The surgeons delivered my three daughters by cesarean section, but eighteen hours had not even passed when my mother-in-law took one of the babies from the crib and said: “You have three, Maren. My daughter has none. This belongs to her.”
At that moment I was half unconscious from the strong painkiller. I thought I had heard the words incorrectly. Somewhere in the room an oxygen machine was clicking, raindrops were hitting the window, and the IV tube on my wrist was pulling at my skin.
My son, six-year-old Callum, was sitting by the window and fastening his drawing notebook with a small copper bird-shaped clip. We had three girls: Lennox, Gemma, and Reni. For months Callum had been drawing their names and adding the same little bird to every page.
Beckett’s mother, Celestine, had come to the hospital that morning with her daughter Talia. Talia stood silently, holding a cup of cold coffee. She had wanted a child unsuccessfully for years, and I truly felt sorry for her. But Celestine’s sympathy was slowly turning into a strange demand.
During the pregnancy she often said:
“Three children are too many for one family.”
Or:
“God gives some women more because they must share with someone else.”
I always laughed artificially. Admitting the meaning of those words would have immediately made it horrifying.
Now Celestine stood by the cribs and looked at the girls as if she were choosing in a store. Then she lifted Gemma’s blanket and slid both hands beneath her.
“Celestine, ask me first,” I said, trying to sit up.
Fire struck through my abdomen. But she pulled the baby to her chest.
“Look, Talia. It is as if she was born for you.”
“Mother, don’t do this,” Talia’s voice trembled.
Celestine smiled.
“Maren has Lennox and Reni too. She will not even notice one when all three are crying.”
“Give me back my child.”
“You are emotional after the surgery. When you realize how difficult raising three infants will be, you will thank me.”
Beckett stepped between them. His voice was so calm that I became even more afraid.
“Mother, give me the baby.”
Celestine did not move for several seconds. Then she handed Gemma to Beckett. I pulled her to my chest and kissed her forehead until I heard Callum’s quiet voice.
“Dad… Gemma’s bracelet is open.”
All sound disappeared.
Beckett turned toward him.
“What are you saying, boy?”
Callum pointed to the baby’s tiny ankle. The clasp of the hospital’s transparent bracelet was no longer fully closed.
“When Dad went to get water, Grandma covered her legs with the blanket. Then she opened the bracelet.”
Celestine said to him in a sweet voice:
“You saw it incorrectly, sweetheart.”
“Don’t tell my son what he saw,” I said.
Nurse Odessa Vega came immediately and took out an electronic reader. She scanned Gemma’s bracelet. The device beeped once, then Odessa knitted her brows and tried again.
“This bracelet is definitely open,” she said.
Talia stared at her mother.
“Why Gemma?”
Celestine froze.
And I remembered her old words, which she had said to me in the fifth month of the pregnancy: “Baby B is the calmest. A child like that will be harmed less by a change.” At the time I thought it was simply nonsense.
Odessa reached toward the call button. Beckett looked at his mother as if he were seeing her for the first time.
Talia took a step toward me.
“Maren, Mother has been sending me some messages for months. You need to know what she was planning…”
At that moment the sound of fast footsteps came from the corridor. Odessa looked toward the door, while Beckett held Gemma more tightly. The door handle slowly went down and someone said from outside:
“I have permission to transfer the baby…”
The door opened and a hospital administrator entered, holding a brown folder. A security officer stood behind him.
“Who gave the order to transfer the baby?” Odessa asked.
The administrator looked toward Celestine.
“The papers say that the mother gave consent.”
“I did not sign any consent,” I said.
Celestine immediately exclaimed:
“Maren is confused. She cannot think after the surgery.”
Talia took out her phone.
“I have saved all of this. Mother was writing to me that Gemma was already ‘agreed upon.’”
Beckett looked at her.
“What does ‘agreed upon’ mean?”
Talia’s eyes filled with tears.
“She was telling me that in a few weeks I would return home with a baby. She told me that Maren knew, but that now she could no longer back out.”
“That is a lie!” Celestine shouted.
Callum clasped my hand. His fingers were cold, and for the first time I thought that the danger was not standing only in the room. Someone had prepared the documents in advance, knew the baby’s name, and knew that Gemma was ‘Baby B.’
Odessa locked the door.
“Until the police arrive, no one touches the babies.”
The administrator put the folder on the table and opened the first page. My signature was visible there.
But I knew that this signature was not mine.
A small memory card lay behind the folder. Talia saw it and turned pale.
“Mother said that no one was ever supposed to hear this recording…”
Odessa opened the folder while the security officer stood at the door. I half sat up in the bed, while Beckett held Gemma in his arms as if the whole world were trying to take her away.
The first page said that I supposedly agreed to give Gemma temporarily to Talia. My name was below, but the signature was slanted, written incorrectly, and at the end the letter “n” finished in a completely different way.
“This is not mine,” I said.
“I knew it,” Odessa replied. “The hospital camera recordings show that you did not sign this document.”
Talia put the phone on the table and opened the messages.
Celestine’s letters had accumulated for months.
“Gemma is the most suitable.”
“Maren cannot handle all three.”
“The important thing is that the bracelet be opened immediately after birth.”
Silence fell over the room.
Talia looked at her mother.
“Were you planning to steal the baby?”
Celestine shook her head, but her voice was no longer firm.
“It was not theft. It was help. You were supposed to become a mother.”
“By taking someone else’s child?”
“Maren had three! And you had none!”
Beckett clenched his teeth.
“Mother, enough.”
Talia picked up the memory card. Odessa put it into the hospital computer. Within a few seconds, a conversation between Celestine and an unknown woman appeared on the screen. The recording had been made in a kitchen. Celestine said that after the birth it would be easy to obtain consent from a “confused mother,” while a clinic employee would arrange for the baby to be taken out.
“Who is she?” Beckett asked.
“A private intermediary,” Talia said quietly. “Mother told me that everything looked legal.”
Celestine looked at the screen and her face twisted.
“This recording was made illegally.”
“An illegal recording cannot make the consent you forged genuine,” Odessa replied.
At that moment police officers entered. They put handcuffs on Celestine. Talia leaned against the wall and began to cry. Beckett brought Gemma to me.
I looked at the baby’s bracelet. The clasp was open, but Gemma was with me.
I thought the worst was already over.
Then one of the police officers called Beckett’s phone. He listened, lost color, and turned toward me.
“Maren… the investigator said that the intermediary mentioned another case. This did not begin only with our child. And the person who was taking Celestine’s money still works at this hospital…”
ჩანაწერში სელესტინის საკუთარი ხმა გაისმა…
მეგონა, სიმართლე უკვე ვიცოდი. მაგრამ ფინალმა მაჩვენა, რამდენად შორს წასულიყო ეს გეგმა.
„თქვენ საკუთარი სიტყვები თავად ჩაწერეთ.“
ოთახში სიჩუმე ჩამოწვა.
👇 ისტორიის ფინალი უკვე გახსნილია
