Chapter 9: The Fourth Birth Record
Vincent didn't speak for several seconds after the call ended.
Then he looked at Margaret.
"Can you come with me?""
Margaret closed her folder.
"Where?""
"Chicago. Someone accessed my mother's private family registry.""
Marcus stood.
"I know where that registry is.""
Vincent turned.
"How?""
Marcus reached into his backpack and removed a small brass key.
"My adoptive mother gave me this before she died. She said it belonged to my biological grandmother.""
Vincent stared at the key.
"Isabella?""
Marcus nodded.
"She told me never to use it unless I wanted to know why my birth mother gave me away.""
Vincent slowly took the key.
For the first time, I saw genuine fear in his expression.
"Where did you get this?""
"From the adoption records.""
Marcus looked at Sophia.
"Your mother gave it to my adoptive family.""
Sophia's face had gone completely white.
"That's impossible.""
Marcus smiled without humor.
"That's becoming your favorite word.""
We traveled to Chicago that evening.
The Moretti estate was silent when we arrived.
A private security guard opened the front entrance.
Vincent led us through a corridor lined with family portraits.
At the end was a large wooden door.
His mother's private study.
He inserted the brass key.
The lock turned.
Inside, everything was covered with white sheets.
The room smelled of old wood and lavender.
A desk stood beside the window.
On it was a photograph of Isabella Moretti holding Vincent as a child.
Vincent stared at it.
"She used to tell me that family was the only thing money couldn't replace.""
Marcus looked around.
"She must have known something.""
Vincent opened the desk drawers.
The first contained old correspondence.
The second contained financial records.
The third was locked.
He used a small key from his mother's desk.
Inside was a black leather folder.
A label was attached.
*PRIVATE FAMILY REGISTRY — DO NOT DUPLICATE.*
Margaret placed the folder on the desk.
"Let's be careful.""
Vincent opened it.
The first pages contained birth records and marriage certificates.
Then came a section marked CONFIDENTIAL DESCENDANTS.
Four names were listed.
Noah Bennett.
Lily Brooks.
Marcus Reynolds.
Ethan Moretti.
Vincent nodded slowly.
"Those are the four of you.""
Noah studied the page.
"Then why was Daniel talking about a fourth birth record?""
Vincent turned to the next page.
A fifth name appeared.
A name nobody recognized.
*Grace Moretti.*
Date of birth: November 3, 2008.
Mother: Isabella Moretti.
Father: Unknown.
I stared at the date.
"Vincent, your mother was nearly seventy.""
He looked at the document.
"Yes.""
Margaret examined the attached medical certificate.
"This appears to be an adoption record.""
Vincent turned the page.
A handwritten note appeared.
*The child is to be placed with the designated guardian. No biological family notification is permitted without written consent.*
Noah looked up.
"Who was the guardian?""
Vincent turned to the final page.
The answer was written in black ink.
*Sophia Reynolds.*
Sophia, who had followed us into the room, let out a small sound.
Vincent turned.
"Explain.""
She shook her head.
"I don't know what that is.""
Marcus laughed.
"Really? Because your name is right there.""
Sophia took a step toward the desk.
"That document is old. It could be anything.""
Vincent held it up.
"Grace Moretti. Who is she?""
Sophia looked at him.
Then she looked at Ethan.
And something in her expression changed.
Ethan noticed.
"Mom?""
She shook her head.
"Please.""
Vincent stepped closer.
"Who is Grace?""
Sophia began to cry.
"I was told she died.""
Margaret looked up.
"Who told you?""
Sophia wiped her face.
"Isabella.""
Vincent stared.
"My mother?""
Sophia nodded.
"She told me the baby had been born with complications. She asked me to arrange a private placement.""
"Why you?""
"Because she trusted me.""
Vincent laughed bitterly.
"She trusted you?""
Sophia looked down.
"She believed you would never accept a child born outside your family line.""
Vincent's voice dropped.
"Who was the father?""
Sophia shook her head.
"I don't know.""
"Where is she?""
"I don't know.""
Marcus walked toward the desk.
"You're lying.""
Sophia looked at him.
"Don't.""
He removed a document from the folder.
It was a transfer record.
Grace had been placed with a family in Connecticut.
The adoptive parents were listed as Thomas and Rebecca Walsh.
And beneath their names was an address.
Noah leaned closer.
"She's alive.""
Margaret checked the date.
"The adoption was finalized. There's no death record attached.""
Vincent looked at Sophia.
"You told me she died.""
Sophia shook her head.
"Isabella told me that.""
"Then why is your name on the guardianship authorization?""
Sophia couldn't answer.
