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

The nursery was beautiful. Soft blue walls with painted motorcycles. A wooden crib with Marcus Jr. sleeping peacefully inside. Photos everywhere—Sarah smiling, Sarah pregnant, Sarah with these bikers who I’d assumed were criminals.

One photo caught my attention. Sarah in a hospital gown, clearly very pregnant, surrounded by all six of these men. They were all wearing paper party hats. A banner behind them said “Baby Shower for Marcus Jr.”

“That was two weeks before the delivery,” Thomas said softly. “She was so happy that day. She said she finally knew what family felt like.”

I started crying. Couldn’t stop myself.

“I should have been there,” I sobbed. “I should have known. I should have helped her.”

Thomas put a massive hand on my shoulder. “You can be here now. That’s what Sarah wanted. She didn’t leave you that letter to push you away. She left it to bring you in.”

I looked at him through my tears. “What do you mean?”

He pulled out another envelope. This one was addressed to Thomas.

“She wrote me a letter too. Said when you were ready, when you understood, I should show it to you.”

I opened it with trembling hands.

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