At My DIL’s Adoption Party, Her Friend Declared: “That Baby Shouldn’t Be Here”

Rising Suspicions

Andrew returned looking troubled.

“That was weird. The attorney’s office said they received a request for our adoption files from someone claiming to be conducting a welfare check. They wanted to confirm we hadn’t initiated it.”

Melissa came down the stairs, her expression sharp.

“A welfare check from whom?”

“They didn’t say. Just wanted to verify it wasn’t from us.”

“It wasn’t,”

Melissa said firmly.

“Someone’s fishing for information about our family.”

Her eyes slid to me for just a fraction of a second, and in that moment, I knew she suspected me. Or at least suspected someone close to the situation was asking questions.

“How strange,”

I managed.

“Who would do such a thing?”

“I can think of one person,”

Melissa said coldly.

“Cassandra called me this morning. Asked some very pointed questions about where we found Sophie. I told her it was none of her business, but clearly, she’s not letting this go.”

My blood ran cold. Cassandra had contacted them directly? What was she thinking?

“Why would she care?”

Andrew asked, confused.

“Jealousy,”

Melissa said simply.

“She’s always been competitive with me, and now that she’s divorced and childless, she can’t stand to see me happy. She’s trying to create problems where none exist.”

The way she said it—so calm, so rational—made it sound absolutely plausible. Andrew nodded, buying the explanation completely.

But I saw the steel beneath Melissa’s pleasant expression. This was a warning, delivered through Cassandra but meant for anyone who might question her.

I left shortly after, my mind reeling. In my car, I pulled out my phone and looked at the photos I’d taken of the adoption documents.

Something about them felt wrong, but I couldn’t quite identify what. I needed help. Professional help.

Someone who could examine these documents and tell me if they were legitimate or forgeries. But who could I trust?

As I drove home through the gathering dusk, my phone rang—an unknown number.

“Mrs. Fields, this is Detective Leona Meyer with Cedar Ridge Police. I need to speak with you about a matter concerning your daughter-in-law’s recent adoption. Would you be available to meet tomorrow morning?”

The world tilted sideways.

“How did you—Why are you—”

I stammered.

“Someone filed a complaint this afternoon, ma’am. An anonymous tip suggesting irregularities in the adoption. Since you’re listed as an emergency contact for the child, I need to interview you. Can you come to the station at 9:00 a.m.?”

I gripped the steering wheel with my free hand.

“Yes. Yes, I’ll be there.”

“Good. And Mrs. Fields, don’t discuss this with anyone else in your family. Not yet. Do you understand?”

“I understand.”

The call ended, leaving me alone with my racing thoughts and the terrible knowledge that whatever I’d set in motion was now spiraling beyond my control. Someone had called the police. Cassandra? The barista? Someone else entirely?

And tomorrow morning, I’d have to decide how much truth to tell a detective about my own family’s secrets. Secrets I was only beginning to understand myself.

I pulled into my driveway as full darkness fell, the farmhouse windows dark and unwelcoming. Inside, I’d be alone with my thoughts and fears, counting down the hours until I had to face questions I didn’t know how to answer.

But one thing had become crystal clear: I was now part of this investigation, whether I wanted to be or not. And the secrets I uncovered might destroy everything my family had built.

The Darker Side of Desperation

I didn’t sleep that night. Instead, I sat at my kitchen table until 3:00 in the morning, studying the photographs I’d taken of the adoption documents on my phone.

Zooming in on every detail, every signature, every stamp. Something was wrong with them; I could feel it in my bones.

The way I used to sense when Andrew was lying to me as a boy. But I couldn’t identify exactly what.

At 7:00 a.m., I gave up on sleep entirely and made strong coffee. My appointment with Detective Meyer was at 9:00, and I needed to decide what I was going to say.

The truth could destroy my son’s happiness, but lies could destroy an innocent young woman’s life and possibly put Sophie in danger. If this adoption was truly illegal.

