Chapter 5 - THE BABY THEY STOLE
Hunter Bennett didn't scream.
Lorenzo almost wished she had.
Instead, she walked upstairs in silence, entered Leo's nursery, lifted him from his crib, and held him against her chest.
"My baby."
The words barely existed.
Leo opened his eyes.
Hunter collapsed into the rocking chair.
"My baby."
For three weeks, she had mourned Grace.
She had chosen a tiny white coffin.
She had sat alone beside it because Grace's father had disappeared before the pregnancy ended.
She had returned to work because rent didn't care whether mothers were grieving.
And now the child she had believed buried was breathing in her arms.
Lorenzo stood at the doorway.
He had never felt so many emotions at once.
Relief that Hunter's child was alive.
Horror at what had been done.
And a fear so violent it almost bent him in half.
His son was somewhere else.
Maybe alive.
Maybe dead.
Hunter looked at him.
"I'm taking him."
Lorenzo didn't move.
"He's mine."
"Yes."
The answer surprised her.
"You aren't going to stop me?"
"No."
She held Leo tighter.
"Then get out of my way."
"Hunter."
"What?"
"Someone tried to kill him."
Her expression changed.
"If you leave this estate without protection, they may finish it."
Hunter's eyes filled with hatred.
"This happened because of your family."
"Yes."
"You brought this into my life."
"Yes."
"My daughter almost died because someone wanted to kill your son."
Lorenzo accepted every word.
"I will fix it."
"You can't fix three weeks of believing my child was dead!"
Her scream finally came.
Leo startled.
Hunter immediately lowered her voice.
"I'm sorry, sweetheart."
Lorenzo turned away.
Her pain felt deserved.
An hour later, DNA testing confirmed the impossible from the other direction.
Leo was not related to Lorenzo.
Not biologically.
Hunter was his mother.
Medical records were pulled from St. Catherine's.
Two infants had been born within forty minutes.
Hunter Bennett's daughter.
Sophia Rossi's emergency-delivered son.
The hospital claimed Hunter's daughter died.
The Rossi infant was transferred to Manhattan Memorial.
But camera footage from that night had disappeared.
Two nurses had resigned.
One physician had moved to Argentina.
And another had died in a supposed boating accident.
Mateo placed photographs across Lorenzo's desk.
"This wasn't an accident."
"No."
"Someone switched the babies."
"And then poisoned Hunter's child."
Mateo frowned.
"Why?"
Lorenzo stared at the photographs.
"Because whoever planned this expected my biological son to be somewhere else."
Hunter entered carrying Leo.
"Then the poisoning wasn't meant for him."
"No."
"It was meant for your son."
Lorenzo nodded.
Hunter understood.
The switch had saved Lorenzo's real child.
But condemned hers.
Unless someone discovered the mistake later.
"Who knew?"
"We find that out."
Mateo pointed to one image.
A man entering St. Catherine's service entrance at 2:13 a.m.
Marco DeMarco.
Isabella's husband.
Hunter looked at Lorenzo.
"That's your brother-in-law."
"Yes."
"Is he Mafia?"
Lorenzo almost smiled despite everything.
"That's complicated."
"Try me."
"He launders money through shipping companies. He negotiates contracts. He avoids violence when possible."
"But?"
"When violence becomes profitable, Marco stops avoiding it."
Mateo continued.
"Marco's supposedly in Milan. His passport says he entered Italy seven weeks ago."
"Supposedly?"
"We found credit-card activity in Montreal."
Lorenzo stood.
"Find him."
Hunter looked down at Leo.
"What about the other baby?"
Mateo hesitated.
"We found something."
Lorenzo turned.
Mateo placed another image on the desk.
A woman leaving St. Catherine's hospital carrying an infant carrier.
Timestamp 3:41 a.m.
Her face was partially hidden.
But Lorenzo recognized her.
"Camilla."
Hunter frowned.
"Who's Camilla?"
"Sophia's sister."
Camilla Vale had disappeared from family circles six months before Sophia died.
The official story was simple.
She and Sophia had fought.
Camilla moved to Europe.
No one had questioned it.
Now Mateo pulled up immigration records.
"Camilla never left the country."
Lorenzo looked at him.
"Where is she?"
"We don't know."
Then Hunter noticed something.
"Wait."
She leaned toward the photograph.
"Her wrist."
A hospital bracelet was visible.
Not visitor identification.
Patient identification.
Mateo enlarged it.
Hunter stared.
"She was admitted."
Lorenzo's phone rang.
Unknown number.
Everyone fell silent.
He answered.
"Lorenzo Rossi."
A man's voice spoke.
Distorted electronically.
"Congratulations."
Lorenzo's jaw tightened.
"Who is this?"
"You finally figured out the babies."
Hunter's blood turned cold.
Lorenzo motioned for Mateo to trace the call.
"What do you want?"
"Nothing you can give me."
"Then why call?"
"Because you should know your son is alive."
Lorenzo stopped breathing.
Hunter watched his face.
"Proof."
The caller laughed.
"You'll get proof."
"What do you want?"
"Your empire."
Lorenzo looked at Mateo.
Trace failing.
Signal bouncing through servers.
"You touched my child."
"Technically, your family touched mine first."
The line went dead.
Seconds later a message arrived.
Video attachment.
Lorenzo opened it.
A baby appeared on screen.
Approximately two months old.
Sleeping inside an unfamiliar crib.
Beside the child's head was that day's newspaper.
Hunter covered her mouth.
Then the camera moved.
A hand entered the frame.
On the baby's wrist was a hospital identification band.
ROSSI, BABY MALE.
Lorenzo's knees almost gave way.
Mateo whispered, "He's alive."
Then the video zoomed closer.
There was something written in black marker across the newspaper.
SEVENTY-TWO HOURS.
Hunter looked at Lorenzo.
"For what?"
Another message appeared.
May you like
TRANSFER THE ROSSI SHIPPING NETWORK TO MARCO DEMARCO.
OR YOUR SON TAKES HIS LAST BREATH.
