Chapter 5 - The Web of Greed
I drove to the office of my older brother, David Vance, a former homicide detective turned licensed private investigator.
When I walked into his office and threw the DNA report onto his desk, David didn't waste ten seconds asking stupid questions. He read the 0.00% result, looked at my pale face, and picked up his coat.
"Tell me everything," David said.
I laid out Max’s testimony, the heel mark, the deleted photo of Evelyn Montgomery’s medical chart, and the black luxury sedan I had just photographed twenty minutes ago.
David pulled up the state corporate registry on his dual monitors.
"Mark’s architectural firm went bankrupt four months ago, Emma," David revealed, pointing to a series of court filings on his screen. "He filed for quiet restructuring. He owes $1.2 million to private hard-money lenders."
"What?" I gasped. "He told me his firm just signed a major contract with the city!"
"He lied," David said coldly. "And look at who holds the mortgage debt on his firm’s office building: Montgomery Global Capital."
The puzzle pieces snapped together with horrifying, grotesque clarity.
Richard and Evelyn Montgomery were ultra-wealthy socialites. Evelyn had been pictured in society magazines pregnant over the summer. But according to hospital whispers David pulled from an old police contact, Evelyn’s pregnancy had suffered severe late-stage complications.
"If Evelyn’s baby was stillborn or born with severe fatal defects," David hypothesized, his jaw clenching in disgust, "a public disclosure would destroy their corporate image and tank their stock before a major merger next week. So they bought a healthy baby. And Mark used your child to clear his debts."
"They bought my daughter," I whispered, pure fire roaring through my veins. "My husband sold my daughter."
"Where is the imposter baby from?" David asked.
"I don't know," I said. "Surrogate? An unwanted infant from a black-market clinic? It doesn't matter. I want my baby back, David. Today."
"If we go to the police right now without bulletproof physical custody proof, Montgomery’s lawyers will tie this up in court for months, transfer the baby overseas, and destroy the evidence," David warned. "We need to catch them with your biological baby in their physical possession."
"How?"
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David pulled a small silver device from his drawer—a high-frequency audio bug and GPS tracker no larger than a coat button.
"You're going back into that house," David said. "And you're going to make Mark tell you where she is."
