Four sons.
Four cribs.
Four names.
Four miracles.
My knees weakened.
Marianne reached for me.
The snow kept falling outside, soft and silent, burying every track Daniel had left in the driveway.
Then Investigator Haines returned from the front porch holding a black leather bag.
“We found this in Colonel Reynolds’ vehicle,” he said.
He unzipped it.
Inside were passports, cash, a burner phone, and a faded hospital bracelet sealed in a plastic evidence sleeve.
The name printed on it was mine.
Beneath it, in tiny letters, were two words I had never seen before.
Baby E.
PART 3 — THE FOLDER THAT TURNED CHRISTMAS INTO A TRIAL
The second folder landed on the table with a sound so small, it should not have frightened anyone.
And yet every person in the Reynolds family hall went still.
Daniel stared at it.
His mother, Margaret Reynolds, held the first packet against her chest as though the birth certificates inside were living things she was terrified someone would take away.
