Chapter 13 - The Mother on the Screen
Lucia had never needed to raise her voice.
Not at restaurants.
Not at family dinners.
Not when she told me the Moretti name came with expectations.
She had always relied on people moving aside.
This time, a locked NICU door stopped her.
A unit clerk asked for identification.
Lucia produced a temporary pass issued under my name.
When the clerk called my room, she walked away.
Hospital security found the pass in a trash can.
They didn’t find her.
I lay in recovery, unable to get out of bed, while Adrian stood in the hallway answering Ortiz’s questions.
“Where is she?” I asked every time someone entered.
“Your baby is safe.”
“Then show me.”
A nurse arranged a secure video call from the NICU.
Evelyn lay beneath a light blanket, small tubes beside her face.
Her chest rose.
Fell.
Rose.
I watched until my eyes burned.
Adrian came back.
“She can’t reach her.”
“Don’t say can’t.”
He swallowed.
“You’re right. Security’s at the unit. The staff have her picture. Nobody moves Evelyn without verification.”
That I could hold on to.
Facts.
A plan.
Not a promise.
Ortiz called at four in the morning.
Victor had been found.
Alive.
At a private terminal outside the city.
He’d tried to board a different plane.
His luggage held cash, a passport, and copies of the trust documents.
“He’s talking through counsel,” she said.
“About Lucia?”
“Among other things.”
Adrian listened without expression.
Then Ortiz asked to speak with me.
“Do you recognize the name Bellwether Foundation?”
“No.”
“It was listed as the receiving sponsor for your daughter’s transfer.”
My mouth went dry.
“Receiving sponsor?”
“We’re still tracing it.”
“What does that mean?”
“It means the plan may have involved more than your family.”
Adrian closed his eyes.
He knew something.
“Tell me.”
“Victor used charities to move money.”
“Was he going to sell her?”
“No,” he said too quickly.
I stared at him.
“I don’t know,” he corrected.
Those words were worse.
At sunrise, Ortiz returned in person.
Lucia’s lawyer had contacted her.
Lucia wanted a meeting.
“She says she has evidence about Peter’s death,” Ortiz told us.
Adrian stood.
“No.”
“She asked for Claire.”
“Absolutely not.”
I looked at him.
He stopped.
Ortiz continued.
“We aren’t recommending a private meeting. We can arrange a recorded call through counsel.”
“Why would she talk now?” I asked.
The detective’s expression tightened.
“Victor says the original plan wasn’t to take your daughter away from you.”
I felt the room go cold.
“Then what was it?”
May you like
Ortiz held my gaze.
“To make sure you never left the delivery room.”
