Chapter 12 - The Cold Cell
Federal Correctional Institution Dublin was a bleak, concrete fortress completely surrounded by razor wire and heavily armed watchtowers.
Mark sat alone in the sterile visitor's room, gripping the edge of the cold steel table so tightly his knuckles turned completely white.
He had spent the last three weeks pulling every legal string Sarah had at her disposal just to secure this brief fifteen-minute interview.
The heavy metal door slammed open, and Dr. Naomi Patel walked in wearing a bright orange jumpsuit that starkly contrasted with her cold, calculating demeanor.
She sat across from him with a smug, unrepentant smirk playing on her lips, looking completely unbothered by her bleak surroundings.
Mark did not waste any time with fake pleasantries or small talk.
He slammed a crumpled copy of the genetic blood test results onto the center of the metal table.
He aggressively demanded to know where his real daughter was and who the decoy baby they had been raising actually belonged to.
Dr. Patel barely even glanced at the paper, letting out a soft, mocking laugh as if they were simply discussing the weather.
She leaned back in her uncomfortable chair and actually commended Mark for finally figuring out the truth.
She noted with cruel amusement that it took him much longer to solve the puzzle than she had originally anticipated.
The disgraced doctor explained her flawless master plan with a chilling calmness that made Mark’s blood run cold.
The wealthy international diplomat she had mentioned on the airstrip had paid five million dollars in untraceable funds for a healthy newborn.
When Emily was brought into the emergency room for her C-section, Dr. Patel saw the absolute perfect opportunity to fulfill her contract.
She delivered all three girls safely, keeping Emily heavily sedated so she would not hear the third cry.
She handed the third baby over to the diplomat's private medical team within minutes of the infant taking her very first breath.
To cover her tracks and give Mark a child to desperately find, she had purchased an unwanted newborn from a drug-addicted patient at a free clinic she ran on the side.
That innocent, purchased baby was the child they had named Hope.
Mark violently lunged across the table, his hands desperately trying to reach her throat, but the heavy chains connecting Patel to the floor held her safely back.
A massive prison guard immediately placed a heavy hand on Mark's shoulder, loudly threatening to end the visit if he moved again.
Mark forced himself back into his seat, his chest heaving with uncontrollable rage as he stared at the monster sitting across from him.
He begged her for the name of the diplomat, promising he would do absolutely anything she wanted.
He frantically offered to put money in her prison commissary, to hire her better appellate lawyers, or to secure her transfer to a better facility.
Dr. Patel leaned forward, her dark eyes gleaming with pure malice and twisted satisfaction.
She whispered that money was completely useless to her now, and she had absolutely no intention of helping the man who had put her in a cage.
She told him that his real daughter was living a life of absolute luxury in a foreign country, far beyond anything Mark could ever provide.
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As the armed guards pulled her out of the chair to take her back to her cell, she left him with one agonizing clue.
She told him to look deeply into the private donors of the Geneva Global Initiative, a charity event held the exact night his entire world fell apart.
