A relinquishment.
Listing our daughter as stillborn on the copy shown to me — and as a live infant surrendered for private placement on the copy filed with Meadowbrook.
Two versions of the same night.
One for me. One for the money.
“She’s alive,” I said. It wasn’t a question. I’d known since “the crying one,” but hearing Ruth lay out the paper made it real in a way that buckled my knees.
“We have strong reason to believe so,” Ruth said carefully. “And Mrs. Bennett — there’s a window here. These placements have a legal probationary period before they finalize. If we move now, with the police and child services, before the finalization date—”
“When is the finalization date?”
Ruth looked at her file.
“Nine days.”
Nine days.
My daughter had been alive for two weeks, somewhere in this state, and I had nine days to prove it before a forged signature made it permanent.
