Billionaire’s Missing Baby Page 5

  “I took an interest in nursing from an early age, too,” the woman confided quietly when they’d been waiting in the private room for the contractions to begin in earnest. “It’s nice to think we have something in common. Babies do pick up their genetics from their biological parents, after all.”

  That statement had done a lot to ease some of the niggling doubts that Theresa experienced as month after month passed and she still hadn’t heard anything from her child’s adoptive mother. “Yeah,” she’d agreed. “I guess they do.”

  “Okay, Theresa, you’re doing great,” the doctor said. The woman wasn’t one she knew from the clinic, or had ever worked with before. She was someone the Connors had hired, someone private and expensive, who grinned encouragingly over her wide-rimmed glasses. “One more push should just about do it.”

  Theresa nodded, took a deep breath, and then the next contraction hit her; a harsh wall of pain. She barely heard the doctor encouraging, “push, push, push.” She didn’t notice Mr. Connors leaning forward expectantly to view his daughter’s grand entrance to the world. She knew only the deepest pain she’d ever felt, and a primal need to get the cause of it out of her.

  “The head’s out!”

  A cheer went up. The doctor nearly crowed with victory. Theresa rolled her eyes. “Don’t know what y’all are celebrating for. I’m the one doing all the work, and I say we’re not done yet.”

  A ripple of nervous giggles ran through the room. There was another terrible pain, and Theresa bore down.

  To her surprise, the doctor held up a hand. “Wait.”

  “What?”

  Her head was already spinning. She was exhausted. In its entirety, this labor had lasted about eighteen hours already, and the last two had been ten times the hard work of the first sixteen.

  Mr. Connors seemed oddly in control of the situation, which went a long way toward soothing Theresa, if she was honest with herself. If he could come this far and not get scared, then she should be able to do the same.

  “Is something wrong?” he asked the doctor.

  “Not serious, but the little one’s elbow looks a bit stuck. I’m just going to reach in and rotate it a bit.” She raised an eyebrow at Theresa. “You’re going to feel a little pressure, but don’t push. The cord might wrap around the baby’s neck if you do.”

  Theresa nodded as if her life, or the little one’s inside her, depended on the precise bobbing motion of her head. “I won’t push,” she told the doctor. She felt an icy hand squeezing at her heart, but her eyes remained fixed on the expectant parents. She could do this.

  It seemed like the entire world held its breath. The room, which just a moment ago was the picture of celebration, became solemn. Two nurses stood by ready to assist should they need to, and Mr. Connors squeezed his wife’s hand. She looked at Theresa only briefly before turning uncertainly back to her husband. Theresa felt the odd sensation of the doctor adding to the unrelenting pressure of her labor. Her fingers rested at an odd angle, deep inside of her, and the baby seemed to shift.

  “Push,” the doctor instructed. Her voice wasn’t any louder than it had been, but Theresa felt it like an order she’d been waiting for. She did as she was told, and her daughter finally slipped free. There was a mad scramble, followed by moments that felt like minutes as they waited for the baby’s cry. It spilled through the room like the only sound Theresa could hear.

  The entire room applauded, and Mr. Connors stepped over to squeeze her hand, but Theresa’s own world had narrowed to the sound of the baby girl crying indignantly as she was cleaned, wrapped and weighed. So focused was she on her—their daughter, that it barely registered when Mr. Connors said in surprise and a tinge of disappointment, “She’s very pale.”

  “She’ll get darker.” Mrs. Connors said with a soft smile, and kept looking inscrutably at Theresa, but Theresa noticed that she wasn’t crying. Neither of them were. Jim seemed only to be pleased at the news that his daughter would eventually get darker.

  He turned that smile onto Theresa. “Thank you,” he said sincerely. “Did you want to hold her?”

  Theresa’s heart seized up at the thought, this time spreading a warmth that radiated outward. The little girl was beautiful; round cheeks, a little bow mouth, and a mass of dark curls. Everything inside of her ached to hold the little one in her arms, but she knew better. If she did that, she might never let her go.

