“No.”
I said it again.
Nobody moved.
Leo slept against me, unaware that three adults were staring at him as if his existence had become a crime scene.
“That number could be a mistake.”
Marco lowered the tablet.
“It could.”
“Then it is.”
Nobody answered.
I turned toward the doctor.
“Tell them.”
He looked uncomfortable.
“Hospital infant identifiers are designed to prevent exactly this kind of confusion.”
“But mistakes happen.”
“Yes.”
“So tell them.”
“They happen,” he said carefully. “But this would be unusual.”
I looked at Lorenzo.
He was pale.
“This is your son.”
“Yes.”
“You were there.”
“Yes.”
“You saw him born.”
“No.”
The room froze.
“What?”
Lorenzo swallowed.
“Sophia was taken straight into surgery. I arrived after the explosion.”
“But you saw Leo immediately.”
“Not immediately.”
“How long?”
“About forty minutes.”
Something cold began crawling through my chest.
“Who brought him to you?”
“A nurse.”
“Which nurse?”
Lorenzo looked at Marco.
Marco answered.
“Evelyn Price.”
I nearly dropped Leo.
The nurse who told me my baby died.
The woman who wasn’t actually licensed.
The same woman who had handed Lorenzo his son.
I placed Leo in the crib because my arms suddenly felt too weak.
Lorenzo stepped toward me.
“Hunter.”
“Don’t.”
“I didn’t know.”
“I said don’t.”
I backed away.
My body shook so violently I had to hold the side of the crib.
“Where is she?”
Marco answered.
“We don’t know.”
“Find her.”
“We are.”
“No. Find her now.”
Lorenzo looked at Marco.
“You heard her.”
Marco left.
I laughed once.
It sounded broken.
“Of course.”
“What?”
“Now you listen to me.”
Lorenzo’s jaw tightened.
“I listened before.”
“No, you investigated because it involved you.”
“That’s not fair.”
“My child may have been stolen from me.”
“And mine may have been stolen too.”
That stopped me.
For the first time, I understood the other possibility.
If Leo was mine—
then where was Sophia’s child?
Lorenzo seemed to realize the same thing.
His expression collapsed for half a second.
Then the walls came back.
“We test.”
I nodded.
“DNA.”
“Yes.”
The doctor collected samples immediately.
Mine.
Lorenzo’s.
Leo’s.
Waiting became torture.
The lab promised expedited results.
Three hours felt like three years.
I stayed near Leo.
So did Lorenzo.
We barely spoke.
At sunrise, he finally asked, “What did you name her?”
I looked at him.
“My baby?”
He nodded.
“Lily.”
“Why?”
“My mother loved lilies.”
He stared at the floor.
“Sophia wanted Leo because she said it meant lion.”
I almost smiled.
“That sounds like something a woman married to you would choose.”
A faint expression passed across his face.
“She wasn’t afraid of me.”
“Was anyone?”
“Sophia.”
He looked toward Leo.
“And apparently you.”
“I’m terrified of you.”
“You hide it well.”
“I have bigger things to fear now.”
That wiped away the almost-smile.
Around eight, Marco returned.
“We found Price.”
I stood immediately.
“Where?”
“She used a false identity after leaving the hospital.”
“Where is she now?”
“Connecticut.”
Lorenzo’s expression hardened.
“Bring her.”
I looked at him.
“What does that mean?”
“It means my people are going to talk to her.”
“Talk?”
His eyes met mine.
I understood.
“No.”
“Hunter.”
“No.”
“She may have stolen our children.”
“And if you hurt her before she tells us everything?”
His jaw flexed.
I stepped closer.
“You want answers? So do I. But I’m not letting you turn this into revenge before we know where the other baby is.”
Silence.
Lorenzo looked at Marco.
“Bring her here alive and unharmed.”
Marco nodded.
That was the first time I realized Lorenzo Rossi could be influenced.
Not controlled.
But influenced.
Hours later, the DNA results arrived.
The doctor entered holding a sealed folder.
Nobody breathed.
He opened it.
“Leo is not biologically related to Mr. Rossi.”
Lorenzo closed his eyes.
Just once.
Then he opened them.
The doctor looked at me.
“Leo is your biological son.”
My legs failed.
I sank into a chair.
“No.”
Not because I didn’t believe him.
Because I had been told I had a daughter.
The doctor continued.
“The original prenatal ultrasound records you described may have been altered or misinterpreted. We need the full medical file.”
I stared at Leo.
