Chapter 3

Daniel was still laughing when I hung up the phone.

"Elara? Who's Elara?" He looked at Vanessa, amused. "The drugs are still in her system. She thinks she's someone else."

Vanessa giggled, adjusting the baby against her chest. "Poor thing. Maybe the psychiatric hold is a mercy."

I said nothing. I didn't need to.

In exactly fourteen minutes, they would stop laughing.

I used those fourteen minutes wisely.

I walked calmly to the nurses' station. The same nurse who'd tried to stop me was there.

"I need the delivery room records from today. My name is Ellie Cross. Room 207."

The nurse hesitated. "Mrs. Cross, only your attending physician can—"

"Check again. I'm requesting my own medical records. That's my legal right."

She pulled up the file, frowning at the screen. "That's strange. Your delivery records have been... modified. The original file shows a live birth at 4:32 PM. But an amendment was added at 5:15 PM changing the status to stillborn."

"Who authorized the amendment?"

"Dr. Harmon. But the digital signature doesn't match his usual—" She caught herself, glancing around nervously. "I shouldn't be telling you this."

"Print everything. Both versions. Time-stamped."

She printed the records with shaking hands. I folded them into my gown pocket.

Evidence piece one.

Back in my room, I pulled up Vanessa's Instagram. Her "pregnancy journey" was meticulously documented — monthly bump photos, gender reveal, nursery decorations.

But something was off.

I scrolled to her earliest bump photo, dated five months ago. Her "five-month bump" looked exactly like a three-month bump. I'd been pregnant. I knew the difference.

Then I found it — a comment from a user named @MedSpaGlow: "Your prosthetic bump looks SO real! Best work we've ever done. 😍"

The comment had been deleted, but I'd taken a screenshot before it vanished.

Someone at that med spa had made Vanessa a fake pregnancy belly.

Evidence piece two.

My phone buzzed. A text from an unknown number:

"ETA 8 minutes. Southeast entrance. Do not leave the building."

Grandfather.

I sat on my bed and waited.

At exactly the fourteen-minute mark, I heard it.

Helicopter rotors.

Then the sound of multiple vehicles screeching into the hospital parking structure.

Then footsteps. Many footsteps. Coordinated, purposeful, and heading directly for the third floor.

The door to Room 312 burst open — I could hear it from two floors down.

Twelve men in dark suits filled the VIP hallway. Hospital security tried to intervene and were politely, firmly moved aside.

Leading them was a silver-haired man in a hand-tailored charcoal coat. Edward Sinclair. Eighty-one years old. Chairman emeritus of Crescent Holdings. My grandfather.

He hadn't aged a day since I last saw him. Same iron posture. Same eyes that had stared down senators and CEOs without blinking.

Behind him walked a woman I recognized from financial news — Judith Kessler, the most feared family attorney on the East Coast. Her hourly rate was $2,500 and she was worth every cent.

And behind Judith, two men carrying portable forensic testing kits.

I met them at the elevator.

Grandfather saw me — barefoot, bleeding through my gown, dark circles under my eyes — and his granite expression cracked for just a moment.

He cupped my face with both hands. "My girl. What have they done to you?"

"They took my baby, Grandfather."

His jaw set like a locked vault. "Take me to them."

We walked to Room 312 together.

Daniel heard the commotion and stepped into the hallway. His face cycled through confusion, irritation, and then — as twelve suited men parted to reveal Edward Sinclair — raw terror.

"Do you know who I am, boy?" Grandfather's voice was quiet. The dangerous kind of quiet.

Daniel's mouth opened. Closed. Opened again. "You're... Edward Sinclair."

"And that woman you drugged and robbed of her child?" Grandfather stepped closer. "That's my granddaughter."

Daniel looked at me. Really looked at me, maybe for the first time.

"That's... that's impossible. She's a waitress. She's nobody."

Grandfather smiled. It was the smile of a man who had destroyed empires.

"Judith, begin."

The attorney stepped forward, opening a leather portfolio.

"Mr. Cross, we are initiating emergency custody proceedings, criminal charges for kidnapping, assault, fraud, and medical malpractice conspiracy. DNA testing will be conducted within the hour."

She handed Daniel a stack of documents so thick it required both hands.

"Additionally, we're filing for immediate seizure of all assets you share with Ms. Vanessa Moore, pending investigation."

Daniel's hands trembled so violently the papers scattered across the floor.

From inside Room 312, Vanessa screamed: "Daniel! DANIEL! What's happening?"

My baby started crying again.

And this time, I was going to be the one to hold her.