Chapter 2 - Paperwork and Lies
The silence in the patient pickup lane felt thick enough to suffocate us. The social worker, Ms. Reynolds, held a thick blue Manila folder against her chest. Her eyes darted from Eric’s pale face to Lauren, who was subtly shifting her weight toward the driver's door of the Explorer.
“Nobody is going anywhere,” the lead security officer said, stepping between Lauren’s SUV and the exit lane.
“Natalie, let’s just go back inside and talk about this privately,” Eric pleaded, taking a cautious step toward me. His hands were raised in a placating gesture, but his eyes were darting around, calculating his exits.
“Do not touch me,” I said, my voice dangerously steady as I clutched Sophie tighter against my hospital gown. “Ms. Reynolds, what did you discuss with my husband yesterday while I was in recovery?”
Ms. Reynolds adjusted her glasses, her expression turning from professional concern to deep outrage. “Yesterday afternoon, Mr. Brooks came to my office with Miss Hayes. They presented paperwork requesting an expedited transfer of temporary custody for your newborn.”
A cold bolt of shock shot through my spine, sharper than the pain of my C-section. “Custody? On what grounds?”
“They presented notarized affidavits claiming you were experiencing severe postpartum psychosis,” Ms. Reynolds explained, looking directly at Eric. “They provided medical history forms—allegedly signed by your primary doctor—stating you had a history of severe psychiatric breakdowns and had expressed an intent to harm yourself and the child.”
I looked at Eric. My throat locked up so tight I could barely breathe. “You told them... what?”
“It was for your protection, Natalie!” Eric blurted out, his posture shifting from defensive to aggressive. “Look at you! You’re unstable! You’re screaming in the parking lot! You haven't been in your right mind since the third trimester!”
“He brought medical forms?” I asked Ms. Reynolds, ignoring Eric’s outburst.
“Yes,” Ms. Reynolds replied. “However, when I cross-referenced the signature on those affidavits with your attending obstetrician, Dr. Vance, Dr. Vance explicitly denied signing any such evaluation. I informed Mr. Brooks yesterday at 4:00 PM that the custody request was flatly denied, and that any attempt to remove the child without your explicit consent would be treated as an abduction.”
I stared at Lauren Hayes. The woman I had hosted at our dinner parties. The woman who had brought me organic tea when I was sick during my second trimester.
“You dressed up in fake scrubs to steal my baby,” I whispered.
Lauren’s lips curled into a bitter sneer. “You don't deserve her, Natalie. You’re weak. You spent the entire pregnancy complaining while Eric did all the work. We built a home for her. A real home.”
“A real home?” I stepped closer to her, despite Nurse Brenda’s gentle hand on my shoulder trying to keep me steady. “With my husband? In the house I bought with my inheritance?”
“That’s enough!” Eric snapped, turning to the security guards. “This is a domestic dispute! She’s my legal wife, and that is my legal daughter! I have a right to take my child home!”
“You have no right to transport a child under fraudulent medical pretenses, sir,” the lead security guard said, placing a heavy hand on Eric’s shoulder. “Hospital security is detaining both of you until the LAPD arrives.”
Lauren’s eyes widened with genuine terror. “LAPD? Eric, you said you had the judge on retainer! You said this was taken care of!”
“Shut up, Lauren!” Eric yelled, turning on her.
The illusion was crumbling right in front of me. The sleek, powerful attorney and his polished mistress were turning into cornered animals in a hospital parking lot.
Ms. Reynolds turned to Nurse Brenda. “Get Mrs. Brooks and the baby back upstairs to the secure maternity ward immediately. Double-lock the floor access.”
As Nurse Brenda guided my wheelchair back toward the automatic glass doors, I looked back over my shoulder. Eric was arguing frantically with the security officers, while Lauren was furiously typing on her phone, her hands shaking.
My phone buzzed in my coat pocket. It was a text notification from my personal bank app.
Alert: Transfer of $450,000 from Primary Savings Account initiated by Authorized User: Eric Brooks.
My breath caught in my throat. The affair, the fake medical forms, the scrubs, the car seat—it wasn't just about taking Sophie. Eric was cleaning out our life, wiping out every trace of me before I even had the chance to leave the hospital floor.
May you like
I gripped my baby tight, looking at the screen of my phone.
“You picked the wrong mother, Eric,” I whispered into the quiet air of the elevator.
