me.
“Rebecca has arranged to move Lucas to a private facility in Wisconsin tomorrow.”
“Why?”
“I don’t know.
But I’m going to find out.”
Before I could respond, someone knocked on the door.
A woman in a cream-colored coat entered carrying a leather folder.
She looked at Michael, then at the baby in my arms.
Her face became rigid.
“Dad,” she said, “you weren’t supposed to find her.”
Michael rose slowly.
“Rebecca.
What have you done?”
She ignored him and approached my bed.
“Camila Rivera?”
I tightened my arms around my son.
“Yes.”
Rebecca placed the folder on the bedside table.
“I’m here to resolve an unfortunate misunderstanding.”
I opened it.
Inside was a document titled Mutual Separation and Paternity Release.
My name appeared on the first page.
Lucas’s signature appeared on the last.
A payment of twenty-five thousand dollars was offered in exchange for my agreement not to pursue financial claims against Lucas or the Bennett family and not to seek a legal determination of paternity.
I looked up.
“What is this?”
“A practical solution,” Rebecca replied.
“You’ve been through enough.
Take the money and raise your baby without a fight.”
Michael took the document and examined it.
His jaw tightened.
“Rebecca, when did Lucas sign this?”
“Before the accident.”
I saw the date.
It was two days after Lucas had disappeared.
I looked at Michael.
He understood immediately.
Lucas had been unconscious in the hospital on that date.
“This signature can’t be genuine,” Michael said quietly.
Rebecca’s expression changed for the first time.
Then she tried to take the folder back.
I moved it beyond her reach.
“Get out,” I said.
She looked almost amused.
“You have no idea what you’re getting involved in.”
“Then you should have thought of that before bringing a forged agreement to my hospital room.”
Michael stepped between us.
“Leave, Rebecca.
Now.”
She stared at him for several seconds, then walked out without another word.
The door clicked shut.
My baby began fussing softly.
I held him against my chest, trying to steady my breathing.
“Why would she do this?” I whispered.
Michael didn’t answer immediately.
Instead, he took a photograph of the document with my permission and asked whether he could call the hospital social worker.
Within an hour, a woman named Jocelyn Price sat beside my bed, listening carefully as I explained the messages, the accident, the strange telephone call, and Rebecca’s offer.
Jocelyn helped me contact a legal-aid attorney experienced in family matters and referred us to a lawyer who handled concerns involving incapacitated adults and financial abuse.
She also made something clear that I desperately needed to hear.
“You don’t have to sign anything tonight,” she said.
“You have just given birth.
Your first responsibility is to recover and care for your child.”
For the first time since Lucas disappeared, someone was treating me as a person rather than a problem to be managed.
The following morning, Michael brought me information about a family trust established by his late father.
Rebecca and Lucas each held beneficial interests in the trust.
Under its written terms, if Lucas died, his share would pass to his children.
If he died without descendants, much of that interest would eventually pass to Rebecca.
Michael had never considered what those provisions might mean while his
