Chapter 11 - My Husband's Mother
Diane asked to see Ethan before she was transferred to county jail.
I expected him to refuse.
He didn’t.
“I need to hear her say it,” he told me.
I understood.
Some betrayals remain unreal until the person who caused them stops pretending.
The hospital gave them a private interview room with a detective outside. Ethan asked if I wanted to come.
I did.
Diane sat at a small table without makeup, jewelry, or the expensive cardigan she had worn that morning. The red mark from Ethan’s slap had faded to a pale bruise.
She looked smaller.
Not sorry.
Just smaller.
When I entered in a wheelchair, her eyes moved to Rose in my arms.
“She’s beautiful,” Diane whispered.
I covered Rose with the blanket.
“You don’t get to look at her.”
Diane flinched.
Ethan remained standing.
“Why?”
His mother sighed.
“Lauren was dying inside.”
“So you tried to give her my child.”
“Our child,” I corrected.
Diane looked at me.
“You had three.”
The sentence was so monstrous because she still believed it made sense.
Ethan leaned forward.
“They are not cupcakes.”
“I know that.”
“No. You don’t.”
Diane’s eyes filled.
“I watched your sister become less herself every year. Every treatment failed. Every announcement from her friends destroyed her. Then Rachel got pregnant with three at once.”
“And you decided the universe had made a clerical error?” I asked.
“She would have loved Rose.”
“So do I.”
“You could still love her.”
I stared at her.
Diane actually believed love could be divided by address.
Ethan asked, “Did you know Marissa planned to remove Rose in a laundry bag?”
“No.”
“Did you know she would swap another baby into the bassinet?”
“No.”
“Did you open Rose’s bracelet?”
Diane looked down.
“Yes.”
“Did you hand her to Marissa?”
Her voice dropped.
“Yes.”
I felt my nails cut into my palm.
Ethan’s face went blank.
“And the forged consent?”
“Crest said the documents were standard.”
“You knew Rachel never signed them.”
“I thought she would understand later.”
I almost laughed.
“Understand what? That you kidnapped my daughter before breakfast?”
Diane finally raised her voice.
“I was trying to save Lauren’s marriage!”
Ethan stared at her.
There it was.
Not motherhood.
Not grief.
Control.
“What did Mark threaten?” he asked.
Diane’s expression changed.
“He didn’t have to threaten. I knew he’d leave eventually.”
“Did Mark say that?”
“No.”
“Did Lauren?”
“No.”
“So you invented a crisis and stole a baby to solve it.”
Diane started crying.
“I made a mistake.”
Ethan’s voice became very quiet.
“A mistake is forgetting a birthday. You planned my daughter’s disappearance for five months.”
He turned toward the door.
Diane panicked.
“Ethan, please. I’m your mother.”
He stopped.
“Rachel is my wife. Those are my children. You made me choose.”
He opened the door.
“And you lost.”
As we left, Diane called my name.
“Rachel!”
I looked back.
She whispered, “Crest wasn’t going to give Rose to Lauren.”
Ethan froze.
“What?”
Diane’s face crumpled.
“He changed the deal yesterday.”
My skin went cold.
“What deal?”
“He said another family was offering more money.”
Rose had not been stolen to become Lauren’s daughter.
She had been stolen to be sold to the highest bidder.
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