Chapter 2 - The Name on the Bracelet
By sunrise, I had become the most suspicious person in the Rossi mansion.
Three armed men stood outside the nursery.
The nurse who had fallen asleep was gone.
The doctors were arguing behind closed doors.
And Lorenzo had not let me leave.
I sat in a small sitting room across from him, still wearing my maid's uniform.
He sat opposite me.
A cup of untouched coffee rested between us.
“You lied to me.”
I looked down.
“I didn't lie.”
“You concealed a pregnancy.”
“Because it was none of your business.”
His jaw tightened.
“Someone accessed my son's medical records tonight.”
“And you think that's me?”
“I think you were in the nursery without permission.”
“I was.”
“You touched my son.”
“Yes.”
“You were feeding him.”
“Yes.”
His eyes narrowed.
“And now he's doing better than he has in weeks.”
I stared at him.
“Then maybe you should be thanking me.”
His expression softened for half a second.
Then hardened again.
“Who was the baby's father?”
I shook my head.
“I don't know.”
“You don't know?”
“He left.”
“When?”
“Before Noah was born.”
“Name.”
I said nothing.
Lorenzo leaned forward.
“I can protect you.”
I laughed bitterly.
“Men like you always say that.”
“Men like me?”
“You know exactly what I mean.”
He stared at me.
For the first time, I saw something behind the terrifying reputation.
Pain.
Maybe even shame.
Then the door opened.
A doctor entered holding a folder.
“Mr. Rossi.”
Lorenzo stood.
“What did you find?”
The doctor hesitated.
“The records were accessed through an administrative terminal.”
“Can you trace it?”
“Not completely.”
“Why not?”
“Because someone deleted the access logs.”
Lorenzo's face went cold.
“Inside the hospital?”
“Yes.”
He turned toward me.
“Hunter.”
I stood.
“What?”
“Where did you deliver your baby?”
“St. Catherine's.”
“When?”
“Three weeks before I started here.”
The doctor suddenly looked at me.
“What was your baby's blood type?”
I frowned.
“Why?”
“Please.”
I told him.
He went silent.
Lorenzo noticed.
“What?”
The doctor swallowed.
“Leo's blood type is the same.”
“That proves nothing,” I said.
“No,” the doctor replied. “It doesn't.”
But his expression said otherwise.
Later that morning, Lorenzo ordered a private DNA test.
I refused.
He didn't threaten me.
That somehow frightened me more.
“I need answers,” he said.
“So do I.”
“Then let me investigate.”
“You don't get to investigate my dead child.”
His eyes darkened.
“Hunter—”
“No.”
I walked away.
I made it halfway down the corridor before someone grabbed my arm.
I spun around.
It was Elena Rossi.
Lorenzo's older sister.
I'd seen her before but rarely spoken to her.
She wore an elegant cream-colored dress and a smile that never reached her eyes.
“You should be careful,” she said.
I pulled my arm free.
“About what?”
“Men like Lorenzo become irrational when it comes to their children.”
“I noticed.”
She smiled.
“And women who get too close to them tend to disappear.”
My stomach tightened.
“Is that a threat?”
“No.”
She leaned closer.
“Advice.”
Then she walked away.
That afternoon, Leo fed again.
The doctors were stunned.
His oxygen levels improved.
His temperature stabilized.
For the first time in weeks, his weight stopped falling.
The news spread through the mansion.
And with it came whispers.
The maid had saved the boss's baby.
I hated every second of the attention.
That evening, Lorenzo entered the nursery while I was feeding Leo.
He stood silently by the door.
“Does he always calm down with you?”
“Usually.”
“Why?”
“I don't know.”
He came closer.
Leo opened his eyes.
For a moment, father and son stared at each other.
Lorenzo touched the baby's hand.
Leo wrapped his tiny fingers around his father's thumb.
The expression on Lorenzo's face nearly broke me.
“I haven't seen him do that.”
“Maybe he's tired of everyone treating him like a patient.”
A faint smile appeared.
“You're not afraid of me.”
“I am.”
He looked at me.
“You don't act like it.”
“I've lost the person I was most afraid of losing.”
He understood immediately.
That night, he found me in the kitchen.
“Hunter.”
I turned.
He held a photograph.
A newborn baby.
My breath caught.
“Where did you get that?”
“Your hospital records.”
My hands began shaking.
“That isn't my son.”
“No.”
He turned the photograph around.
It showed Leo.
Except the picture was dated the same day Noah was born.
I stared at it.
Impossible.
Leo had been born after the bombing.
The date was wrong.
“That's not possible.”
“I know.”
Lorenzo stepped closer.
“That's why I ordered the DNA test.”
My heart pounded.
“And?”
“We got preliminary results.”
He handed me the report.
I read the first line.
Then the second.
My vision blurred.
The report didn't say Leo was my son.
It said something far more frightening.
There was a biological relationship between me and the Rossi family.
A close one.
Lorenzo watched my face.
“Hunter…”
I looked up.
“What did the doctors do with my baby after he died?”
His expression changed.
“I don't know.”
“Find out.”
“I will.”
“No.”
I stepped closer.
“You're going to help me find out.”
Before he could answer, a gunshot exploded somewhere outside.
The mansion lights went dark.
Leo began screaming.
And from the hallway came the sound of men shouting.
Lorenzo immediately pulled his weapon.
“Stay here.”
Then he disappeared into the darkness.
I clutched Leo against my chest.
May you like
And heard someone whisper outside the nursery door:
“Take the baby.”
