Chapter 2
Vittorio did not shout.
That was one of the first things I learned about him.
People who needed volume usually didn't have enough power without it.
He looked at Samuel.
“Show me.”
Samuel brought up the hospital security feed.
11:47 p.m.
My father entered the medical center.
Mark beside him.
Two unfamiliar men followed.
One carried a black diaper bag.
The other carried infant carriers.
Three of them.
I stared at the screen.
“Why three?”
Nobody answered.
There were two babies.
Lily.
Noah.
Three carriers.
I looked at Dad.
“Why?”
“You're exhausted.”
“Don't.”
“Emma—”
“Don't tell me what I am.”
For the first time, he stopped.
Vittorio looked toward one of his men.
“Find the two others.”
The bodyguard left.
Mark had pushed himself upright against the wall.
Blood touched the corner of his mouth.
“This is getting ridiculous.”
Vittorio glanced at him.
“You attempted to remove my grandson from a locked maternity room.”
Mark said nothing.
“That has already passed ridiculous.”
Dad stepped forward.
“This is between my daughter and us.”
Vittorio looked at me.
“Is it?”
“No.”
One word.
It felt strange coming out of my mouth.
Good strange.
“No.”
Dad looked at me as if I had betrayed him.
I almost laughed.
Samuel continued through the footage.
The two unknown men split from Dad and Mark near the elevators.
One went toward the service level.
The other toward neonatal observation.
My stomach tightened.
“Why neonatal?”
Samuel didn't know.
Dad did.
I saw it.
His face didn't change much.
It didn't need to.
I had spent twenty-six years learning his smallest reactions.
“You knew.”
“Emma.”
“You knew where they were going.”
“No.”
Mark looked at him.
Dad's eyes snapped toward Mark.
That was another answer.
The bodyguard returned twelve minutes later.
Alone.
“Gone.”
Vittorio's expression hardened.
“Both?”
“Yes.”
“They leave anything?”
The guard held up a diaper bag.
Mine.
I knew it immediately.
Ethan and I had packed it together.
Yellow bottle caps for Lily.
Blue for Noah.
Two blankets.
Six tiny onesies.
And an envelope Ethan placed in the front pocket.
I had asked what it was.
He smiled.
“Something for later.”
I had forgotten about it.
Until now.
“Give it to me.”
Vittorio placed the bag on my bed.
I opened the front pocket.
The envelope was gone.
In its place was a folded note.
Three words.
LEAVE WITH US.
I stared at it.
Mark whispered something.
Too low.
Vittorio heard him anyway.
“What?”
Mark shook his head.
“Nothing.”
I looked directly at my brother.
“What did you say?”
His jaw tightened.
Then:
“She wasn't supposed to see that.”
Dad turned toward him.
“Shut up.”
The room went silent.
Vittorio looked from one man to the other.
Then at the three empty infant carriers frozen on the security image.
And for the first time, I realized something worse.
May you like
Maybe they hadn't come simply to take my babies.
Maybe one of those carriers was meant to bring something into the hospital too.
