Chapter 2 - The Adoption Agency
For several seconds, neither Maya nor I spoke.
The sounds of the hospital continued around us.
Monitors beeped.
Shoes squeaked across polished floors.
A baby cried somewhere down the hallway.
But inside our room, the world had gone silent.
Maya stared at the frozen security image.
The white envelope remained visible in Mark’s hand.
Bright Future Family Services.
A private adoption agency.
“No.”
Maya shook her head.
“No, that can’t be right.”
“Maybe they share an office with a pediatric clinic.”
“They don’t.”
I scrolled through the search results.
The agency’s website featured smiling couples holding newborns.
The slogan beneath the logo read:
Building families through private domestic placement.
Maya reached for her phone.
Her hands were trembling too badly to type.
“Call them.”
“It’s almost one in the morning.”
“Call anyway.”
I pressed the number.
A recorded message answered.
“Thank you for contacting Bright Future Family Services.”
“Our offices are closed for the New Year’s holiday.”
“If this is an emergency involving an active placement, press nine.”
I pressed nine.
The phone rang six times.
A tired woman answered.
“This is Rebecca.”
“How can I help you?”
“My name is David Collins.”
“My six-day-old son may have been brought to your agency on December twenty-sixth without my permission.”
Silence.
“Mr. Collins, are you the child’s legal father?”
“Yes.”
“Is the child currently safe?”
“He’s in the hospital with me.”
“Who brought him to the agency?”
“My mother.”
“My sister.”
“My brother-in-law.”
The woman’s tone changed.
“Do you have a case number?”
“No.”
“I didn’t know there was a case.”
“Please hold.”
The call went silent.
Maya watched me.
“What is she doing?”
“Checking.”
“David, what if they tried to give him away?”
“They didn’t.”
“You don’t know that.”
“No.”
“I don’t.”
The woman returned.
“Mr. Collins?”
“Yes.”
“I found a consultation entered under the name Liam Collins.”
My hand tightened around the phone.
“Who scheduled it?”
“A woman named Eleanor Collins.”
“What did she tell you?”
“I can’t disclose confidential information over the phone.”
“That is my son.”
“I understand.”
“She had no authority.”
“I understand.”
“She drugged my wife and took our newborn child to your office.”
The woman inhaled sharply.
“Did you say drugged?”
“Yes.”
“We have security footage.”
“I need to speak with my supervisor.”
“I also recommend that you contact the police immediately.”
“Was someone trying to adopt my son?”
Another silence.
This one lasted too long.
“Mr. Collins, I’m not authorized to answer that.”
“You just did.”
I ended the call.
Maya’s breathing became shallow.
“Tell me.”
“There was a consultation.”
“With Liam’s name.”
She pressed both hands against her face.
I moved closer.
“Maya, look at me.”
“They didn’t take him.”
“He’s here.”
“They brought him back.”
“For now.”
The last two words broke something in me.
For now.
That was how Maya had been living.
Always waiting for the next punishment.
The next theft.
The next threat.
The next time someone would take her son from her arms.
I dialed 911.
The dispatcher answered immediately.
“911, what is your emergency?”
“My wife was denied food and medical care after surgery.”
“Our newborn son was taken without permission.”
“We have video showing my family disabling security cameras.”
“And I believe they brought him to an adoption agency.”
The dispatcher asked for the hospital location.
Then she asked whether the suspects were present.
“No.”
“They’re in Miami.”
“Do you know their exact location?”
“Yes.”
“They’re staying at the Fontaine Crest Resort in South Beach.”
I had booked the rooms.
Of course I knew.
I had paid for their flights too.
At the time, my mother said the trip would be a small reward for helping Maya.
She had told me Maya supported the idea.
Maya had known nothing about it.
“Officers are being sent to your location,” the dispatcher said.
“Do not contact the suspects.”
That instruction almost made me laugh.
My mother had already tried calling seventeen times since the cards were canceled.
Chloe had called nine times.
Mark had sent four messages.
The latest read:
What the hell did you do to the cards?
Another message arrived.
Call me now. The hotel says the payment was declined.
Then my mother texted.
David, there appears to be a banking error. Fix it immediately. We are being embarrassed.
Not once did she ask whether Maya was okay.
Not once did she ask about Liam.
I showed the messages to Maya.
Her expression contained no surprise.
Only exhaustion.
“She’ll blame me.”
“She can try.”
“She always wins.”
“Not this time.”
A nurse entered to check Maya’s IV.
She glanced at the phone in my hand.