  She shook her head. “Best not,” she said, smiling to mask the tears at the back of her throat.

  Mrs. Connors clucked sympathetically and took the baby from the nurse who had been weighing her. Adoptive mother and daughter gazed at each other.

  Theresa pushed aside the ache she felt. She’d been in labor; of course she felt a bit empty just now. She was just emotional. It happened. She focused instead on the rounded cheeks and fat healthy legs and belly of the baby she’d brought into the world.

  She knew she had done something good today. One less child who would live unloved because of what she had given this perfectly lovely couple. She had to swallow a few times to make sure the tears stayed down.

  ***

  Maggie looked down on the innocent face of the sleeping newborn. James strode into the room, all confidence and swagger. Her heart went out to him.

  His father seemed to bring out the worst in him, but as she watched James hefting the baby up, she thought she saw a softer side of him. Away from the old man's influence, he seemed much more relaxed and comfortable. Still, she felt her heart racing with the reality of what they were doing.

  "Will you tell your brother?" she asked, her accent thickening slightly with emotion.

  James sighed. "Honestly, I don't know. Adam is Dad's favorite, and I'd hate to think of the little one growing up in those kind of circumstances, you know? When she first arrived, she was much lighter, but now that she’s darkened up a bit, I’m sure the old man would notice right away and Adam would be disinherited so fast it would make his head spin."

  Maggie stroked the baby’s soft little cheek as she shook her head, as if to protect her from all the racism she would encounter. James gave her up easily. "But surely once he sees the little one… I mean, she's adorable. He can't really be so cold-hearted as to disown her."

  James only raised an eyebrow. "You've dealt with the man yourself," he reminded her. "What do you think?"

  Maggie frowned. Certainly, the elder Costanza had his racist views but this was, according to James, his first grandchild. He couldn't possibly blame a child for being born. And Adam? She'd seen the kindness in the man, the patience, and how he'd flinched with embarrassment at his father's harsh words. She couldn't imagine that he would be racist toward his own daughter, but James was shaking his head.

  "The mother and I have discussed this a lot," he said, squeezing Maggie's shoulder. "The poor thing can't afford to raise a kid, and honestly, I'm afraid of what my father would do if he found out about her. Maybe someday I can tell Adam, but from what—" he looked around again, as two doctors passed within hearing distance. When they left, he pointed at the delivery room. "From what that woman has told me," he continued in a whisper, "their relationship ended badly enough that she didn't even tell him she was pregnant."

  Maggie frowned, trying to reconcile what he was telling her with the patience of the man she knew. "It doesn't sound like him," she offered, finally.

  For a second, James' face took on a nasty expression that made him look like his father. "Think so, do you?" he said dourly, then shook his head and squeezed her shoulder again. The smile he offered her was thin, and tinged with bitterness, but when he spoke his voice was soft and patient. "Trust me, you don't know him like I do."

  Maggie nodded uncertainly. From what James had told him, all they had growing up was each other. If James told her his brother was secretly an abusive, racist man, it would explain his father's favoritism towards him. She looked sadly down at the little creature, wrapped in the wool blanket.

  James looked down at the ba
by for only a second before saying briskly, "We're going to stick with the plan, right? To the letter."

  She nodded in agreement.

  "Say it back to me," he prompted, like a teacher asking a child to recite a lesson.

  Maggie rolled her eyes at him.

  "It's important," he said, his voice imperious and demanding.

  She rolled her eyes again but recited, "Take the baby back to my place. Call your father's house and tell your brother that I'm taking time off from caring for your father because I must look after my sister's niece for a few months. Wait for you."

  "Right." He grinned at her unexpectedly. "If my father dies in the next few months, God forbid, we'll have a better idea how Adam will react. If it's as bad as I think it is, then we'll look for an adoptive family for this little one." He spared a brief smile for the baby. "And you can get on with your life, $100,000 richer," he added.

