Chapter 17 - The Greatest Theft
My mother looked up at me, her face pale and streaked with tears.
“The night you went into labor,” my mother said, her voice shaking violently, “I arrived at the rural clinic late due to the storm. When I finally got to your room, Natalie was already sitting in the chair, holding your baby boy. She looked up at me with wild eyes and told me he was hers. She said God had taken her baby and given him back through you.”
My mother pressed her trembling lips together, struggling to breathe.
“And I…” her voice broke into a wretched sob. “I saw how alone you were on that bed, sweetheart. How young, how broken, and how poor. I thought he would have a much better life with her. With a father. With a stable home. I convinced myself it was the best thing for everyone.”
The room spun. For twelve years, my own mother had watched me grieve, watched me cry on the anniversary of my son's "death," while knowing he was alive and sleeping two blocks away.
“The best thing for everyone, Mom?” I whispered, the betrayal slicing through my soul. “For everyone?”
I returned to Natalie’s house one last time. Not to ask questions, but to declare war.
“You lost a baby,” I told her coldly. “And I am truly sorry for that pain. But the child you took in that hospital room was mine.”
The victim mask she had worn since the party finally fell away, revealing the monster underneath.
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“You were going to dump him in daycare so you could leave on military deployments!” she shot back, her face red. “I sang to him every night! I am his mother!”
“You stole him,” I said, my voice like ice.
