Chapter 3: The Night Two Babies Were Born
Liana did not look away from the photograph.
"That woman," she said.
"The one holding the baby.
Who is she?"
Matteo's voice was flat.
"My wife.
Elena."
"And the baby?"
"My son."
"No." Liana's finger moved to the blue wrist tag in the photo.
"That tag.
The font.
The color of the stripe on the edge." She looked up.
"I know that tag because I stared at one exactly like it for six hours.
That tag is from St.
Carmine's maternity ward.
Room 14B."
Matteo said nothing.
"I was in 14A," Liana said.
"The night of October third."
The clock on the far wall ticked four times before Matteo spoke.
"Elena delivered at St.
Carmine's.
October third."
Liana's arms tightened around Nico without meaning to.
"So did I."
The word hung between them like smoke.
Matteo set the photograph on the crib rail.
He stepped back.
His hand went to his jaw.
"You're saying—"
"I'm not saying anything yet." Her voice cracked on the last word.
"I need you to tell me something first.
When Nico was born, did you see the delivery?"
"No.
There were complications.
They took Elena into surgery.
A nurse brought him to me in the corridor."
"Which nurse?"
"I don't remember."
"Was Elena conscious when they handed him to you?"
Matteo's eyes sharpened.
"She was sedated.
She didn't hold him until the following morning."
Liana looked down at Nico.
He had one fist curled against her collarbone, his eyes heavy now, drifting toward sleep.
She studied the shape of his ears.
The small crease at the bridge of his nose.
The way his upper lip curved.
Her son had had that same crease.
"My baby," she said carefully, "was taken to the NICU forty minutes after birth.
Breathing difficulty, they told me.
I never held him again.
They said he didn't make it through the night." Her voice did not break.
It had already broken too many times over twenty-two days to break again here.
"They handed me a form.
A death certificate.
A small box with a hospital bracelet inside."
Matteo stared at her.
"I buried that box," she said.
"Because there was no body to bury.
They told me it was hospital policy in cases of infant loss.
Cremation within twelve hours." She finally looked up.
"I didn't question it.
I was alone.
I was twenty-six years old and I had no one to tell me that wasn't normal."
"Liana—"
"Is it normal, Matteo?
In your experience?
Cremation within twelve hours, no viewing, no second opinion, a form handed to a single mother at two in the morning?"
His jaw tightened.
"No."
"No," she repeated.
Nico made a soft sound.
His fingers uncurled against her chest.
Matteo picked up the photograph again.
He turned it over.
On the back, in small handwriting, were four words and a date.
*In case you forget.
— October 3.*
"Elena wrote this," he said.
"Did she know?"
"I don't know what she knew." He set it down again.
His voice had gone very quiet.
"She died seven months ago.
A car accident.
She never told me anything was wrong."
"But she hid this photograph under his mattress."
"Yes."
"Which means she knew something was wrong."
Matteo looked at her for a long moment.
Then he walked to the door and opened it.
"Marco."
One of the guards stepped in immediately.
"I need Dr.
Ferrante here within the hour.
And I need the full security file on St.
Carmine's hospital from October third of last year.
Every name.
Every staff badge.
Every record." He paused.
"And find out who processed the death certificate for an infant in ward 14A that night."
Marco didn't ask questions.
The door closed.
Matteo turned back to Liana.
She hadn't moved.
Nico was almost fully asleep against her shoulder.
"If what you're suggesting is true," Matteo said slowly, "then someone inside that hospital switched two babies.
Someone who knew who I was.
Someone who knew what Elena's child would be worth." He stopped.
"And someone who was willing to let your son be reported d*ad."
Liana's hand pressed flat against Nico's back.
She could feel his heartbeat.
"There's one way to know," she said.
"A DNA test."
"Yes."
Matteo looked at his son.
The boy who had screamed for three weeks.
The boy who had gone silent the moment a grieving stranger crossed a marble floor toward him.
"If the test comes back the way you think it will," Matteo said, "then that child in your arms is not mine."
"I know."
"And your son—"
"Is somewhere." Her voice was steady.
"Alive.
Because someone wanted him."
Matteo crossed to the window.
The estate grounds stretched dark and quiet below.
His hands pressed flat against the glass.
"Who knew Elena was pregnant?" Liana asked.
He didn't turn around.
"Everyone.
It was announced.
She was the wife of Matteo Varric.
There was no hiding it."
"Who would benefit from switching the babies?"
His reflection in the glass was very still.
"Someone who wanted a child with Varric bl00d.
Someone who needed leverage.
Or someone who wanted to take something from me that I could never get back."
The name formed behind his eyes before he said it.
He didn't say it yet.
But Liana saw his reflection change.
"You already know who," she said.
He turned.
"Get some sleep.
I'll have a room prepared for you.
You're not leaving this estate until we have answers."
"You can't keep me here."
"No." His eyes moved to Nico, sleeping peacefully for the first time in three weeks.
"But I'm asking you to stay."
She looked at the baby in her arms.
The crease at the bridge of his nose.
May you like
The shape of his ears.
She stayed.