  Maggie nodded. It was a ridiculous sum of money, and even though she could have, she didn't offer to help this child escape poverty and racism for less. She'd faced worse in her home country, and the thought of being responsible for caring for this helpless little person, while her uncle went looking for the perfect family for her, warmed her right down to her toes. Still, she thought, it was a lot of money, and why not, for such a good deed? With this in mind, she kept her mouth shut.

  "Go on," he said. "Take her."

  Maggie frowned. "I—I haven't got much," she said. "Just the car seat and a few toys and—"

  “Here, he interrupted her.” He reached into his wallet and handed her a check. "Consider it an investment fee. Just get her whatever."

  Maggie nodded, then asked shyly, "Did you want to hold her?"

  James, startled for a moment, seemed to hesitate. "Nah," he said. "Not into babies."

  He offered his trademark charming grin and she nodded, still feeling uncertain. She looked down at the baby, and when she looked up, James was already walking back toward the delivery room.

  "James?"

  "What?" Now, he sounded impatient, which made her uncertain.

  "She—she hasn't got a name."

  "What's it matter?" he shrugged. "She'll be adopted soon, they'll give her a name."

  "But…" Maggie shook her head. "That might not be for months! What are we going to call her?"

  "I don't know. Who cares? Call her Little Orphan Annie, if it makes you happy."

  Maggie flinched from the sudden harshness of his tone. She shook it off, imagining it was probably an emotional day for him, too. As he left, she looked down at the baby again, whose tiny dark head was resting on her shoulder.

  "Annie," she said thoughtfully, testing it out. The little fist uncurled from the blanket, and the baby girl opened an eye, and then both eyes, to gaze curiously at her. Maggie smiled. "Like that? Annie. It's a good name, isn't it?"

  The baby didn't answer, but continued to blink at her in thoughtful silence.

  "Okay, Annie." She looked down at the check that had been James' parting gift and gasped. "Feel like going shopping?"

  The little one scrunched up her face and made a noise of distress.

  Maggie swaddled her tighter and laughed. "Don't you worry. You'll get used to it."

  Chapter Nine

  Theresa woke with a startled gasp from her dreams of sirens and the sound of her infant brother crying. She was alone in the delivery room, clutching at the sheets. Tears she didn’t remember crying were dried onto her cheeks.

  The door opened and she leaned forward, expecting to see Mr. Connors’ blonde hair and ready smile. Instead, a petite brunette nurse with a spray of freckles across her cheeks bustled into the room.

  “Hi, hon. How you feeling?” she asked, her smile turning concerned as she gazed at Theresa. She realized she was clutching the bed covers hard enough for her hands to hurt, and forced herself to relax them.

  “I was just—” she looked around. “Where's the baby? Where are the Connors?”

  The nurse frowned, looking at the chart, then nodded and smiled in a way that suggested all was right with the world.

  “They left already,” she explained. “They said that you hadn’t seemed comfortable having the baby with you, so they wanted to get the paperwork done as quickly as possible. Oh, and they left this for you.”

  Theresa felt an inexplicable sense of loss as she stared uncertainly at the envelope that was offered to her. She opened it. Inside was a check and a handwritten letter.

  “Oh. Thank you,” she said, suddenly overcome with emotion. The nurse seemed to understand.

  “I’ll just be out of your hair,” she replied, briskly checking Theresa’s blood pressure and fluffing her pillows before leaving the room, giving Theresa some much needed privacy. She opened the letter.

  Dear Theresa,

  Thank you for what you have done for my family. Words cannot express my gratitude for your sacrifice. Enclosed is the second half of the promised amount, plus a little bonus for yourself. I hope it helps to ease your mind.

  Theresa felt her eyes well up with tears. So, that was it then. It was only a short letter, but she was touched he seemed to notice her hesitancy. It wasn’t an exorbitant amount of money, of course, but it was more than she had expected, and maybe even a little more than she needed.

