Chapter 12 - The Children Nobody Counted
There were thirty-seven names on Charles Wynn’s list. Lily was number thirty-seven.
Sister Margaret recognized thirteen immediately. Children adopted from Saint Agnes during the previous ten years.
Sarah spread the documents across a police conference table.
“Why would a corporate attorney track orphaned children?”
Marcus answered. “Trusts.”
Jonathan looked at him. “What?”
“Many wealthy clients use private adoption.”
Amelia’s face hardened. “Say what you mean.”
Marcus sighed. “Some wanted heirs.”
Jonathan stared. “You’re suggesting children were selected for rich families?”
Sarah said, “We don’t know.”
Sister Margaret looked sick. “I approved those adoptions.”
“You followed court orders,” Sarah said.
“I handed children to people.”
“You believed they were safe.”
“Were they?”
No one answered.
They checked. Most were. Three had disappeared from records after adoption. One died under suspicious circumstances. One was returned to foster care under a different name.
Jonathan’s voice turned cold. “Find every child.”
Sarah nodded. “Already happening.”
Amelia found another pattern. “These families.”
“What?”
“They’re Beaumont clients.”
Jonathan stared. “Charles handled their estates.”
“Yes.”
Eleanor, released pending further questioning, joined them.
“He was creating heirs.”
Sarah frowned. “For what?”
“Money movement.”
Eleanor explained. A child adopted into a trust could legally receive assets without triggering certain inheritance disputes. Charles used vulnerable children as financial instruments.
Jonathan felt ill. Lily had nearly become one.
“Was that why she was abandoned?”
Sister Margaret whispered, “Maybe she wasn’t supposed to remain at Saint Agnes.”
Everyone turned.
“What?”
“Evelyn said someone would pick her up.”
Sarah nodded. “So Lily was intended for a private adoption.”
Amelia covered her mouth. “Whose family?”
Marcus checked Charles’s files. One folder was password protected.
LILY CARTER - PLACEMENT.
They cracked it.
Jonathan read the name.
ROBERT BEAUMONT.
His brother.
“No.”
Robert was brought in. He looked tired.
“You tried to adopt Lily?”
He stared at Jonathan. “I tried to protect her.”
“You knew who she was.”
“Yes.”
“For how long?”
“From the beginning.”
Jonathan nearly struck him. Amelia stepped between them.
“Why?”
Robert looked at her. “Your mother told me.”
Eleanor froze. “What?”
Robert nodded. “You called me after the plane crash.”
“I did not.”
He stared. “Yes, you did.”
Again. Fake calls. Fake voices. Someone had been manipulating everyone.
Robert continued. “The caller said Lily was Amelia’s child and needed to disappear legally.”
Amelia went pale. “So you arranged adoption?”
“Yes.”
“Why didn’t it happen?”
“Charles blocked it.”
Jonathan frowned. “Why would Charles stop his own plan?”
Robert laughed. “Because I wasn’t his chosen family.”
“Who was?”
Robert looked at the file. “I never knew.”
Sarah searched deeper. A deleted entry.
PLACEMENT TARGET: WYNN FAMILY.
Charles wanted Lily.
Jonathan stared. “For himself?”
“No,” Sarah said. “For his son.”
Charles had one son. Peter Wynn. Age thirty-four. Unmarried. No children.
Amelia went still. “I know Peter.”
Jonathan looked. “How?”
“He helped us escape.”
Everyone froze.
“Peter Wynn?”
“Yes.”
“Charles’s son?”
“Yes.”
“He told me he hated his father.”
Sarah frowned. “Where is he now?”
Amelia whispered, “Dead.”
Of course.
Except no death certificate existed. Peter Wynn had vanished seven years ago. The same week.
Marcus looked at Sister Margaret. “Your nephew was named Peter.”
She stared. “Peter Holloway.”
Sarah’s eyes widened. “Claire’s son.”
Everyone went silent.
Two Peters. Or one?
Sister Margaret sat down. “Claire never told me who Peter’s father was.”
Jonathan looked toward Eleanor. She already understood.
“Charles.”
Margaret’s face drained. “Charles Wynn was my sister’s lover?”
Eleanor nodded slowly. “I think so.”
They pulled birth records. Peter Holloway’s certificate had no father listed. Photographs compared with Charles at the same age. Same eyes. Same jaw.
Amelia whispered. “Peter knew.”
Sarah said, “If Peter was Charles’s son, Charles may have intended Lily to become his legal granddaughter.”
Jonathan stared. “Why?”
Eleanor answered. “To inherit Beaumont money.”
Through Lily. Charles could use his son and Lily to connect himself permanently to the Beaumont fortune. A monstrous family merger.
Jonathan looked at Amelia. “Did Peter love you?”
She looked down. “Yes.”
The room froze.
Jonathan’s voice changed. “What?”
Amelia closed her eyes. “Before David.”
She continued. “Peter and I dated secretly.”
Jonathan stared. “Why secretly?”
“Because you hated Charles.”
“I hated his billing rates.”
“Dad.”
“Sorry.”
“Peter broke it off.”
“Why?”
“He said his father had plans for us.”
Jonathan’s stomach turned. Charles had been engineering relationships. Again.
Amelia looked at the evidence. “Peter disappeared after helping me expose him.”
Sarah said, “Maybe he didn’t die.”
No one wanted to hope. Hope had become dangerous.
Then a call came from Boston police. They found one of the missing Saint Agnes children. Alive. A twelve-year-old boy named Samuel.
He had one message. “For Mr. Beaumont.”
Jonathan took the phone.
The boy’s voice trembled. “The man who adopted me said if you ever found Lily, I should tell you the gold ring has a third copy.”
Jonathan stared.
A third ring.
“Who told you that?”
May you like
The boy whispered. “Peter.”
Sister Margaret insisted on reading every name. She recognized birthdays, allergies, favorite toys, children who had once cried in her office because they were afraid their new parents would not like them. “I told them adoption meant somebody chose them,” she whispered. “What if some of these people chose them for money?” Sarah said, “Most of the placements appear legitimate.” “Most is not a comforting word when you are counting children.” Jonathan watched Margaret carefully turn pages. Wealth had trained him to think in percentages. She thought in names. Samuel. Chloe. Mateo. June. Lily. He understood suddenly why institutions became cruel even without cruel people: numbers allowed distance. “We find every one,” he said. Sarah replied, “That will take months.” “Then it takes months.” “Some may not want to know.” Amelia looked at him. “That matters.” He nodded. “Then we offer, not force.” Another lesson. Robert, still furious at being treated as a suspect, sat near the end of the table. Lily wandered in and looked at him. “Are you the uncle?” He blinked. “Apparently.” “Were you going to adopt me?” Robert’s face crumpled. No one knew who had told her. Children heard everything. “I tried.” “Why?” “Because I thought you needed a home.” Lily looked around at Sister Margaret, Amelia, and Jonathan. “I had one.” Robert swallowed. “I know that now.” She considered him, then handed him a purple crayon. “You can color.” Robert Beaumont, former chairman of a multinational corporation, accepted it without argument. Jonathan nearly laughed. The scene lasted thirty seconds before Sarah’s phone rang with Boston’s discovery of Samuel. When the boy mentioned a third ring and Peter’s name, Sister Margaret dropped the page she was holding. “My Peter?” she whispered. Amelia closed her eyes. Hope entered the room again, unwelcome and irresistible.
