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“Sir, I found your son beside the dumpster outside your mansion,” a soaking wet little girl said as she handed over a crying baby wrapped in a black trash bag. The billionaire, declared sterile twelve years earlier, didn’t panic. He stared into the child’s eyes and asked, “Who sent you here to play this sick game?” The little girl pointed a trembling finger at the top of the grand staircase, whispering, “The lady who told us to throw him away.”

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textile warehouse downtown, ever since her grandmother, Florence, had suffered a massive coronary failure and was swallowed by the chaotic maw of the city’s emergency ward.

Mrs. Mabel, her hands moving with practiced, frantic grace, stripped the sodden layers away from the infant. A newborn. His skin was mottled, his cries a weak, reedy protest against continue reading …

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