Chapter 13 - Sophie
Sophie Hawthorne agreed to meet.
She arrived with a security escort and a lawyer.
She looked calm.
Too calm.
Joanna understood immediately.
Sophie had been living with uncertainty for most of her life too.
“My parents told me I was adopted.”
Joanna said nothing.
“They said my biological family abandoned me.”
Sophie smiled sadly.
“I never believed them.”
“Why?”
“Because my adoptive mother was terrible at lying.”
Joanna almost smiled.
Sophie continued.
“She cried every birthday.”
“She kept a photograph of a woman she said I was never allowed to ask about.”
“Who?”
“My biological mother.”
“Do you know her name?”
Sophie nodded.
“Marissa.”
Joanna stared.
Marissa's daughter.
The missing child.
The network had not succeeded in erasing her completely.
Sophie had found her own way to the truth.
“How did you find us?”
Sophie held up a letter.
“Someone sent this.”
“Who?”
“I don't know.”
“Did they say why?”
“They said the people who stole me were gone.”
“And that I was helping families like mine.”
Joanna frowned.
“Did you believe them?”
“I wanted to.”
Sophie looked down.
“That was my mistake.”
“Why?”
“Because the letter also contained information nobody outside your foundation should know.”
Joanna felt cold.
“Your location?”
“No.”
“Your family?”
“Something else.”
Sophie placed a photograph on the table.
It showed Noah.
Taken outside their house.
Joanna's blood froze.
“Where did you get this?”
“It came with the letter.”
Logan stood immediately.
“Who took it?”
“I don't know.”
Joanna stared at the image.
There was no question.
Someone had re-entered their lives.
The original network had collapsed.
But someone had inherited its secrets.
And now they were using the foundation.
Rebecca began an emergency review.
The anonymous donor who had infiltrated the organization years earlier had been exposed.
But their access had been duplicated.
Another person had obtained copies.
The foundation's encrypted archives were compromised.
Joanna felt responsible.
“I should have shut everything down.”
Logan shook his head.
“You can't protect everyone by becoming afraid of everyone.”
“I have to protect Noah.”
“And we will.”
That afternoon, Sophie revealed something else.
Her adoptive father had kept a ledger.
The ledger listed payments made before each adoption.
Most entries were coded.
But one name appeared repeatedly.
The Bellamy Group.
Joanna recognized the name from another case.
The Bellamy Group had recently bought several properties around Mercy Creek.
Including the building where the foundation planned to open its second center.
Joanna immediately called the board.
The property transaction was frozen.
Then a call came.
A lawyer representing the Bellamy Group demanded that the foundation vacate.
Joanna refused.
The lawyer threatened litigation.
Joanna answered:
“Take us to court.”
The next morning, construction crews arrived.
Then disappeared.
Workers were being paid to leave.
Someone was trying to isolate the foundation.
The message was clear.
Stop investigating.
Joanna refused.
She called a press conference.
She publicly announced that the foundation had uncovered evidence of a historic identity-manipulation network spanning decades.
Within hours, national media picked up the story.
The Bellamy Group denied everything.
Then Sophie came forward.
She stood beside Joanna.
“I was told I had died.”
“I did not.”
“I was told my mother abandoned me.”
“She did not.”
“I am here because someone changed my identity.”
The story went nationwide.
Families began contacting the foundation again.
Not because they trusted institutions.
Because they trusted Joanna.
That night, an unknown caller reached her phone.
A man's voice said:
“You've made a mistake.”
Joanna asked:
“Who are you?”
The man laughed softly.
“You've spent years finding the people who carried out the crimes.”
“But you've never asked who owns the money.”
The line ended.
Joanna stared at the phone.
Then she looked at Logan.
“Who owns the money?”
He shook his head.
“I don't know.”
Rebecca walked into the room carrying a file.
“I think I do.”
She placed it on the table.
The front page contained one name.
The Ashford Foundation.
A charitable organization controlled by some of the wealthiest families in the country.
The same foundation had donated millions to Mercy Creek decades earlier.
And one of its trustees was still alive.
His name:
Edward Hawthorne.
Sophie stared at the page.
“That was my father.”
Joanna looked at her.
“You were told he was dead too?”
Sophie nodded.
“He died when I was six.”
Rebecca's expression hardened.
“No.”
May you like
“He didn't.”
The room went silent.
