Chapter 3 - The Secret Ward
Four hours passed like four eternities.
Elena had used a trusted contact at a private diagnostic clinic three blocks away—a former classmate who owed her a life debt. When the encrypted file hit her phone at 10:42 a.m., the results were undeniable: The DNA of the infant in Incubator Four shared zero markers with Roman Bolaro or his late wife, Lucia.
The child in the incubator was an unidentified newborn, deliberately placed there as a tragic proxy, slowly being kept near death through controlled chemical imbalances.
Elena slipped through the basement service corridors of St. Andrews, avoiding the main security cameras. Roman was waiting for her in an abandoned linen storage room near the old wing—a part of the hospital closed down for renovations six months ago.
Standing behind Roman were two men in dark suits, their faces impassive, their hands resting inside tailored coats.
"The test?" Roman asked as soon as the door shut.
"Zero match," Elena said, handing him her phone. "The baby in the NICU is a decoy. But while I was pulling the archived logs from the pharmacy server, I found something else. Sloan was billing specialized infant respiratory equipment to a closed unit on the sixth floor of the east wing—the old pediatric surgery center."
Roman’s eyes narrowed. "The wing that's supposed to be under asbestos abatement."
"It's locked off from the main elevators," Elena said. "Supposedly completely empty."
Roman turned to the taller of his two men. "Vince. Bring the team up through the fire escape. No silenced rounds unless absolutely necessary. I want Sloan alive until he tells me where my boy's heart is beating."
"Understood, Boss," Vince replied, slipping out into the hallway like a shadow.
Roman turned back to Elena. "You stay here. You've done enough. If this turns into a war, I can't guarantee your safety."
"I'm coming with you," Elena said without hesitation. "That baby—whoever he is, wherever he is—might be in critical condition. If he's been kept hidden in an abandoned wing for three weeks, he needs a medical professional, not three men with guns."
Roman stared at her for a long, heavy moment. In his world, people helped for power, money, or survival. Nobody risked their life for a child that wasn't theirs without an agenda.
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"You're either the bravest woman in this city, Elena Cross, or the dumbest," Roman said softly.
"I'm a nurse," she replied simply. "Lead the way."
