Chapter 3 - Three Missing Birthdays
Harbor Family Adoption Services opened at eight.
Ethan called at 8:01.
By 8:20, he was speaking with placement coordinator Angela Reese, who had handled Sadie’s adoption six years earlier.
Angela remembered him.
She remembered Leah.
She remembered the letters.
“All eight?”
Ethan asked.
“Yes.”
“I received the first five.”
“That matches our records.”
“And the last three?”
“Delivered.”
“To my house?”
“Yes.”
“Signed by whom?”
Keyboard clicking.
Angela became quiet.
“Ethan.”
“What?”
“The last three were signed V. Ashford.”
His stomach dropped.
“Veronica.”
“I assume.”
“Did anyone call me?”
“We sent email confirmations to the family contact address.”
“Which address?”
The shared household office account.
Veronica managed it.
Ethan closed his eyes.
He had given her access because she offered to take over personal administration after they married.
School forms.
Travel.
Household vendors.
Medical bills.
Adoption correspondence.
He thought delegating meant building a partnership.
Now he realized he had also created a gate.
“Did Veronica contact you directly?”
Angela hesitated.
“There were two calls.”
Ethan’s hand tightened around the phone.
“When?”
“About fourteen months ago and again nine months ago.”
“What did she ask?”
“The first was general.”
“About?”
“Whether biological-parent correspondence was legally required.”
“It isn’t.”
“No. Leah’s contact was voluntary under the mediated agreement.”
“And the second call?”
Angela paused.
“She asked whether an adoption could be reversed because of behavioral issues.”
Ethan stood so quickly his chair hit the wall.
“She asked what?”
“I explained that legal adoption is not something a stepparent can simply reverse. I told her she would need family counsel for any legal question and that our agency would not discuss hypothetical dissolution with someone who was not the adoptive parent.”
“Did she say Sadie was having behavioral problems?”
“She said there were concerns about attachment, lying, and manipulation.”
Ethan’s vision blurred.
Sadie was eight.
She forgot shoes.
Hid peas under napkins.
Lied once about brushing her teeth.
Normal.
“What else?”
“She asked whether Leah could be contacted if a placement ever disrupted.”
Ethan’s jaw clenched.
“I want copies of everything you legally can give me.”
“We’ll need identity verification.”
“Send it.”
“And Ethan?”
“Yes?”
“Leah did not request contact beyond what you agreed.”
“I know.”
“She has been very respectful.”
“I know.”
“She never tried to interfere with your parenting.”
“I know.”
The repetition hurt.
Angela softened.
“I’m sorry.”
Ethan looked toward the staircase.
“So am I.”
Sadie was eating breakfast with Martha.
She wore one of Ethan’s old college shirts over leggings.
Her hair was dry now.
She looked very small beneath the oversized sleeves.
Ethan sat across from her.
“Can I tell you something about Leah?”
Sadie looked at Martha first.
Then Ethan.
“Did she write?”
“Yes.”
“How many times?”
“Every year.”
Sadie’s eyes widened.
“Every birthday?”
“Yes.”
“Why didn’t I get them?”
Ethan chose truth carefully.
“Because I was saving the earlier ones until you were older.”
She accepted that.
“And the new ones?”
Ethan breathed.
“I didn’t know they came.”
Sadie looked down.
“Veronica hid them.”
It wasn’t a question.
Ethan could have softened it.
He didn’t.
“Yes.”
Sadie’s eyes filled.
“Why?”
“I don’t know everything yet.”
“She said Leah forgot me.”
“I know.”
“Was that a lie?”
“Yes.”
Sadie pressed her hands together.
Martha moved closer.
Sadie whispered,
“Did Leah want me?”
Ethan felt his heart break.
“She wanted you very much.”
“Then why didn’t she keep me?”
There was no perfect answer.
“Because wanting someone and being able to give them a safe life are not always the same thing.”
Sadie stared.
“Did she choose you?”
“Yes.”
“How?”
“Through the agency.”
“Did she know you?”
“Not before.”
“Why you?”
Ethan smiled faintly.
“She said my adoption profile had too many pictures of dogs.”
Sadie almost smiled.
“We didn’t have a dog.”
“I was planning ahead.”
That got a tiny laugh.
Then Ethan continued.
“She also said I sounded like someone who would answer questions honestly.”
Sadie’s smile disappeared.
“Did you?”
“Not always as well as I should have.”
She looked at him.
“But I will.”
Martha quietly placed a small box on the table.
“What’s that?” Ethan asked.
“I found it in Veronica’s writing desk behind a false drawer.”
Ethan stared.
Martha opened it.
Three sealed Harbor Family Adoption envelopes.
One for each missing birthday.
And beneath them—
a stack of printed emails.
Ethan recognized his own address at the top.
Except he had never written them.
Messages to the adoption agency.
To a child therapist he had never met.
To a boarding school in Connecticut.
Sadie’s name appeared repeatedly.
One subject line:
Placement Options for Adopted Child With Attachment Issues
Ethan felt cold.
Sadie leaned forward.
“Is that about me?”
He closed the box.
“Yes.”
“What is placement?”
He looked at Martha.
Then back at Sadie.
“An adult problem.”
Her expression hardened.
“You said adults say that when they’re scared.”
He almost smiled despite the horror.
“You’re right.”
He took a breath.
“Some of the papers are about schools where children live away from home.”
Sadie stared.
“Veronica wanted me to leave?”
“I don’t know how serious it got.”
“She asked the adoption people if you could give me back.”
Ethan froze.
Sadie had heard more of his phone call than he realized.
“Sadie—”
“Did she?”
Ethan hated the answer.
“She asked a question she had no right to ask.”
Sadie’s eyes filled.
“Did you want that?”
“No.”
Immediate.
Absolute.
“No.”
She looked at him.
“You promise?”
“I don’t promise things I can’t control.”
He reached across the table.
“But this I control.”
His voice steadied.
“You are my daughter.”
Pause.
“You don’t get returned.”
Sadie stared at him.
Then grabbed his hand.
A minute later, Ethan’s phone rang.
His estate attorney.
Julia Bennett.
“Ethan, I received your message.”
“I need to ask you something.”
“Go ahead.”
“Has Veronica ever contacted you about Sadie?”
Silence.
Too long.
“Julia?”
“Yes.”
Ethan closed his eyes.
“What did she want?”
Julia’s voice became careful.
“She wanted to know what happens to your estate if Sadie is no longer living in your household.”
Ethan stopped breathing.
And suddenly the missing letters and boarding-school inquiries had a second possible purpose.
May you like
Not only emotional control.
Money.
