Isabella slowly stood.
“What is it?”
Vincent tapped the icon.
A calendar opened.
Twelve days earlier.
The morning Elena came home from St. Catherine’s Hospital.
The official discharge time had been 12:18 p.m.
Vincent remembered because Isabella had suffered a severe postpartum hemorrhage after delivery and had been kept under observation longer than expected.
Vincent himself had left the hospital briefly that morning to meet a security consultant after a threat against the Moretti company.
Isabella’s younger sister, Mara, had volunteered to bring Elena home if Isabella’s discharge was delayed.
Mara was a pediatric nurse.
Isabella trusted her more than anyone.
Vincent selected the footage.
The screen went black.
Then numbers appeared.
09:41:57
The nursery was empty.
Soft morning sunlight crossed the cream carpet.
The rocking chair Isabella’s father had bought before his death sat near the window.
Nine forty-two.
The door opened.
A woman Vincent had never seen stepped inside.
Midforties.
Dark uniform.
Hair pinned beneath a gray cap.
She carried a baby wrapped in cream-colored blankets.
Isabella leaned toward the monitor.
“Who is that?”
“I don’t know.”
The woman crossed toward Elena’s crib.
She lowered the infant inside.
Then a voice came from somewhere beyond the camera.
Female.
Calm.
Impatient.
“Put her down.”
Isabella grabbed Vincent’s wrist.
The voice continued.
“She already signed the surrender.”
Isabella stopped breathing.
Vincent turned toward Evelyn.
Evelyn backed away.
“I can explain.”
“No,” Isabella whispered.
The nursery door opened again.
Another person entered.
A young woman carrying a thick white hospital envelope.
Isabella made a sound somewhere between a sob and a gasp.
Vincent stared.
He recognized her too.
Mara Hart.
Isabella’s sister.
The woman Isabella had trusted to bring Elena home.
Mara looked frightened in the video.
“What surrender?” she asked.
The unidentified woman stiffened.
The off-camera voice answered.
“Your sister decided the baby will stay with your mother until she recovers.”
Mara shook her head.
“No. Isabella told me this morning she wanted Elena home.”
“She changed her mind.”
“Where’s the form?”
Mara lifted the hospital envelope.
“I have the discharge papers.”
Then Evelyn herself stepped into view.
The present-day Evelyn closed her eyes.
On the recording, she wore the same pearl earrings.
She took a sheet of paper from her handbag.
“There.”
Mara stared at it.
“She signed this?”
“Yes.”
“When?”
“Last night.”
“She could barely hold a glass last night.”
“Mara.”
“She was sedated.”
“Mara.”
“Mom, what did you do?”
The video abruptly ended.
Vincent stared at the frozen screen.
Then Isabella whispered:
“Keep going.”
Evelyn moved toward the front door.
Vincent’s security chief, Anthony Russo, appeared in the hallway.
“Mrs. Hart,” Vincent said without turning, “if you leave this house, Anthony will stop you.”
Evelyn froze.
Vincent restarted the recording.
At 12:46 p.m., another vehicle arrived.
Mara entered again.
This time she carried a hospital car seat.
Inside was Elena.
Vincent knew immediately.
The pink blanket.
The knitted hat.
The tiny white identification bracelet they had saved in a box.
Mara placed Elena beside the crib.
Then something happened that made Isabella grip Vincent’s shoulder.
There were two babies in the nursery.
