The Birthmark on the Orphan's Hand Matched the Billionaire's Family Crest — The Director's Face Went Pale

The Forged Birth Certificate Named a Woman Who Had Died a Decade Ago

The Blackwood Heritage Orphanage had a basement, and that basement had a filing room. Dominic Mercer had paid a lot of money over the years to learn that secrets always live in basements.

Now, with Thorne handcuffed to a chair in the director's office, Dominic and Camille sat across from him, Toby safe in the care of a trusted guard in the next room.

"Start talking," Dominic said, his voice calm but edged with steel.

Thorne licked his lips. "I don't know what you think you saw—"

"The birthmark," Camille cut in. "The same mark as in our locket. The same mark our son had when he was born. The same mark that disappeared when he was taken from the hospital nursery fourteen years ago."

Thorne's eyes darted to the window. "I wasn't here then."

"But you've been here for twenty years," Dominic said, sliding a folder across the desk. "And this orphanage's records go back further than that."

He opened the folder. Inside was a birth certificate, yellowed with age, bearing the name "Tobias Blackwood." The mother's name was listed as "Jane Blackwood."

"Jane Blackwood died in a car accident eleven years ago," Dominic said. "She left no children. We checked."

Thorne's hands were shaking now. "I don't know anything about that."

"Then why is your signature on the transfer papers?" Camille asked, sliding another document across the desk. "This one authorizes the sale of a newborn to a private party. Your signature, your seal, your bank account."

Thorne stared at the paper. His mouth opened, but no words came out.

"The buyer," Dominic said, leaning forward. "Who paid you to take our son?"

"I don't—"

"Don't lie to me again." Dominic's voice dropped to a whisper. "I have resources. I will find out eventually. The only question is whether you'll spend the next twenty years in a federal prison, or whether you'll walk free in exchange for the truth."

Thorne's eyes went wide. He looked from Dominic to Camille, then back to Dominic. "It was your own family," he said, his voice barely audible. "Your brother. Edward Mercer."

Camille gasped. "Edward? That's impossible. He's—"

"He's your husband's business partner," Thorne said. "And he paid me a million dollars to take the baby and make sure he never found his way back to you."

Dominic's face went white. "Edward?" He pulled out his phone. "I need to make a call."

But Thorne shook his head. "He's already gone. He left for the Cayman Islands this morning."

"Then we're going to the Cayman Islands," Camille said, standing up. "And we're bringing our son."

Dominic looked at her, his eyes filled with a mixture of rage and grief. "He's been lying to us for fourteen years. He sat at our table. He held our other children."

"And now he's going to pay," Camille said.

She turned to Thorne. "You're going to testify. Every detail, every payment, every name."

Thorne nodded weakly. "I will. Just don't send me to that prison."

Dominic stood up. "You'll get what you deserve."

He walked to the door and paused. "But first, we're going to see our son."

In the next room, Toby sat on a velvet settee, his leg brace propped on a footstool. He looked up as they entered, his eyes cautious but hopeful.

"Are you really my parents?" he asked.

Camille knelt beside him. "Yes, sweetheart. We are."

"And you're going to take me home?"

Dominic's voice cracked. "Yes. We're going to take you home."

Toby's face broke into a smile, the first real smile they'd seen. "I always knew," he whispered. "I always knew my real parents would come."

Camille pulled him into a hug, and Dominic wrapped his arms around both of them. For a moment, the world outside faded away.

But the storm was far from over. Edward was still out there, and he wasn't going to give up without a fight.