Right after delivery, my husband smirked at the newborn: “We need a DNA test to be sure it’s mine.” I held the baby tightly, tears in my eyes, and whispered, “Fine, let’s do it.” Days later, the doctor stared at the lab results with a pale face and said, “Ma’am, call the police right now.”

the reality crashing down on me. The whimpering we heard had been an echo, or perhaps the final sound before they were moved. “The loading dock. The man said the transport van was at the loading dock.”

I grabbed Megan by the shoulders, hauling her to her feet. “They are moving them right now. We have to intercept them.”

Megan’s eyes were wild, feral.continue reading …