“Police are on the way?”
“Yes.”
The nurse nodded.
“Good.”
Maya looked at her.
“You think I should report them?”
The nurse paused.
“I think someone left you bleeding, hungry, and freezing with a newborn.”
“I think someone interfered with your medication.”
“And I think you are asking permission to protect yourself because they taught you that protecting yourself was selfish.”
Maya’s eyes filled.
The nurse adjusted the blanket.
“It isn’t selfish.”
She left without saying more.
Twenty minutes later, two officers entered.
Officer Ramirez was a woman in her forties with calm eyes.
Officer Bennett was younger and carried a small body camera on his chest.
They asked Maya if she wanted me to remain.
“Yes.”
Then Officer Ramirez began.
“Tell me what happened from the beginning.”
Maya struggled.
Not because she didn’t remember.
Because she had been trained to minimize every cruelty.
“They helped a little.”
“They brought groceries.”
“They checked on the baby.”
“They were under stress.”
Officer Ramirez listened without interrupting.
Then she asked one question.
“When was the last full meal you ate?”
Maya looked down.
“Christmas morning.”
Five days ago.
“What did you eat?”
“Half a piece of toast.”
Officer Bennett stopped writing.
“Before that?”
“I don’t remember.”
I closed my eyes.
The officers reviewed the photographs.
Then I showed them the security footage.
They watched my mother take the food.
They watched Chloe remove Liam.
They watched Mark lock the door.
They watched the cameras go dark.
When the footage returned, they watched my mother carry Liam inside after midnight.
Officer Ramirez replayed the comment about the clinic bracelet.
Then she looked at me.
“Send us copies.”
“I will.”
“We’re opening an investigation.”
“Will you arrest them?”
“That depends on the evidence.”
“They stole medication.”
“They took my son.”
“They may have drugged my wife.”
“And they took him to an adoption agency.”
“I understand.”
“But we need documentation.”
I handed her the prescription bottle information from Maya’s patient portal.
Then I remembered something else.
“My mother had access to our mail.”
“Why?”
“She volunteered to collect it while I was overseas.”
Officer Bennett looked up.
“Was any mail missing?”
“I don’t know.”
Maya’s eyes widened.
“The blue envelope.”
“What blue envelope?”
“It came three days after Liam was born.”
“Your mother opened it.”
“What was inside?”
“She wouldn’t tell me.”
“She said it was insurance paperwork.”
“Then she put it in her purse.”
Officer Ramirez wrote it down.
“Do you know the sender?”
“No.”
“But the envelope had the same logo.”
I looked at Maya.
“What logo?”
“The adoption agency.”
The officers exchanged a glance.
My phone rang.
Bright Future Family Services.
I answered on speaker.
“This is David.”
“Mr. Collins, this is Rebecca again.”
“My director is on the line.”
Another voice joined.
“Mr. Collins, my name is Linda Shaw.”
“I’m the executive director.”
“We reviewed the file connected to your son.”
“And?”
“We believe fraudulent documents may have been submitted.”
“What documents?”
“A temporary guardianship authorization.”
“A maternal consent form.”
“And a preliminary medical release.”
Maya sat upright despite the pain.
“I never signed anything.”
Linda’s voice softened.
“Mrs. Collins, we are not saying you did.”
“We are saying documents bearing your name were presented.”
Officer Ramirez stepped closer.
“This is Officer Elena Ramirez with the New York Police Department.”
“I need you to preserve every document, video recording, visitor log, and communication related to this case.”
“We will.”
“Who attended the appointment?”
“I cannot provide full details without counsel present.”
“You can tell me whether Eleanor Collins was there.”
“Yes.”
“Chloe Baker?”
“Yes.”
“Mark Baker?”
“Yes.”
“Anyone else?”
Linda hesitated.
“Yes.”
“A prospective adoptive couple.”
Maya made a broken sound.
I reached for her.
“Did they meet my son?” I asked.
“Yes.”
“Did they hold him?”
“I’m afraid so.”
The room blurred.
A stranger had held my six-day-old son.
A stranger had been told he might become theirs.
While Maya lay drugged on our sofa.
Officer Ramirez asked the next question.
“Was money discussed?”
Linda did not answer immediately.
“Ms. Shaw?”
“There was a proposed private living-expense arrangement.”
“How much?”
“Forty-five thousand dollars.”
My voice dropped.
“Who was supposed to receive it?”
“The maternal grandmother.”
Maya whispered.
“She isn’t my mother.”