I was still wrestling with my conscience when my doorbell rang at 8:15. Cassandra stood on my porch, her face pale and drawn, dark circles under her eyes.

“We need to talk,”

She said without preamble.

“Before you go to the police.”

My stomach dropped.

“How did you know about that?”

“Because I’m the one who called them.”

She pushed past me into the house, her movements jerky and agitated.

“I had to, Mrs. Fields. After Melissa called me yesterday and threatened me.”

“She threatened you?”

I asked. Cassandra laughed bitterly.

“Oh, she was very careful about it. Very lawyerly. She said if I continued spreading malicious rumors about her family, she’d sue me for defamation and make sure I never worked in this town again. She has connections, Mrs. Fields. She could do it.”

I closed the door slowly, my mind racing.

“So you went to the police.”

“I filed an anonymous complaint, but then I couldn’t sleep. Couldn’t stop thinking about what I’d done. So I’m here to tell you the complete truth before you talked to that detective.”

She met my eyes, and what I saw there made my blood run cold.

“Because there’s more things I didn’t tell you at the party.”

My legs felt weak. I sank into a chair.

“What things?”

Cassandra sat across from me, her hands twisting together.

“After I saw Melissa with that woman at the cafe, I became obsessed with finding out the truth. I know I shouldn’t have, but I—I followed Melissa multiple times over the next week.”

“You followed her?”

I whispered.

“I saw her meet with the same young woman twice more. Different locations each time. Once at a park, once in the parking lot of a grocery store. And each time, the woman looked more desperate, more frightened.”

She continued.

“The last time I saw them, Melissa handed her what looked like medication. Pills in an unmarked bottle.”

The room seemed to tilt.

“What kind of medication?”

“I don’t know, but the woman took them right there. Swallowed them dry. And Melissa told her—I heard her say this clearly—’This will help you forget. Make everything easier. Just a few more days and you’ll never have to think about this again.'”

My hand flew to my mouth.

“She was drugging her.”

“I think so. I think Melissa was giving her something to keep her compliant. Maybe anxious medications or sedatives. Something to keep her from thinking clearly or changing her mind.”

Cassandra’s voice broke.

“And then, three days before the adoption party, I saw the woman one last time. She was walking near the bus station, looking completely lost. No baby, no diaper bag. Just wandering around like she didn’t know where she was or what she was doing.”

“Did you talk to her?”

I asked.

“I tried. I approached her, asked if she was okay. She looked at me like she didn’t even see me. Her eyes were completely vacant, Mrs. Fields. Like she’d been—I don’t know—broken somehow.”

She paused.

“When I asked about the baby, she started crying and walked away. I followed her to an apartment building on the east side of town. The run-down complex near the old textile mill.”

I grabbed a pen and paper.

“Which building?”

“Riverside Apartments. Unit 2C. But Mrs. Fields, you need to understand something else.”

Cassandra leaned forward urgently.

*”I did some research. Happy Beginnings Adoption Services—it’s a shell company. The address listed is a UPS Store mailbox. The phone number goes to a disconnected line. The website was created four months ago and has no client testimonials, no staff listings, no actual office location.”

The coffee I’d drunk earlier threatened to come back up.

“Melissa created a fake adoption agency.”

“I think she created the paperwork to make everything look legitimate, yes. But I don’t think there was ever any real agency involved. I think she found a desperate young woman, probably through some online forum or classified ad, and paid her directly for her baby. Then she fabricated all the legal documents to cover her tracks.”

I thought of my daughter-in-law’s sharp legal mind, her attention to detail, her ruthless determination to get what she wanted. Could she really have done something this calculating, this cruel?

“Why are you telling me this now? Why not tell the police directly?”

I asked. Cassandra’s expression turned bitter.

“Because I have no proof. Everything I saw could be explained away. Two women meeting in public, having emotional conversations—that could be anything.”

