Chapter 5 - The Cradle RoomLiana did not remember falling.
One second she stood with the tablet in her hand, staring at a photograph that should not exist.
The next, she was on the edge of the bed with Dr. Rowan pressing a glass of water into her hands and Matteo crouched in front of her again, his face unreadable.
Isaac.
Alive.
Beside Nico.
Her baby had not vanished into darkness.
He had been placed inside it.
The photograph burned behind her eyes. Two infants wrapped in two different blankets, separated by inches, connected by something no one had yet dared to name.
“When was that taken?” she asked.
Dario answered from near the door. “Seven months ago.”
Liana shook her head. “No. Isaac wasn’t born seven months ago.”
“I know.”
“Then how—”
“The metadata was altered,” Dario said. “The image may be newer. Or the file date may have been planted.”
Matteo looked at him. “Which?”
“I’m working on it.”
Liana stood too fast. “Work faster.”
No one corrected her.
Maybe because her voice sounded too much like Matteo’s.
Dario looked at the tablet again. “There’s a background detail in the photo. A mural. Pale green wall. White crescent moon.”
Dr. Rowan straightened. “That’s not St. Agnes.”
“You know it?”
“I’ve seen it once.” Her face tightened. “Years ago. A private infant recovery room in the old Bellwood Clinic.”
Matteo turned. “Address.”
Dr. Rowan hesitated.
Matteo’s eyes sharpened.
“Rowan.”
“It was shut down after a malpractice investigation.”
“Address.”
She gave it.
Dario moved before Matteo spoke.
Within minutes, the estate shifted again. Men armed themselves. Vehicles were prepared. Routes were mapped. The old Bellwood Clinic appeared on the security room screens as a decaying brick building in a forgotten medical district where streetlights flickered and the city looked away.
Matteo ordered Liana to remain with Nico.
Liana refused.
This time, he did not say no immediately.
Perhaps because he knew she would not obey.
Perhaps because he understood that if Isaac was inside that clinic, no army on earth could keep her away.
Nico began fussing as soon as Liana moved toward the door.
The sound made everyone stop.
Matteo looked at his son, then at Liana.
Dario said, “Boss, bringing both of them is a risk.”
“So is leaving them here with a compromised staff list,” Matteo replied.
Dr. Rowan folded her arms. “I’m coming too.”
Dario muttered something under his breath.
Matteo ignored him. “No sirens. No police until we know who has been paid. We go in quiet.”
The convoy left at 3:46 a.m.
Liana sat beside Nico’s car seat, one hand resting lightly on his blanket. Matteo sat across from them, a gun beneath his jacket and grief beneath his eyes.
For the first time, Liana wondered about Alessia.
Not the dead wife as a plot point. Not the woman whose name appeared in payments and files.
The mother.
Had she known?
Had she tried to protect Nico?
Had she died because of it?
“What was she like?” Liana asked.
Matteo looked up.
“Your wife.”
His expression closed out of habit, then slowly shifted.
“Alessia hated lilies,” he said.
The answer surprised her.
“She said they smelled like funerals. My mother filled the house with them anyway because she believed beauty mattered more than preference.” His mouth tightened. “Alessia threw every arrangement into the courtyard.”
Liana almost smiled.
“She sounds brave.”
“She was reckless.”
“That’s what powerful men call brave women when they scare them.”
Dario made a choking sound from the front seat.
Matteo looked at Liana for a long moment.
Then, incredibly, he almost smiled.
Almost.
“She would have liked you,” he said.
The words settled between them with unexpected warmth.
Then the SUV slowed.
Bellwood Clinic rose ahead, half-covered in ivy and darkness.
The sign had been removed, but its shadow remained on the brick.
Two Varric men cut the gate. Another disabled the old alarm system. Dario led the first team inside. Matteo waited only long enough for confirmation that the front hall was clear.
Then he turned to Liana.
“You stay behind me.”
“If I hear my baby, I’m running.”
“I know.”
