Chapter 2 - THE PAPERS NEIL SIGNED
I drove the formula to Cascade Food Safety Laboratory the next morning.
Neil did not come with me.
He said he needed to speak to Whitney privately, which meant she wanted time to explain the evidence before anyone else could.
At the laboratory, a technician named Rebecca Sloan photographed the container before breaking the seal.
“This was definitely opened,” she said.
“Can you test what’s inside?”
“For bacteria, heavy metals, common medications, allergens, and chemical contaminants. A complete screening takes several days.”
“I have a five-month-old.”
Rebecca looked toward the carrier beside my chair.
Micah slept with one fist beneath his chin.
Her expression softened.
“I’ll prioritize the preliminary panel.”
She called me four hours later.
“Do not allow anyone to use that powder.”
I pulled my car onto the shoulder of Highway 18.
“What did you find?”
“It isn’t commercially manufactured infant formula.”
“What is it?”
“A formula base mixed with at least one prescription compound. We’re still identifying it.”
My fingers tightened around the steering wheel.
“Could it hurt a baby?”
Rebecca paused.
“It could cause dangerous sedation, low blood pressure, and breathing problems in an infant.”
Trucks rushed past my window.
“Are you sure?”
“Our preliminary result is strong. There’s something else. The powder contains high levels of cow’s-milk protein.”
Whitney knew about Micah’s intolerance.
She had been sitting beside me when the pediatrician explained it.
“Mrs. Duncan, the lot markings on your can resemble evidence in an ongoing counterfeit nutrition investigation. We are legally required to report this.”
“To whom?”
“The FDA’s criminal investigators and the FBI task force assisting them.”
When I returned home, Neil was in his office.
Whitney sat behind his desk.
She had removed her red coat and folded it neatly over the chair, as if my house belonged to her.
“Where is Micah?” she asked.
“With my friend Dana.”
Her lips thinned.
“You gave my grandson to a stranger?”
“Dana has been my friend for twelve years.”
“That doesn’t make her family.”
“Neither does sharing DNA.”
Neil stood.
“Can we not do this?”
I handed him the laboratory’s preliminary report.
“The powder contains prescription medication.”
He read the first page.
Whitney remained perfectly still.
“That’s impossible,” Neil said.
“The lab confirmed it twice.”
“Then the supplier made a mistake.”
“Your mother hasn’t named the supplier.”
Whitney rose slowly.
“Are you accusing me of trying to poison my grandson?”
“I’m asking where you got the cans.”
“Through my foundation.”
“From whom?”
“Our purchasing director.”
“Name?”
“I don’t answer interrogations in my son’s house.”
“It’s my house too.”
Whitney glanced at Neil.
“For now.”
The words hung between us.
I looked at my husband.
“What does that mean?”
Neil rubbed his forehead.
“Nothing.”
Whitney picked up her coat.
“Show her.”
“Mom.”
“She deserves to know what her behavior is costing her.”
Neil opened the bottom drawer of his desk and removed a blue folder.
Inside was a petition requesting temporary guardianship of Micah.
Whitney Duncan was listed as the proposed guardian.
The document described me as emotionally unstable, dangerously controlling, and resistant to medical advice.
My husband’s signature appeared on the final page.
“You signed this?”
“It wasn’t supposed to be filed.”
“Then why does it exist?”
“Mom’s attorney prepared it after you refused to let her visit Micah alone.”
“You signed a custody petition because I wouldn’t leave our baby with her?”
“It’s an emergency backup.”
“An emergency caused by whom?”
Whitney stepped closer.
“You have isolated Neil from his family. You reject every suggestion. You behave as if motherhood makes you medically qualified.”
“Micah’s doctor told us not to use formula.”
“Doctors can be persuaded to support anxious mothers.”
“And laboratories?”
For the first time, uncertainty moved across her face.
“What exactly did they tell you?”
I did not answer.
Neil placed the petition on his desk.
“Adriana, I should have told you.”
“You threatened to file for custody because I threw away contaminated powder.”
“I was angry.”
“You already signed the papers.”
His face crumpled.
“I thought you were becoming paranoid.”
“Who told you that?”
He looked at Whitney.
That was my answer.
My phone buzzed.
Rebecca had sent another message.
Federal investigators need the remaining cans preserved. Do not alert the person who supplied them.
Whitney watched my face.
“Who is texting you?”
I locked the screen.
“Someone who doesn’t need your permission to protect my son.”
She moved toward me, but Neil stepped between us.
“Mom, go home.”
“You’re choosing her?”
His eyes dropped.
Whitney smiled.
She already knew he had not.
“Call me when you remember who stood by you before she arrived,” she said.
Then she walked out.
I waited until the front door closed.
“You need to leave too.”
Neil stared at me.
“This is my home.”
“You signed papers to take my child out of it.”
May you like
“Our child.”
“Then start acting like his father.”