She sighed.

“The fake agency? Melissa could claim she was scammed by someone else who set it up. Without the young woman’s testimony, without those pills tested, without any paper trail connecting Melissa to illegal activity, it’s just my word against a respected attorney’s.”

“So what do you want from me?”

“Find that woman, Nelly. Go to that apartment today before your police interview. Get her to talk. Get her to tell the truth about what happened.”

She met my gaze intensely.

“If she testifies, if she confirms that Melissa coerced her and drugged her, then the police will have to investigate. Then there will be consequences.”

I looked at this woman I’d known for years and saw something in her face I didn’t like. Something hungry and vindictive beneath the concern.

“Cassandra, why do you care so much, really?”

Her mask slipped for just a moment, and I saw raw pain underneath.

“Because Melissa has everything I wanted. The husband, the career, the baby. And she got it through lying and manipulation, while I lost everything by playing by the rules.”

She looked away.

“My marriage failed because we couldn’t have children. I followed every legal avenue, tried every treatment, and ended up divorced and alone. And she just bought a baby like it was a piece of property.”

There it was. The truth beneath the righteous concern. Cassandra wasn’t doing this purely out of moral outrage; she was doing it partly out of jealousy and pain.

But that didn’t mean she was wrong about what Melissa had done.

“I’ll think about it,”

I said carefully.

“But I won’t lie to the police, Cassandra. If they ask me direct questions, I’ll answer honestly.”

“Fair enough.”

She stood to leave, then paused at the door.

“Mrs. Fields, be careful. Melissa is smarter than both of us, and she has a lot to lose. People do dangerous things when they’re cornered.”

The Face of Truth

After she left, I sat in my kitchen for a long time, watching the clock tick toward 9:00 a.m. I had 30 minutes to decide my next move.

Finally, I made my choice. I called Detective Meyer’s number.

“Detective, this is Meline Fields. I need to postpone our meeting. Something’s come up.”

“Mrs. Fields, this is a police investigation. You can’t just—”

“I have information about the birth mother’s location. I need a few hours to verify it. Can we meet at 2:00 p.m. instead?”

A pause.

“What kind of information?”

“An address. Riverside Apartments, Unit 2C. I believe the birth mother may still be in town and possibly in distress.”

“How did you obtain this address?”

“I’d prefer to explain everything in person, Detective. But if that young woman is being exploited or harmed, every hour matters, doesn’t it?”

Another pause, longer this time.

“2:00 p.m., Mrs. Fields. My office. Don’t make me regret this.”

I hung up and grabbed my purse. The Riverside Apartments were on the opposite side of town in a neighborhood I rarely visited. The kind of place where people minded their own business and didn’t ask questions.

The drive took 20 minutes through morning traffic. The apartment complex was exactly as depressing as I’d imagined: three stories of weathered brick and peeling paint, overgrown landscaping, and cars in various states of disrepair parked haphazardly in the lot.

Unit 2C was on the second floor. I climbed the outdoor stairs slowly, my heart hammering, rehearsing what I’d say. How do you approach a stranger and ask if they’ve been coerced into giving up their baby?

I knocked softly. No answer. I knocked again, louder.

“Hello? My name is Meline Fields. I’m not here to cause trouble. I just want to talk.”

Silence. But I heard movement inside—a soft scraping sound like someone trying to be quiet.

“Please. It’s about your baby. About Melissa.”

The door opened a crack, the security chain still attached. A young woman’s face appeared in the gap—thin, pale, with dark circles under red-rimmed eyes.

Blonde hair pulled back in a messy ponytail. She matched Cassandra’s description perfectly.

“Who are you?”

Her voice was hoarse and suspicious.

“I’m Melissa’s mother-in-law. I know about the adoption. I know she paid you. I think she may have threatened you or coerced you. I want to help.”

“There’s nothing to help with. It’s done. Just leave me alone.”

She started to close the door.