My Husband Pushed for Us to Adopt a 4-Year-Old Girl with Down Syndrome – Then I Overheard His Conversation Through the Baby Monitor, and My Blood Ran Cold

Downstairs, I pulled the big rolling suitcase out of the pantry closet where we kept it.

Then I pulled down the two smaller ones we used for the kids.

I pulled the big rolling suitcase out.

I moved through the house on autopilot.

Miranda’s ballet leotards. James’s inhaler. The little stuffed elephant Miranda still slept with, even though she said she didn’t. I packed underwear, socks, chargers, and the kids’ toothbrushes from the guest bathroom.

My hands were shaking so hard I dropped the toothbrush cup twice.

“Think, Mary,” I whispered to myself. “Just think.”

I couldn’t.

I packed underwear.

My brain kept skipping like a scratched record.

She doesn’t suspect a thing. I have Adele. Our plan worked.

Who was on the other end of the phone? A woman? A man? Someone who wanted Adele back? Someone who wanted money? Someone who’d been coaching my husband through the biggest deception of our marriage?

I zipped all the suitcases.

Who was on the other end?

I stood in the entryway in my pajamas with three bags lined up by the front door, my car keys already in my fist, and I looked up at the stairs.

James’s room was on the left. Miranda’s was on the right. Adele’s little door was at the end, just past the bathroom, the one with the paper butterfly Miranda had taped up to welcome her.

I could get my children out in 10 minutes.

My sister lived 40 minutes away. She’d open the door in her robe and ask no questions until morning.

I could get my children out.

But Adele.