Chapter 13: The Real Liam
"No one touches either baby!"
Dr. Patel's voice echoed through the neonatal unit.
Every nurse froze.
Every monitor continued beeping.
Maya stood between the two bassinets.
She held one infant against her chest.
The second baby remained asleep.
Both wristbands read:
LIAM COLLINS.
Officer Ramirez rushed into the nursery.
She immediately ordered the doors sealed.
"No one enters."
"No one leaves."
Hospital security locked every exit.
Detective Morris arrived moments later with two FBI agents.
"The network was breached again."
"Can they restore the records?"
"They're trying."
"But someone rewrote every backup."
I looked at the baby in Maya's arms.
Then at the infant in the bassinet.
Same weight.
Same blanket.
Same knitted blue cap.
The resemblance was impossible.
Maya's breathing became uneven.
"I know my son."
She looked down.
Then tears filled her eyes.
"I..."
"I don't."
She hated herself the moment the words escaped.
"I've been exhausted."
"I've been sedated."
"I've barely slept."
"I know every sound he makes..."
"...but they look identical."
I stepped beside her.
"You don't have to prove anything."
"I do."
"What if I choose wrong?"
"You won't."
"But what if I do?"
The room fell silent.
Dr. Patel slowly removed both identification bracelets.
"They can no longer be trusted."
One bracelet was placed into an evidence bag.
Then the other.
"From this moment forward," she said calmly, "we identify both infants through medical evidence only."
A pediatric specialist entered carrying a portable scanner.
"Footprints."
The word caught my attention.
"When Liam was born," she explained, "the hospital recorded his footprints."
"They cannot be duplicated."
The technician retrieved the original delivery file.
She frowned.
"It's gone."
"What?"
"The footprint record has been deleted."
Detective Morris looked toward the ceiling.
"They anticipated this."
The specialist remained calm.
"Fortunately..."
"...we also scanned retinal blood vessels after delivery."
"Those images are stored separately."
The technician connected another secure drive.
A loading bar appeared.
Twenty percent.
Thirty-five.
Sixty.
Then the screen flashed red.
FILE CORRUPTED.
Someone had destroyed that record too.
Officer Ramirez cursed quietly.
The room suddenly felt much smaller.
Another FBI analyst entered at a run.
"We found something."
"What?"
"The hackers didn't erase everything."
He connected a recovered backup.
A thermal image appeared.
Delivery Room Three.
Eleven days earlier.
Immediately after Liam's birth.
The newborn had been placed beneath an infrared warmer.
Heat patterns remained visible.
The specialist enlarged the image.
"There."
A tiny dark mark appeared beneath the infant's left shoulder blade.
"A birthmark?"
"No."
"A vaccination site?"
The pediatrician shook her head.
"No."
"A small surgical adhesive."
I looked at Maya.
Her eyes widened.
"The heart monitor."
She remembered.
Immediately after delivery, Liam's heart rhythm briefly became irregular.
Doctors had attached a tiny monitoring sensor beneath his left shoulder.
When they removed it, a faint square-shaped irritation remained.
The specialist carefully examined the baby Maya held.
Nothing.
She examined the infant in the second bassinet.
There.
Barely visible.
A tiny pale square beneath the left shoulder blade.
Maya collapsed into tears.
"That's him."
She kissed his forehead repeatedly.
"My baby."
The second infant began crying.
Not loudly.
Just enough to make everyone turn.
A nurse picked him up.
"Poor little guy."
Dr. Patel frowned.
"This child is also dehydrated."
"Who is he?"
No one answered.
The unknown baby had arrived carrying Liam's identity.
But someone had cared enough to keep him alive.
Detective Morris quietly asked,
"Can we run DNA?"
The laboratory chief nodded.
"Emergency testing."
"Ninety minutes."
The unknown child was transferred into protective care.
Maya refused to let Liam leave her arms.
Not again.
Never again.
Meanwhile...
Federal agents searched the abandoned Collins mansion.
Every hidden room.
Every basement.
Every crawlspace.
Nothing.
Then one young agent noticed fresh tire tracks leading away from the greenhouse.
A concrete floor concealed an elevator.
The mechanism descended nearly fifty feet.
Below...
...another underground facility.
Much older than the factory.
Dust covered abandoned medical equipment.
Rows of empty cribs lined one wall.
Thousands of paper files filled metal shelves.
One cabinet remained locked.
Agents forced it open.
Inside sat dozens of VHS tapes.
Each labeled with a child's first name.
Jacob.
Natalie.
Ava.
Rose.
Mark.
David.
Daniel.
Liam.
The last label made everyone stop.
Liam.
The tape had been recorded twenty-nine years ago.
Impossible.
The federal team immediately secured every cassette.
One envelope rested beneath them.
Addressed simply:
FOR THE SON WHO LIVED.
Back at the hospital...
The emergency DNA report arrived earlier than expected.
The laboratory director entered personally.
His face looked troubled.
"Mr. Collins..."
"What?"
"We confirmed one infant is your biological son."
I smiled for the first time all night.
Then the director continued.
"The second child..."
"...is also biologically related to you."
The smile disappeared.
"What?"
"Not as your son."
"As..."
He hesitated.
"...your nephew."
Everyone stared.
"My nephew?"
"Yes."
The unknown infant shared enough DNA to identify him as the child of one of your close biological relatives."
Detective Morris immediately understood.
"The twin."
My pulse accelerated.
"If the unknown baby's father is David's identical twin..."
"...then genetically he appears almost identical to David's own child."
The laboratory director nodded.
"Exactly."
Maya looked at me.
"So..."
"The other baby belongs to your brother."
The brother whose voice had called me.
The brother Eleanor had hidden since birth.
The brother who now seemed to be one step ahead of every investigation.
My phone rang.
Unknown number.
Again.
I answered.
"My son is safe."
A soft laugh came through the speaker.
"For now."
"What do you want?"
"I wanted to thank you."
"For what?"
"You protected him."
"You proved you'll always choose family."
"I don't understand."
"You will."
A pause.
Then he spoke more quietly.
"The baby beside Liam..."
"...is my son."
I felt the room spin.
"You left your own child here?"
"I left him where he'd finally be safe."
"You expect me to believe that?"
"No."
"I expect you to raise him."
The line went silent for several seconds.
Then he added one final sentence.
"Eleanor never kept only one son."
"She raised one."
"...and hunted the other."
The call disconnected.
Before anyone could speak, every television in the hospital switched on simultaneously.
Breaking News.
A luxury SUV had exploded beneath the Brooklyn Bridge less than five minutes earlier.
Inside the burning vehicle...
...police had recovered Commissioner Harold Vance's identification.
But surveillance footage from thirty seconds before the explosion showed Vance climbing out of the SUV...
...and getting into another vehicle.
The driver waiting for him looked exactly like me.
Not similar.
Not almost.
Exactly.
The news anchor's voice trembled.
"Authorities are searching for a man believed to be David Collins."
My own face now appeared across every television in New York.
May you like
Wanted for the murder of the police commissioner.
END OF CHAPTER 13
