Chapter 3 - THE WOMAN IN THE HOSPITAL RECORDS|
By midnight, the engagement decorations were being taken down.
The flowers were still fresh.
The champagne was still cold.
And somewhere upstairs, a woman who had expected to become Leonardo Moretti's wife was packing her belongings under the supervision of two security officers.
I should have felt relieved.
Instead, I was sitting in the back of Leonardo's car, staring at the dark streets of Chicago and wondering whether my daughter would survive until morning.
I didn't know the baby was a girl.
Not officially.
Matteo and I had once talked about having a daughter, and the possibility had become so real in my mind that I sometimes caught myself imagining her tiny shoes beside our front door.
Now I was terrified that someone had already decided who would be allowed to raise her.
Leonardo sat beside me.
Anthony occupied the front passenger seat.
A police detective named Daniel Hayes followed in another vehicle.
The doctor Leonardo had contacted was waiting at a hospital unaffiliated with the Romano family.
"Are you in pain?" Leonardo asked.
"Not right now."
"Tell me if that changes."
I nodded.
Then I looked at his hands.
The tattoos stretched across his knuckles and disappeared beneath the sleeves of his black jacket.
Matteo used to tease his brother about those tattoos.
He said Leonardo looked like a man who'd gotten into an argument with a coloring book.
I smiled despite myself.
Leonardo noticed.
"What?"
"Matteo used to make jokes about your tattoos."
A small smile appeared on his face.
"He made jokes about everything."
"He said you took yourself too seriously."
"He was usually right."
For a few seconds, we sat quietly.
Then Leonardo looked out the window.
"I thought I knew everything important about my brother."
My heart hurt.
"He wanted to tell you about us."
"I know."
"He was nervous."
Leonardo turned.
"About me?"
I nodded.
"He said you were protective."
Leonardo exhaled.
"That's one word for it."
"He was afraid you'd think he was rushing into marriage."
I touched my ring.
"But he never doubted marrying me."
Leonardo looked down at my hand.
"I wish I'd been there."
"So do I."
We arrived at the hospital shortly before one in the morning.
A nurse took me directly to a private examination room.
Leonardo waited outside while Dr. Evelyn Carter examined me.
She was in her early fifties, with silver-streaked hair and the kind of calm voice that made it easier to breathe.
After reviewing my symptoms and monitoring the baby, she smiled gently.
"The heartbeat is reassuring."
I began crying.
"She's okay?"
"At the moment, everything looks stable."
The doctor explained that the tightening could have been caused by stress and physical exhaustion, but she wanted continued monitoring because I was seven months pregnant.
Then she asked about the private clinic.
When I told her everything, her expression became serious.
"Emma, do you remember signing a medical authorization?"
"Several."
"Did anyone explain the procedures to you?"
"Not really."
She nodded slowly.
"Then we'll need to obtain your records and make sure there are no undisclosed instructions attached to your care."
I swallowed.
"Can someone force me to deliver early?"
"Not lawfully without a medical basis and appropriate consent, except in very limited emergencies."
My eyes filled again.
"So I can say no?"
"Of course."
Her expression softened.
"Your decisions about your medical care matter."
When Leonardo returned, he found me sitting upright with a blanket around my shoulders.
"The baby's okay," I whispered.
His entire face changed.
"Thank God."
He pulled a chair beside the bed.
Then he hesitated.
"Do you mind if I stay?"
I shook my head.
"Please."
For a while, neither of us spoke.
Then Anthony entered with Detective Hayes.
The detective was a broad-shouldered man with tired eyes and a notebook worn thin at the corners.
"I understand you've had a difficult evening, Mrs. Moretti."
Hearing my married name startled me.
For five months, everyone at the mansion had called me Emma Collins.
I had almost forgotten what it felt like to be acknowledged as Matteo's wife.
"Yes," I whispered.
Hayes sat opposite me.
"I want you to know we're treating these allegations seriously."
He explained that the estate documents, medical authorizations, and the statements made during dinner would be reviewed.
