""
Richard shook his head.
"Look at the destination.""
The document listed the hospital's maternity entrance as the pickup location.
The destination was not my home.
It was a private residential property outside the city.
I read the address.
I didn't recognize it.
Eleanor did.
Her face went completely pale.
"That's the Cross residence.""
Vivian's house.
Claire covered her mouth.
I felt as if the floor had disappeared beneath me.
"They planned to take my daughter there?""
Richard examined the invoice.
"The service was paid in advance.""
"Can they legally do that?"" Claire asked.
"No," Richard replied.
"Not without proper authorization and hospital approval.""
Eleanor grabbed her phone.
"I want hospital security informed immediately. I also want the transportation company contacted.""
Richard nodded.
Then he noticed something else on the invoice.
A handwritten instruction appeared beneath the booking details.
Use the secondary maternity entrance. Avoid the main lobby.
I couldn't stop shaking.
Why would anyone need to avoid the main lobby if everything was legitimate?
Eleanor called the hospital's security director.
She explained the situation and requested that the hospital preserve the transportation booking records.
When she finished, she looked at me.
"We need to move quickly.""
I swallowed.
"What if they try something before the baby is born?""
Eleanor took both my hands.
"Then they will discover that this family has people willing to stand between them and that child.""
A few minutes later, Richard's phone rang.
He listened without interrupting.
Then his expression changed.
"What do you mean the driver has already been contacted?""
He stood.
"Who contacted him?""
A pause.
"Did he provide a name?""
Richard closed his eyes.
May you like
When he finally spoke, his voice was almost a whisper.
"Marcus Hale.""
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