Six Bikers Walked Out Of The Maternity Ward With My Dead Sister’s Newborn Baby

My son will grow up knowing his father was a hero. Knowing he’s part of a brotherhood that protects the vulnerable. Knowing he’s loved by sixty uncles who would die for him.

Please don’t fight this. Please don’t take him from the only family Marcus had. They promised to love him. They promised to tell him about his daddy. They promised to raise him right.

I named him Marcus Jr. After his father. The man who saved my life and gave me the only real love I ever knew.

I love you, Cat. I’m sorry I kept secrets. I’m sorry I wasn’t honest. But this is what I want. This is what’s best for my baby.

Let him go. Let him be a Guardian.

Your sister always, Sarah

I read the letter three times. Each time, the words cut deeper.

My sister had been homeless. Had been an addict. Had been prostituting herself to survive. And I hadn’t known. Hadn’t been there. Hadn’t helped.

A motorcycle club had done what I should have done.

I called the police anyway. Told them bikers had taken my nephew. But when the officers arrived and saw the custody paperwork, they said there was nothing they could do.

“Ma’am, this is a legally binding document. Your sister designated these men as guardians. Unless you want to contest it in court…”

“I do. I want to contest it. That baby belongs with family.”

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