He handed her a small tracker. “Then at least let me find you when you do.”
She took it.
Not because she trusted him.
Because he was right.
Inside, the clinic smelled of dust, bleach, and something sweet that made Liana’s stomach turn.
Old exam rooms lined the hallway. Some were empty. Others held rusted carts, broken monitors, faded posters about prenatal care. Everything looked abandoned.
Too abandoned.
Dario’s voice came through Matteo’s earpiece. “Basement level has power.”
Matteo’s face hardened.
They found the stairwell behind a locked fire door.
The lock was new.
Dario opened it in seconds.
Below, faint light glowed.
And from somewhere beneath the building came the soft sound of music.
Liana stopped.
Her hand flew to her mouth.
“Hush now, little star…”
Her voice.
Again.
Not from memory.
From speakers.
Matteo’s expression turned murderous.
They descended.
The basement had been transformed.
Not into a hospital.
Into something worse.
A hidden nursery.
Rows of cribs stood under warm lamps. Some were empty. Some held blankets folded with careful precision. Names were clipped to several rails, but most had been removed. A refrigerator hummed against the wall beside locked cabinets labeled with numbers instead of medications.
On the far wall was the mural from the photograph.
Pale green.
White crescent moon.
Liana stumbled toward it.
There, beneath the painted moon, stood a bassinet.
Empty.
But inside was a yellow blanket with ducks on the corner.
Isaac’s blanket.
A sound left her body that did not feel human.
Matteo caught her before her knees gave way.
Dario moved through the room, checking drawers, cabinets, trash bins, monitors. “No children.”
Dr. Rowan opened a cabinet and went pale. “Matteo.”
Inside were files.
Dozens.
Each marked with a mother’s name.
Some wealthy.
Some poor.
Some alone.
Some dead.
Liana saw hers immediately.
GRAVES, LIANA.
Her fingers trembled as she pulled it free.
Inside was a photo of her sleeping in a hospital bed.
Another of Isaac in the NICU.
Another of her singing beside his incubator.
And a note typed across the top.
VOICE PROFILE: EFFECTIVE.
Nico made a small sound from his carrier.
Liana turned.
The baby was staring at the speaker in the ceiling, his eyes wide with terror.
Matteo ripped the speaker from the wall with his bare hands.
The lullaby died.
Silence crashed down.
Dario called from the back room. “Boss.”
They found him standing beside a locked refrigerator.
Not food.
Not medicine.
Evidence.
Inside were vials labeled with infant names, hair samples, blood cards, hospital bracelets, tiny footprints, and sealed envelopes.
Dario held up one.
“Nico Varric.”
Then another.
“Isaac Graves.”
Liana reached for it, but Matteo stopped her gently.
“Let Rowan handle it.”
Dr. Rowan took both envelopes with gloved hands.
“These are genetic samples.”
“For what?” Liana asked.
The doctor’s face was grim. “Matching. Tracking. Leverage.”
A phone rang from somewhere in the hidden nursery.
Everyone froze.
Dario found it taped beneath the empty bassinet.
Matteo answered.
The same woman’s voice filled the room.
“You found the cradle room. Good. I was afraid grief had made you slow.”
Matteo’s voice was ice. “Where are the children?”
“You still think this is only about children.”
“It is to me.”
A soft laugh. “That was always your weakness. Alessia knew it. Liana knows it now.”
Liana stepped closer. “Where is my son?”
A pause.
Then the woman said, almost kindly, “He looks like you when he sleeps.”
Liana’s heart shattered.
Matteo took one step toward the phone, as if he could reach through it and kill the voice.
The woman continued. “Dawn is coming. Bring Liana to St. Agnes chapel. Alone.”
“No,” Matteo said.
“Then Isaac dies, and Nico starts screaming again by sunrise.”
The call ended.
Across the room, Nico began to cry.
Not loud.
Not frantic.
May you like
Just one broken little sob.
And Liana knew the woman was watching them.
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