Chapter 3 - The Altered Records
The sudden darkness plunged the nursery into absolute chaos.
I held my breath, pressing myself deep into the corner of the room to shield Leo from any stray bullets.
Lorenzo's voice cut through the pitch-black silence, ordering his men to secure the perimeter immediately.
Emergency red lights flared to life a few seconds later, casting a bloody glow across the walls.
Armed guards swarmed into the room, forming a human barricade around me and the sleeping infant.
Lorenzo's second-in-command, a heavily scarred man named Matteo, stepped forward with a tactical tablet.
"Boss, the security cameras in the east wing were remotely disabled from the inside," Matteo reported.
Lorenzo cursed, running a hand through his dark hair in sheer frustration.
"Find the traitor, Matteo, and bring him to me alive," Lorenzo commanded.
Once the room was secured, Lorenzo escorted me and Leo to an impenetrable underground safe room.
The steel walls of the bunker felt incredibly cold, but I finally felt a small fraction of safety.
I sat on the edge of the medical bed, gently rocking Leo as he slept peacefully for the first time in weeks.
Lorenzo sat across from me, pulling a thick, classified medical file from a locked cabinet.
"I had my men investigate your hospital records after I found out Julian was the father," Lorenzo confessed.
He handed me a stack of papers detailing the night I had given birth.
I looked at the documents, my hands shaking violently as I read the forged signatures.
"The time of death on this certificate is listed as 11:00 PM," I whispered in confusion.
"I didn't even go into labor until midnight."
Lorenzo nodded grimly, pointing to a heavily redacted section of the autopsy report.
"The baby they buried was not poisoned, Hunter," he revealed softly.
"The doctor lied to cover up a much darker truth."
I stared at him, my heart hammering desperately against my ribs.
"What are you saying?" I begged, tears welling in my eyes.
Lorenzo looked at me with an expression of profound, devastating pity.
May you like
"Your baby didn't die that night, Hunter."
"The body they showed you was a decoy, and your real child was stolen from the maternity ward."
