Chapter 20: The Doctor

Finding Dr. Thorne wasn't about finding a person. It was about finding a paper trail. The man himself was "retired"—a polite euphemism for hiding in a gated community in Boca Raton, paid for by the Sterling Trust. I couldn't get to him. Not yet.

But I could get to his history.

I spent the next two hours in my car, parked outside the library, using the Wi-Fi to scour public records. I needed to know where *Baby Girl Thorne* came from.

Dr. Aris Thorne. Obstetrics and Gynecology. Practice closed in 1995. The same year Edith’s husband died. The same year the Trust was restructured.

I searched for birth announcements. Nothing for a Thorne in June 1988.

I searched for death certificates. Nothing.

Then I searched for property records. In 1989, a year after I was born, Thorne paid off his mortgage. In cash.

I dug deeper, looking for court filings. Thorne had been sued for malpractice twice in the eighties. Both cases were settled out of court. Sealed.

But there was a third case. A paternity suit filed in 1987.

*Plaintiff: Maria Elena Rodriguez.*

*Defendant: Aris Thorne.*

The case was dismissed "with prejudice" three months later. Maria Elena Rodriguez disappeared from the public record after that. No death certificate. No marriage license. Just gone.

I looked at the date of the suit. 1987. I was born in 1988.

If Maria Elena was my mother... and Thorne was my father...

I wasn't just a transaction. I was a problem. A complication Thorne needed to disappear.

And Edith needed a girl.

I closed my laptop. My hands were steady now. The shock had burned off, leaving a cold, hard clarity. Edith hadn't "saved" me. She had done a favor for a business partner. She took the doctor's bastard child off his hands, and in exchange, he forged the death certificate for Clara's son.

It was a perfect circle of corruption.

I checked the time. 10:00 a.m. The housekeeper for Thorne's old practice still lived in town. I had found her name on a vendor list in the Hoard's financial boxes. *Mrs. Gables. Cleaning services.*

I drove to her house. It was a small bungalow on the edge of town, the lawn overgrown with dandelions.

I knocked.

An elderly woman answered. She looked at me through the screen door, suspicious.

" Mrs. Gables?"

"Who's asking?"

"My name is Sarah Sterling. I'm... I'm looking for information about Dr. Thorne."

Her face closed up. "He's gone. Been gone for years."

"I know. But I think he might be my father."

The lie tasted bitter, but it worked. Her expression softened, just a fraction. Curiosity battled with caution.

"He had a lot of 'might be' children," she muttered. "Man couldn't keep it in his pants."

"Did he have a daughter born in June 1988? Her mother might have been named Maria."

Mrs. Gables froze. She looked at me, really looked at me. At my dark eyes. My hair.

"Maria," she whispered. "Maria Elena."

"You knew her?"

"She cleaned the office before me," Mrs. Gables said. She pushed the screen door open. "You better come in."

I sat at her kitchen table while she made tea. Her hands shook as she poured the water.

"Maria was a sweet girl," she said. "Too sweet for him. When she got pregnant, he... he panicked. His wife was on the hospital board. A scandal would have ruined him."

"What happened to her?"

Mrs. Gables looked down at her cup. "She went away. To have the baby. Thorne said he arranged a private adoption. Said the girl would be raised rich. Said it was the best thing for her."

"Did she want to give the baby up?"

"No," Mrs. Gables said fiercely. "She wanted that baby. She named her *Sofia*. She talked to her belly every day."

Sofia.

My name wasn't Sarah. It wasn't Baby Girl Doe. It was Sofia.

"So why did she give her up?"

"She didn't," Mrs. Gables said. Her voice dropped to a whisper. "She died. In childbirth. That's what Thorne told us. Hemorrhage. The baby survived, but the mother was gone."

I felt a coldness spread through my chest. "Do you believe him?"

Mrs. Gables looked up. Her eyes were haunted.

"I emptied the trash the next day," she said. "In his private office. There were... files. Shredded. And a prescription pad."

"A prescription pad?"

"For sedatives," she said. "Heavy ones. The kind they used to use for... twilight sleep."

She leaned across the table.

"He didn't take her to a hospital, honey. He delivered that baby right there in the office. I found the... the mess. On the exam table. I cleaned it up."

I stared at her. "He killed her?"

"I don't know," she whispered. "But I know this. A week later, a woman came to the back door. A rich woman. In a big car."

"Edith Sterling," I said.

"She took the baby," Mrs. Gables said. "She took you. And Thorne... he bought a sailboat the next month."

I stood up. I couldn't breathe. The kitchen felt like it was shrinking.

"Thank you," I managed to say. "Thank you for telling me."

"Wait," she said. She got up and went to a drawer near the sink. She rummaged through it and pulled out a small, tarnished object.

"I found this," she said. "In the exam room. Under the table. After they took the body away."

She handed it to me.

It was a locket. Cheap, gold-tone metal. I pried it open with my thumbnail.

Inside was a tiny, folded picture of a woman. She was young, with dark hair and a smile that looked like mine.

"Maria," I whispered.

"If you're her daughter," Mrs. Gables said, "you deserve to know. She didn't leave you. She was erased."

I walked out of the house, clutching the locket. The sun was blinding.

I wasn't just a purchase. I was evidence. I was the living proof of a murder.

And Edith knew. She knew exactly where I came from.

If she couldn't get to the doctor, she'd get to his trash.

I had found the trash. And I had found the treasure buried inside it.

I got back in my car. My phone buzzed.

It was a text from Ben.

*I think I found where Thorne lives. But Sarah... the address is listed under a trust.*

*The Sterling Trust.*

Edith was still paying for him. She was keeping him safe.

Because if he went down, she went down with him.

I put the car in gear. I wasn't going to the Hoard. I wasn't going to the hospital.

I was going to find my father.