Chapter 3 - The Women Who Never Resigned
Matteo moved Abigail to a secured penthouse apartment owned by one of his companies.
She hated every second of it.
Not the apartment itself.
The silence.
The locked elevator.
The guards.
The knowledge that strangers somewhere had written a dollar amount beside her unborn child.
Federal investigators were contacted through Matteo’s attorney, but they refused to act solely on copied corporate files.
They needed witnesses.
Grace said, “Then we find the women.”
They began with Jessica Torres.
A private investigator found her in Nebraska.
Jessica initially refused contact.
When Abigail called personally, she changed her mind.
They met by encrypted video.
Jessica looked older than twenty-seven.
Her first words were, “Is my son alive?”
Abigail nearly cried.
Jessica explained.
At thirty-four weeks pregnant, hotel management moved her from banquet registration to laundry handling despite medical restrictions.
She collapsed at work.
Sinclair Memorial admitted her.
Doctors told her severe preeclampsia required emergency delivery.
She remembered medication.
Then waking without her baby.
A social worker said he had died.
Jessica asked to see him.
Denied.
Asked for a death certificate.
Delayed.
Hospital bills overwhelmed her.
Then the foundation offered $15,000 and demanded a confidentiality agreement regarding “employment-related distress.”
“I signed,” Jessica whispered. “I thought my baby was dead.”
Matteo asked, “Did anyone ever provide burial records?”
“No.”
The second woman, Hannah Price, told nearly the same story.
Different hospital.
Different physician.
Same social worker.
Marilyn Voss.
By evening they found seven women.
Five had been told their infants died.
Two had been convinced to surrender custody after being told the babies had severe disabilities requiring lifelong care they could never afford.
None had seen independent medical records.
Every case led to New Dawn.
But New Dawn had closed sixteen months earlier.
Its director supposedly moved overseas.
Matteo’s investigator traced the adoption files.
Several babies had legally gone to wealthy couples.
The adoptive parents appeared innocent.
They believed they were participating in legitimate private adoptions.
The biological mothers did not.
The scheme was elegant in its cruelty.
Sinclair hotels identified vulnerable pregnant workers.
The foundation gathered medical and financial information under the pretense of benefits.
Certain women were pressured out of jobs.
Others were sent to Sinclair hospitals.
Medical emergencies were exaggerated or manufactured.
After delivery, mothers were separated from their infants.
Documents were falsified.
New Dawn collected enormous adoption fees.
The foundation laundered proceeds through “maternal care expenses.”
Richard received political praise for helping poor women while profiting from taking their children.
Abigail vomited after understanding it.
Matteo waited outside the bathroom.
When she emerged, he handed her water.
“I should have known.”
“No.”
“I signed their forms.”
“You were offered help by your employer.”
“I let them collect everything about my baby.”
“They designed it so you would.”
She sat.
“Why is mine worth more?”
Matteo didn't answer.
Abigail looked at him.
“You know.”
“I have a theory.”
“Tell me.”
“Your blood.”
Abigail’s type was extremely rare.
The same reason she had been able to save Isabella.
The MTR database included maternal blood information.
Newborn compatibility could matter for a wealthy recipient family seeking a child with specific medical characteristics.
The thought made Abigail feel physically ill.
An hour later Matteo’s team confirmed it.
A confidential New Dawn client file showed an unnamed couple willing to pay more than a million dollars for priority placement of a healthy infant with a rare blood subtype.
The infant currently designated for them:
FOSTER NEWBORN.
Abigail pressed both hands against her belly.
“No one is touching my child.”
Matteo crouched in front of her.
“They won’t.”
“You can’t promise that.”
“Yes, I can.”
“No, you can promise security. Lawyers. Money. You cannot promise what other people will do.”
He went silent.
Abigail's voice sharpened.
“My entire life, rich people have promised things they couldn’t control. My landlord promised repairs. My manager promised maternity leave. Sinclair promised medical assistance.”
She looked directly into Matteo's eyes.
“I don’t need another powerful man promising to save me.”
The words hit him.
He nodded.
“You’re right.”
That response surprised her.
“What?”
“I said you’re right.”
He stood.
“So tell me what you need.”
Abigail thought.
“Information.”
“Done.”
“A lawyer who works for me, not you.”
“Done.”
“Grace and the other women protected.”
“Done.”
“And I make decisions about my case.”
Matteo hesitated only once.
“Done.”
The following morning, Abigail met federal prosecutor Naomi Reyes.
Naomi was forty-four, sharp-eyed, and unimpressed by Matteo’s wealth.
Abigail liked her immediately.
Naomi studied the files.
“If authentic, this is catastrophic.”
“How quickly can you stop it?”
“I need probable cause tied directly to current conduct.”
Abigail showed her the line:
ACCELERATE DELIVERY PROTOCOL.
Naomi's expression changed.
“When was this entered?”
“Yesterday.”
“Who accessed the system?”
Grace had downloaded audit logs.
User credential:
MVOSSADMIN.
Marilyn Voss.
The social worker from Jessica and Hannah's cases.
She still worked at Sinclair Memorial.
Naomi obtained an emergency surveillance order.
They watched Marilyn.
That night she met hotel security supervisor Nolan Pierce in a parking garage.
Audio caught part of the conversation.
“The Romano situation changed everything,” Pierce said.
Marilyn answered, “Then move the patient.”
“She’s not admitted.”
“She will be.”
“How?”
Marilyn looked annoyed.
“Same way as the others.”
“What if she refuses treatment?”
“She won't know she’s refusing.”
Naomi stopped the recording.
That was enough.
Agents moved.
Marilyn Voss was arrested at 11:48 p.m.
Nolan Pierce escaped before officers reached his apartment.
Inside, they found tranquilizers.
Hospital access badges.
Photographs of Abigail.
And a printed copy of her normal bus route.
The SUV attack was no longer speculation.
The next morning, Vanessa Sinclair appeared on national television.
She cried beautifully.
“I deeply regret the misunderstanding at the gala.”
Misunderstanding.
She claimed Abigail deliberately stepped into her path.
Claimed social media had distorted the event.
Then she said something that stunned everyone.
“My family has spent decades protecting vulnerable mothers. We will not allow opportunists to weaponize our charity.”
Abigail watched from the apartment.
Grace muttered, “She just called you an opportunist.”
Matteo said nothing.
Abigail turned off the television.
Then her phone rang.
Unknown number.
She answered.
A woman whispered:
“Abigail Foster?”
“Yes?”
“My name is Rachel Dean.”
A pause.
“I used to work for New Dawn.”
Abigail stood.
Rachel started crying.
“I know where some of the babies went.”
Abigail gripped the phone.
“All of them?”
“No.”
Rachel inhaled shakily.
“But I know something worse.”
“What?”
“The mothers weren’t selected randomly.”
Abigail’s skin prickled.
Rachel continued.
May you like
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“Richard Sinclair chose them himself.”
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