“My baby.”
My hands covered my mouth.
“My baby.”
I had spent weeks mourning him.
While he had been ten miles away, starving.
I moved toward the crib.
Leo opened his eyes.
His tiny hand lifted.
I touched one finger to his palm.
He gripped it.
I broke.
A sound came from me that I had never heard before.
Not a sob.
Something deeper.
I bent over the crib crying so hard I couldn’t stand straight.
“My baby.”
Behind me, Lorenzo remained silent.
Then I remembered.
If Leo was mine, Lorenzo had lost another child too.
I looked at him.
His face was stone.
But his eyes were wet.
“Where is your son?”
He turned away.
“Lorenzo.”
“I don’t know.”
He walked toward the window.
For the first time since I had known him, he looked completely defeated.
I understood something then.
Leo had been stolen from me.
But Lorenzo had also been living a lie.
He had loved Leo.
He had sat beside him every night.
Paid every doctor.
Threatened heaven itself to keep him alive.
Blood didn’t erase that.
I approached slowly.
“You’re still his father.”
Lorenzo laughed bitterly.
“No.”
“Yes.”
“He isn’t mine.”
“You fed him?”
“When he could tolerate bottles.”
“You held him?”
“Yes.”
“You stayed awake?”
He didn’t answer.
“You loved him?”
His jaw tightened.
I repeated it.
“Did you love him?”
“Yes.”
The word barely came out.
“Then blood doesn’t get to erase two months.”
Lorenzo looked at me.
“He’s yours.”
“He’s ours to protect right now.”
Something changed between us.
Not romance.
Not yet.
Something stranger.
Two grieving strangers standing beside a child they both believed they had lost in different ways.
That evening, Evelyn Price arrived.
Marco brought her into the library.
She looked older than her photograph.
Tired.
Terrified.
The moment she saw me, she began crying.
“Oh God.”
I moved forward.
“You remember me.”
She covered her mouth.
“I’m sorry.”
“Where is Lorenzo’s baby?”
Her eyes shifted toward him.
Lorenzo stood perfectly still.
“Answer her.”
Evelyn shook her head.
“I was supposed to switch the identification.”
“Why?”
“Money.”
“From whom?”
She hesitated.
Lorenzo’s voice dropped.
“Evelyn.”
She flinched.
“A woman named Celeste Moretti.”
Lorenzo’s face changed instantly.
“You know her,” I said.
“She worked for Sophia’s family.”
Evelyn nodded.
“She said the bombing created an opportunity.”
“What opportunity?”
“To make the Rossi heir disappear.”
Lorenzo’s eyes became cold.
“And Hunter’s child?”
“A replacement.”
My stomach turned.
“You stole my son.”
“I didn’t know you!”
“You told me he was dead.”
“I was ordered to.”
“By Celeste?”
“Yes.”
My hands shook.
I wanted to hit her.
Instead, I asked the only question that mattered.
“Where is Sophia’s baby?”
Evelyn started crying harder.
“I don’t know.”
Lorenzo moved so quickly Marco stepped forward.
I blocked him.
“Stop.”
“She knows.”
“She’s scared.”
“She should be.”
I turned to Evelyn.
“You moved two babies.”
She nodded.
“Tell us what happened.”
She looked at Lorenzo.
Then at me.
“Celeste told me the Rossi child was supposed to vanish. She had buyers.”
Lorenzo’s face became deadly.
“Buyers?”
“An overseas family.”
I felt sick.
“But the bombing changed everything. Security increased. I couldn’t remove the baby immediately.”
“So you switched him,” I whispered.
“Yes.”
“With mine.”
“Yes.”
“Then where did Sophia’s baby go?”
Evelyn squeezed her eyes shut.
“Celeste took him.”
“When?”
“The same night.”
Lorenzo’s hands clenched.
“Where?”
“She never told me.”
“You expect me to believe that?”
Evelyn shook her head desperately.
“There’s something else.”
Nobody moved.
She looked directly at Lorenzo.
“Celeste didn’t choose Hunter randomly.”
I felt my heart stop.
“What?”
Evelyn turned toward me.
“She already knew who you were.”
I stared at her.
“How?”
Her next words changed everything.
“Because Hunter’s father worked for the Rossi family.”
I stepped back.
“I don’t have a father.”
Evelyn shook her head.
“You do.”
Lorenzo went pale.
And for the second time since I entered that mansion, I saw recognition in his face.
Only this time it wasn’t a bracelet.
It was my name.