The police had also begun examining whether the suspected fraudulent financial transfers were connected to the clinic.
Then he showed me a photograph.
It was the same man pictured beside Matteo and Richard outside the parking garage.
"Do you recognize him?"
I nodded.
"He came to my apartment after Matteo's funeral."
"Can you describe what he said?"
I repeated the threat about Matteo's supposed debts.
Hayes wrote everything down.
"Did he give you his name?"
"Arthur Pike."
Leonardo looked up sharply.
"You remember his name?"
"He gave me a business card."
"Do you still have it?" Hayes asked.
I shook my head.
"I threw it away after he frightened me."
The detective nodded.
"That's understandable."
Then Anthony placed a document on the table.
"We've identified Pike as a private security contractor who previously worked for Richard Romano."
Leonardo's expression hardened.
"How long?"
"At least six years."
Hayes glanced at his notebook.
"Pike was also questioned as a witness in Matteo's accident."
My entire body went cold.
"What?"
The detective looked at me gently.
"His vehicle was reportedly in the vicinity of Lake Shore Drive that night."
I gripped the blanket.
"Why would he be there?"
"That's one of the questions we're investigating."
Leonardo's hands curled into fists.
Hayes watched him carefully.
"Mr. Moretti, I need you to let us handle this."
Leonardo stared at the floor.
Then nodded.
For a man accustomed to giving orders, it looked like the hardest thing he'd ever done.
After the detective left, I asked Anthony whether he knew anything about Claire Bennett.
He hesitated.
"We found a complaint filed with the Illinois Department of Public Health."
My stomach dropped.
"What complaint?"
"A woman named Claire Bennett alleged that her newborn's medical records had been altered."
"Was the complaint investigated?"
"It was closed after the clinic provided documents claiming the infant had died."
I looked toward Leonardo.
"Matteo found something they didn't want anyone to see."
Leonardo nodded slowly.
"I think so."
Anthony opened his laptop.
"There's something else."
He showed us a scanned letter.
It had been submitted by Claire's attorney four months earlier.
The letter alleged that Claire had been sedated after giving birth, told that her daughter had died, and denied access to the original hospital records.
But one sentence made my blood run cold.
The mother reports that she was offered financial compensation in exchange for withdrawing her complaint.
I stared at the words.
"They tried to buy her silence."
Anthony nodded.
"And according to the complaint, the offer came through a trust associated with Richard Romano."
Leonardo stood.
He walked toward the window and stared into the darkness.
"Matteo must have found Claire."
"Possibly," Anthony answered.
I remembered something else.
"Wait."
They both turned.
"Matteo once told me he was helping a woman who'd lost her family."
Leonardo stared.
"What woman?"
"He didn't say."
I closed my eyes, trying to remember.
"He said she had been told something terrible, and he wasn't sure anyone believed her."
Anthony looked toward Leonardo.
"That could have been Claire."
A nurse came in and adjusted the monitor.
The steady rhythm of my baby's heartbeat filled the room.
I listened to it with tears in my eyes.
Somewhere in Chicago, another mother had once listened to the same beautiful sound.
Then someone had told her it was gone forever.
"Find her," I whispered.
Leonardo looked at me.
"Emma, you need to rest."
"Please."
My voice shook.
"If that woman is telling the truth, she deserves to know what happened to her daughter."
Leonardo took a long breath.
Then nodded.
"We'll find her."
A moment later, Anthony's phone vibrated.
He looked at the screen.
His expression shifted.
"What is it?" Leonardo asked.
Anthony turned the laptop toward us.
A new email had arrived from an address without a recognizable name.
The subject contained only four words.
MATTEO WAS TELLING THE TRUTH.
Inside was a photograph of a newborn girl's hospital identification bracelet.
Beneath it was a message.
Claire Bennett's daughter did not die.
I know where the child was taken.
And if the Romanos discover I've contacted you, I'll be next.
At the bottom was a name.
Nora Whitfield.
May you like
A former nurse at the private clinic.
And the person who had signed the official report declaring Claire's baby dead.