The next morning, we drove to Connecticut.
Vincent insisted on coming.
Noah sat beside me.
Lily and Marcus followed in another car with Margaret.
Ethan came too.
He had barely spoken to Sophia since the previous night.
The address led to a quiet suburban neighborhood.
A white house stood at the end of a tree-lined street.
A small American flag hung beside the front door.
Vincent knocked.
A woman in her late fifties answered.
"Can I help you?""
Vincent held up the document.
"I'm looking for Grace Walsh.""
The woman's expression changed.
"Who are you?""
"My name is Vincent Moretti.""
She stared.
Then she slowly opened the door wider.
"Please come in.""
The living room was filled with photographs.
A young woman appeared in almost every one.
At graduation.
On a beach.
Beside a Christmas tree.
Holding a golden retriever.
A young woman with dark hair and gray eyes.
Grace.
Rebecca Walsh brought us coffee.
"Grace is at college," she said.
"She'll be home this afternoon.""
Vincent looked around.
"Did you know she was adopted?""
Rebecca nodded.
"She has always known.""
"Did you know her biological family?""
Rebecca hesitated.
"We were told her birth mother had passed away. We were also told that contacting the Moretti family would be harmful.""
Vincent closed his eyes.
"Who told you that?""
"A woman from a private legal office. Sophia Reynolds.""
I looked at Vincent.
He didn't move.
Rebecca continued.
"She said the child's biological father was emotionally unstable and had no interest in raising her.""
Vincent gripped his cup.
"That was a lie.""
Rebecca nodded.
"I know that now.""
She stood and walked toward a cabinet.
Inside was a small box.
She placed it on the table.
"Grace's adoption papers included a letter from her biological grandmother.""
Vincent opened it.
The handwriting was unmistakable.
His mother's.
*To the family who gives this child a home,*
*Please understand that Grace is loved. Her birth circumstances are complicated, and I have made decisions that I hope she will one day understand.*
*Do not let her believe she was unwanted.*
Vincent stopped reading.
His eyes filled.
For the first time, he seemed to understand that the lies had started long before his divorce.
His own mother had been involved.
But why?
At four thirty, the front door opened.
A young woman entered carrying a backpack.
She stopped when she saw the strangers.
"Mom?""
Rebecca stood.
"Grace, sweetheart. There's something you need to know.""
Grace looked at Vincent.
Then at Noah.
Then at the others.
"What's going on?""
Rebecca took her hand.
"This man is your biological father.""
Grace stared.
Then she laughed nervously.
"That's not funny.""
Vincent stood.
"It's true.""
She looked at the document.
Her eyes moved across the names.
"Vincent Moretti?""
He nodded.
Grace took a step backward.
"No.""
He reached into his coat and removed the photograph of Isabella holding him as a child.
"This is my mother.""
Grace stared at the photograph.
Then she looked at him.
"Why didn't you come?""
Vincent swallowed.
"I didn't know.""
She shook her head.
"That's what everyone says.""
Her voice began to crack.
"My whole life, people told me my birth family couldn't take care of me. That I was better off without them. That nobody wanted to meet me.""
Vincent lowered his head.
"I am sorry.""
Grace looked at Noah.
"Are you my brother?""
Noah nodded.
"Yes.""
She looked at Lily.
"And you?""
Lily gave her a small smile.
"Apparently.""
Grace started crying.
Then she looked at Ethan.
"How many of us are there?""
Ethan laughed softly.
"At this point, I'm afraid to count.""
For the first time, everyone smiled.
But the moment didn't last.
Grace suddenly turned toward Vincent.
"There's something else.""
He looked at her.
"What?""
She reached into her backpack and removed a small notebook.
"My grandmother gave me this before she died.""
Vincent recognized Isabella's handwriting.
Grace opened it.
"She told me to read the last page if I ever met my biological father.""
She turned to the back.
A handwritten note appeared.
*Vincent, if you are reading this, then the children have finally found one another. I am sorry for what I did. But I need you to know that Sophia was not acting alone.*
Vincent looked up.
Grace continued.
"There's a name.""
She placed her finger beneath the sentence.
*The person who ordered the original separation was not Sophia Reynolds. It was Daniel Price's father, Arthur Price.*
Vincent froze.
"Arthur?""
Grace nodded.
"My grandmother said he controlled the family's legal affairs before you took over the company.""
Vincent stared at the page.
"Arthur died twenty years ago.""
Grace turned the notebook over.
"There was another sentence.""
She read it aloud.
*He left instructions that were to be carried out even after his death. The instructions named one person to protect the Moretti inheritance at all costs.*
Vincent's face became rigid.
