Chapter 9 - BABY SEVENTEEN
We found Baby Seventeen's name at three in the morning.
Not because Alessandro’s people discovered it.
Because I recognized a nursing abbreviation.
The transfer form included three letters beside the redacted maternal line.
SFD.
Marco assumed they referred to a physician.
I knew better.
“Safe delivery.”
He looked at me.
“What?”
“Some hospitals used internal codes for anonymous or protected births.”
“Meaning?”
“A mother could deliver under restricted identity procedures.”
“Why?”
“Domestic violence.”
“Witness protection.”
“Adoption.”
“Occasionally other circumstances.”
I scrolled through the records.
The mother's name had been intentionally removed.
But one laboratory document included a matching patient number.
Then another.
Then another.
Finally, an ultrasound report.
A name appeared in the metadata.
ELENA VITALE.
Everyone froze.
Alessandro whispered.
“Carlo's sister.”
I stared at him.
“Carlo Vitale?”
“Yes.”
“What happened to her?”
“She died.”
“When?”
“Six years ago.”
“After childbirth?”
“I never knew she was pregnant.”
Enzo sat down heavily.
“I did.”
Alessandro turned.
“What?”
Enzo looked miserable.
“Your father knew.”
“My father was dead by then.”
“Before he died.”
“He knew Elena was pregnant.”
The timeline felt impossible.
“Who was the father?”
Enzo looked toward Alessandro.
“Vittorio.”
Nobody spoke.
Alessandro’s uncle had impregnated Carlo Vitale's younger sister.
A child had been born secretly in Ohio.
That child was transferred to Italy through organizations linked to Vittorio.
“Why Ohio?” I asked.
Enzo shook his head.
“Vittorio had business there.”
“St. Agnes.”
“Possibly.”
“What happened to the child?”
“No one knew.”
Alessandro stared at the screen.
“Baby Seventeen.”
Marco opened another document.
A genetic laboratory invoice.
The patient number matched.
“DNA analysis.”
My heartbeat accelerated.
“Results?”
“Missing.”
Another file contained only an email.
Paternity confirmed. V.M. informed.
Vittorio Moretti.
Alessandro sat down.
“If that child is alive, he would be nearly six.”
“Why would your father say the family would burn if Vittorio found him?”
“Because Vittorio probably believed the baby died.”
“Who told him?”
“I don't know.”
Enzo spoke.
“Your father.”
Everyone looked at him.
“What are you talking about?”
Enzo rubbed his face.
“Your father discovered what Vittorio was doing.”
“He believed Elena was being forced to hide the pregnancy.”
“He arranged for her to leave Italy.”
“Then why did she end up connected to St. Agnes?”
“Because your father had friends in America.”
I pointed toward the records.
“Friends named Bennett?”
“Perhaps.”
Alessandro laughed bitterly.
“So my father used the same people who later covered it up.”
“Maybe they betrayed him,” I said.
Nobody liked that possibility.
Marco continued searching.
Another record.
An adoption file.
He opened it.
The adoptive parents' names were sealed.
But one portion had not been properly redacted.
Child placement jurisdiction: Franklin County, Ohio.
My stomach tightened.
That was my county.
“What are the odds?”
“Low,” Marco said.
Then the adoption agency name appeared.
New Horizons Family Services.
I stopped breathing.
Maya's preschool held a charity fundraiser for them every year.
Derek's mother sat on the board.
“No.”
I grabbed my phone.
I searched old photographs.
Christmas dinners.
Campaign events.
Fundraisers.
Then I found one.
Derek's family at the New Horizons annual gala.
His mother stood beside a little boy.
Dark hair.
Gray eyes.
Perhaps five years old.
The caption beneath the photograph said:
BENNETT FAMILY WELCOMES FOSTER SON NOAH.
I had met Noah once.
Derek called him a distant cousin.
The child lived mostly with Derek's parents.
He rarely appeared at family events.
I enlarged the photograph.
Alessandro stopped breathing.
“What?”
He took my phone.
Noah had a distinctive cleft in his chin.
The same cleft Alessandro had.
The same cleft Vittorio displayed in old photographs online.
“Baby Seventeen,” Marco whispered.
The missing baby had been living less than ten miles from me for years.
Inside Derek's family.
I felt sick.
“Why keep him?”
“Leverage,” Alessandro said.
“Against Vittorio?”
“Against everyone.”
I remembered Warren Bennett's obsession with privacy.
The locked office.
The unexplained trips.
Derek forbidding me to ask questions about Noah.
My marriage suddenly looked like one tiny piece of a much larger machine.
Then Maya appeared in the doorway.
She held her stuffed rabbit.
“Mommy?”
I rushed to her.
“What are you doing awake?”
“I heard voices.”
“Sorry.”
She looked at my phone.
“That's Noah.”
Every adult froze.
“You know him?”
She nodded.
“Daddy takes me to play with him.”
My blood went cold.
“When?”
“When you worked at the store.”
I had worked part-time at a pharmacy for six months.
Derek often watched Maya.
“Where?”
“Grandpa's other house.”
I stared at her.
“What other house?”
“The one with the red door.”
Derek's parents had no red door.
“Who was there?”
“Daddy.”
“Grandpa.”
“Uncle Ryan.”
“Anybody else?”
Maya thought.
“A scary old man.”
My pulse accelerated.
“What did he look like?”
She shrugged.
“White hair.”
“Glasses?”
“Yes.”
Alessandro and I looked at each other.
Vittorio.
“When did you see him?”
Maya held up three fingers.
“Three times?”
She nodded.
My entire body chilled.
Vittorio had not just appeared on our flight.
He had already been in Ohio.
Meeting Derek.
Meeting Warren.
Seeing Baby Seventeen.
“Did the old man talk to Noah?”
“Yes.”
“What did he say?”
Maya frowned as she tried to remember.
Then she repeated a sentence that made Alessandro stand so quickly his chair struck the wall.
“He said, ‘Your real family is going to need you soon.’”
The room went silent.
I hugged Maya.
Alessandro stared toward the dark windows.
May you like
Vittorio had already found his son.
Which meant whatever his father had tried to prevent had already begun.
