Chapter 3 - THE SECRET DANIEL HID
I stared at the message.
Again.
And again.
My hands shook.
Real father?
The words made no sense.
The baby was Daniel’s.
There was no question.
No doubt.
No secret.
Or at least…
That was what I believed.
I looked at my sleeping reflection in the hospital window.
Eight months pregnant.
Alone.
Broken.
I touched my stomach.
“Daddy loves you.”
I whispered.
But now a horrible thought entered my mind.
What if Daniel believed a lie?
What if someone had convinced him?
The next morning, Michael arrived.
He looked exhausted.
Like he hadn’t slept.
“You received a message.”
It wasn't a question.
I looked at him.
“How do you know?”
“Because I sent it.”
My eyes widened.
“Why?”
He sat down.
“Because you deserve the truth.”
I waited.
“Daniel has been different for months.”
“Different how?”
“He started meeting with lawyers.”
My stomach tightened.
“About what?”
Michael looked away.
“Your marriage.”
A cold feeling spread through me.
“He wanted a divorce?”
“No.”
Michael paused.
“He wanted control.”
I remembered the papers Evelyn had shown me.
Custody papers.
Inheritance papers.
A plan.
“They wanted my baby.”
Michael nodded.
“Yes.”
“Why?”
He was silent.
Then he said:
“Because Daniel’s father left behind a trust.”
I froze.
“What?”
“The first male heir gets control.”
I looked at him.
“And my baby…”
“Your son would inherit everything.”
The room became silent.
“So this was about money.”
Michael looked at me.
“It was always about money.”
Then he placed a folder on the table.
“I found this in Daniel’s office.”
I opened it.
Inside were documents.
Emails.
Photos.
And one name appeared again and again.
Evelyn Carter.
But then I saw something else.
A document signed by Daniel.
My heart stopped.
Because the date was from three months ago.
The exact week he claimed he still loved me.
The exact week he held me and promised everything would be okay.
The document said:
Termination of Anna Carter’s parental rights after childbirth.
I covered my mouth.
Michael looked away.
“I'm sorry.”
I turned the page.
And saw something worse.
A second signature.
Not Evelyn’s.
Not Daniel’s.
Mine.
But I had never signed it.
Someone had forged my name.
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