“What does --"

"Just please, answer the question?"

Madison looked really perplexed.

“December 14th."

“William, I --" Meghan started again, but if her husband's earlier words had been cold, his gaze was now shooting hellfire.

"What . . . year?" he asked, his voice controlled and pressurized like a volcano.

"1987."

Without any warning, William Hannity whipped his head around and put his face just inches away from his wife.

"Not this," he hissed.

"Don't tell me you did this."

“There is no proof —

"Where were you born?" William said, returning to his attention to Madison.

“I don't know the name of the hospital," she said, taking a step back.

"Somewhere in Dallas I think. Then I guess they shipped me off to New Orleans."

“Why would they ship a newborn to another state for foster care?"

Heda asked.

Edgar was cluing in.

"They wouldn't. Not unless a lot of strings were pulled. And not unless they really didn't want that baby to be around."

"I should have known," Mr. Hannity muttered.

"How could you , this is beyond anything else you could have ever done," he told his wife. He withdrew from her. The room had gone dead quiet as he turned to Madison, looking at her with sorrowful eyes.

"I was out of the country that day," he whispered.

“She went into labor but but she called me after and told me the baby had died."

Everyone's eyes were opening wide, and Heda looked over at Madison, whose brain was not quite processing this.

"I wanted to see the body... just so I could say goodbye to her, but Meghan said it would be too hard. She said that the child had come out deformed and --" His eyes opened wider.

"You even look like her," he whispered to Madison.