  She might have enough to start saving again. It should have made her happy. She took a deep, shuddering breath. The emptiness she felt was natural, she told herself. She had told pregnant women this again and again. It didn’t mean anything. “Wait a few weeks,” she often said. “You’ll be so happy, and feel so much better.”

  Except… those women had a baby to bring home.

  She shook her head. She had known going into this that this stage would be difficult. She would talk to Sarah, throw herself into the renovations for her house. Work would be her refuge. She could get through this.

  ***

  James downed another long swig of his drink. He had earned it. It hadn't been easy to set all this up, but he was genuinely proud at how well it all seemed to be working out. That bleeding heart, Maggie, had been so easy to manipulate it was laughable, and now she was sitting home with the baby while he was going about business as usual the very next day. He was happily secure in the knowledge that Adam’s baby was a child their father was sure to detest, just as he'd planned. For once he would be his father’s favorite, and the man would disinherit his eldest son.

  Maggie really was stupid, though he couldn’t complain too much. She was the reason he was here sipping a scotch and periodically checking his watch as he waited for four o’clock to arrive. He was still amazed by how easily the woman had fallen in with his plans.

  James checked his watch again, then the clock at the club. Five minutes. He took another dash of liquid courage from his glass, and stilled the hand that had started picking at his sleeve unconsciously. It wouldn’t do to look nervous. He wasn’t nervous. He was in complete control.

  At four o’clock on the dot, he spotted them. They looked more like mob bosses than drug dealers, but James had never bothered asking the two men if they had been made. He tried to smile, but at the somber looks they wore he felt the smile drop off his face so fast he thought his jaw had gone into shock.

  Both men were huge. George, on the left, didn’t talk much and existed just to be hulking and terrifying, with a blonde haircut shaved even closer than Adam’s and a pair of sunglasses he never took off, even indoors. Next to him was Juan, with perfectly smooth, youthful olive skin. He looked quite young, and only the few streaks of grey at his temples revealed his age. His face was one continual frown, with deep brown eyes that were quick and sparkling, and possessed a piercing intelligence that made any onlookers nervous.

  James steeled his nerve and matched Juan’s gaze as best he could. The two sat down, one on either side of him. George’s hulking girth made the bar stool protest loudly.

  Juan gestured to the bartender and ordered drinks for both of them. Casting a casual glance at James’ hand
on his glass, he ordered him another drink as well. Then, eyes on the bartender, not even bothering to turn and look at James, he asked, “Do you have my money?”

  “I can give you another thirty thousand,” James tried. He thought of the money he’d given the nurse to care for the little girl and the money he’d pissed away at procuring the little bastard in the first place. Worth it, of course, once everything came to fruition.

  “Thirty thousand?” Juan grumbled. “That’s less than a tenth of what you owe us, Costanza.”

  “I know,” he swallowed hard. “The old man’s on his last legs. I know that doesn’t mean much to you, but hear me out. When he goes? There’s millions in investments. He doesn’t even know where half his money is. I’ve been tracking it all down myself.” He winced and added, “But there’s some places I can’t get into without his permission.”

  Next to him, George snorted, making James jump.

  Juan rolled his eyes. “There are things he won’t tell his own son? Even on his deathbed?”

  James’ expression went sour. “Adam’s executor of his estate,” he explained. He opened his mouth to make some excuse as to why his father believed Adam to be the more responsible one, but Juan waved his protests away.

  “Older brother is the favorite, hmm? So, what makes you think big brother will be doling out my money with your monthly allowance once Daddy finally—” He raised an eyebrow and looked over at George, who smirked darkly. “Kicks the ol’ bucket?”

  "Oh, don't you worry," James told him, all brash confidence and charm. "Big brother is about to fall out of favor in a big way." He used the same smile that had gotten Maggie to sign on to the whole thing. It didn't quite work the same on the two hulking sharks in front of him, but Juan raised an eyebrow and waited for him to continue, which he took as a win. “There’s a little something I’ve been working on. Bit of a long game, to be honest. I didn’t let you in on it before because I honestly couldn’t image it working out as well as it has."