Linda sounded confused.
“The file identifies Eleanor Collins as the birth mother’s mother.”
“She is David’s mother,” Maya said.
“She is not related to me.”
Another silence.
Then Linda said something worse.
“The documents identify David Collins as deceased.”
I felt Maya’s hand grip mine.
“What?”
“The file states that the child’s father died in an industrial accident in Germany.”
Officer Bennett swore under his breath.
I looked down at my own hands.
My mother had not merely pretended I was absent.
She had declared me dead.
Officer Ramirez began asking procedural questions.
Dates.
Signatures.
Identification documents.
Payment transfers.
I barely heard any of it.
My phone buzzed again.
A video call from Eleanor.
I rejected it.
She called again.
Officer Ramirez held out her hand.
“Answer.”
“You told me not to contact them.”
“She contacted you.”
“Put it on speaker.”
I accepted.
My mother’s face appeared.
She stood beneath golden lights in a luxury hotel lobby.
Music played behind her.
Her hair was styled.
Diamond earrings glittered beside her cheeks.
“Finally.”
Her voice was sharp.
“Do you have any idea how humiliating this is?”
“The resort froze our suite.”
“Mark’s card was declined at dinner.”
“Where are Maya and Liam?”
The question stopped her.
“What?”
“Where do you think they are?”
“At home.”
My mother’s face tightened.
“You left Maya alone?”
“She wanted rest.”
“You took the food.”
“She wasn’t eating it.”
“You took Liam’s formula.”
“That formula was ridiculously expensive.”
“You took my son to an adoption agency.”
The color drained from her face.
Behind her, Chloe appeared.
“What did he say?”
Eleanor moved away from the camera.
“I don’t know what you think you saw.”
“I saw everything.”
“You disabled the cameras.”
“You drugged my wife.”
“You took Liam.”
“David, lower your voice.”
Officer Ramirez gestured for me to continue.
“You told the agency I was dead.”
My mother’s expression changed.
The outrage disappeared.
Calculation replaced it.
“Who have you spoken to?”
“That’s your concern?”
“Who have you spoken to, David?”
“The hospital.”
“The adoption agency.”
“And the police.”
Chloe screamed in the background.
Mark moved into view.
“Hang up.”
My mother ignored him.
“Listen to me carefully.”
“No.”
“You listen.”
“You will return every dollar you stole.”
“You will surrender every document you forged.”
“And you will stay away from my wife and son.”
Eleanor’s mouth hardened.
“You ungrateful little fool.”
“I gave you everything.”
“You gave me fear and called it loyalty.”
“You gave me guilt and called it family.”
“You left my wife bleeding in a freezing apartment.”
“She was dramatic.”
“She had an infection.”
“She always has some problem.”
“She almost died.”
My mother rolled her eyes.
“She did not almost die.”
Maya made a small sound beside me.
Eleanor heard it.
Her attention sharpened.
“Maya.”
“Tell my son the truth.”
Maya stared at the phone.
“What truth?”
“That you agreed to the placement consultation.”
“I did not.”
“You signed the papers.”
“I never signed anything.”
My mother smiled.
“Then you’d better prove it.”
Officer Ramirez stepped into view.
“Mrs. Collins, this is the NYPD.”
“You are being instructed to preserve all documents and electronic communications connected to Liam Collins.”
My mother froze.
“David.”
“What have you done?”
“What you should have known I would do.”
“I protected my family.”
“I am your family.”
“No.”
“You are the reason they needed protection.”
Mark grabbed the phone.
“This conversation is over.”
Before the video ended, I heard Chloe shout.
“Mom, what about the account?”
Then the screen went black.
Officer Ramirez looked at me.
“What account?”
“I don’t know.”
My phone buzzed with a banking notification.
A transfer request had been initiated from my business reserve account.
Amount:
Two hundred and fifty thousand dollars.
Destination:
Bright Future Consulting LLC.
I had never heard of the company.
Officer Bennett searched the name on his tablet.
His expression changed.
“What is it?” I asked.
He turned the screen toward us.
The company had been registered three months earlier.
Its managing member was Mark Baker.
And the mailing address belonged to my mother.
The police had not yet left the room when another alert appeared.
This one was from my home security system.
Motion detected inside apartment.
I opened the live feed.
A man wearing a dark hood stood in our kitchen.
He held a screwdriver.
He walked directly toward the camera.
Before the feed went black, he looked into the lens.
May you like
It was my mother’s driver.
And in his other hand, he carried a red gasoline can.