"Who?""
Grace looked down.
Then she answered.
"Your mother.""
The room went silent.
I watched Vincent struggle to process the revelation.
His mother had arranged Grace's adoption.
She had authorized the secret family registry.
She had apparently been involved in the original separation plan.
And now a dead man's instructions were pointing back to her.
But there was something else.
Margaret had been studying the notebook.
She suddenly turned several pages backward.
"Vincent.""
He looked at her.
"What?""
"Your mother's final instructions were written in 2015.""
He nodded.
"Yes.""
Margaret pointed to a paragraph.
"She mentions a meeting with Daniel Price.""
Vincent leaned closer.
The note read:
*Daniel has assured me that the original trust remains intact. The children will inherit equally when the youngest reaches eighteen. No exceptions. No amendments.*
Noah looked up.
"Then why was Sophia trying to change it?""
Margaret turned the page.
There was a final handwritten sentence.
*If Sophia discovers the trust's final beneficiary, she will do anything to prevent the eighteenth birthday from arriving.*
I felt my blood turn cold.
Grace had turned eighteen three days earlier.
Lily was eighteen.
Noah was eighteen.
And Marcus was nineteen.
Ethan was eighteen.
The original trust had just become active.
Vincent picked up his phone.
"Daniel.""
The call went straight to voicemail.
He tried again.
Nothing.
Then his phone buzzed.
A message from an unknown number.
*The original trust has already been transferred. If you want to know who owns your company now, check the public registry.*
Vincent opened his laptop.
His face changed as the page loaded.
The Moretti family trust had been dissolved.
Its assets had been transferred into a private holding company.
The new owner was listed as:
*Arthur Price Family Foundation.*
Vincent stared at the screen.
His father's old legal adviser had been dead for twenty years.
But someone had used his name to take control of the empire.
And the person authorized to manage the foundation was Daniel Price.
That night, Vincent called an emergency meeting with the board.
The directors gathered in the executive conference room.
Daniel's chair remained empty.
Vincent stood at the head of the table.
"The family trust has been transferred without my consent.""
One director cleared his throat.
"Mr. Moretti, the transfer appears to have been legally executed.""
"By whom?""
"The trustee listed in the registry.""
"Daniel Price.""
The director nodded.
Vincent looked around.
"Where is he?""
Nobody answered.
Then the conference room doors opened.
Daniel walked in.
He was carrying a black folder.
"Good evening.""
Vincent stared at him.
"You're under investigation.""
Daniel smiled faintly.
"By whom?""
"Me.""
Daniel placed the folder on the table.
"Then I suppose you should review this first.""
Vincent opened it.
Inside was a notarized document.
His mother's signature.
The date was eighteen years earlier.
The heading read:
*IRREVOCABLE SUCCESSION DIRECTIVE.*
Vincent's face went white.
Daniel leaned forward.
"Your mother didn't leave the inheritance to you, Vincent.""
He paused.
"She left it to the children.""
Vincent looked at the document.
"And who controls it?""
Daniel smiled.
"Not you.""
He turned toward the board.
"Effective immediately, the four biological children and the designated fifth beneficiary have voting rights.""
Vincent frowned.
"Fifth beneficiary?""
Daniel slid another paper across the table.
A name appeared.
*Claire Bennett.*
I was listed as a beneficiary of the Moretti family trust.
Not because of the divorce.
Not because of the settlement.
But because Isabella Moretti had secretly included me in the original inheritance arrangement.
Vincent looked at the document.
Then at Daniel.
"Why?""
Daniel's smile disappeared.
"Because your mother knew you would eventually need the one person who had never wanted your money.""
And just as the board members began arguing, a security officer entered the room.
"Mr. Price, there's someone here to see you.""
Daniel looked toward the door.
His face changed.
A woman stepped inside.
She was in her seventies, dressed in a dark coat, holding a cane.
Vincent stared at her.
"Margaret?""
My attorney looked equally shocked.
The woman smiled.
"Hello, Vincent.""
She placed a sealed envelope on the table.
"Your mother asked me to deliver this when all the children were reunited.""
Vincent slowly opened it.
Inside was a single photograph.
It showed Isabella Moretti standing beside a young woman.
A woman I recognized.
My mother.
And beneath the photograph was a message.
*Claire knows why I chose her. Ask her what her father did in 1988.*
I stared at the photograph.
Because I had never told Vincent that my father had once worked for the Moretti family.
And I had never told anyone what happened the night he disappeared.
May you like
But Isabella Moretti had known.
And apparently, she had been waiting eighteen years for me to remember.
