CHAPTER 2: “FIFTEEN YEARS IS NEVER JUST HISTORY”
The Corsetti estate did not feel like a home.
It felt like a controlled memory.
Everything was too precise.
Too quiet.
Too expensive to be accidental.
Serena stood in the medical wing office, reviewing neonatal charts under surveillance that pretended not to exist.
Vincent was not in the room.
But his presence was everywhere.
A man like him didn’t need to stand beside you to occupy your space.
He owned it anyway.
Serena flipped another page.
Then stopped.
Her breath caught.
A file.
Old.
Archived.
Misclassified.
Her fingers hovered.
Then opened it.
Her expression changed.
For the first time since the delivery room—
fear entered her face.
A nurse noticed.
“Miss Hayes?”
Serena didn’t answer.
She was reading.
And remembering.
A fire.
Not literal.
Institutional.
A hospital audit.
A corruption purge.
A scandal involving neonatal mismanagement and “untraceable infant transfer protocols.”
Children moved.
Records erased.
Identities wiped.
She turned the page faster.
Then froze completely.
A handwritten note.
CASE CLOSED — CORSETTI FAMILY REQUEST
Serena stepped back like she’d been hit.
“No,” she whispered.
The nurse frowned.
“Is something wrong?”
Serena’s voice barely held together.
“This hospital… transferred infants under Corsetti authorization?”
The nurse paled.
“I… I don’t know about that level of clearance—”
But Serena wasn’t listening anymore.
Her heart rate spiked.
Pain shot through her chest.
She grabbed the counter.
Breathe.
In.
Out.
Too fast.
Too shallow.
Her condition flared.
The arrhythmia she had ignored for years suddenly demanded attention.
She swallowed it down.
Not now.
Not here.
The door opened.
Vincent entered.
He saw her immediately.
He saw the file.
He saw her reaction.
Everything in him went still.
“What did you find?” he asked.
Serena didn’t look at him.
Her voice was barely above a whisper.
“You don’t remember me.”
Vincent paused.
That was not the answer he expected.
Serena turned slowly.
Her face was pale now.
Not from fear alone.
From recognition colliding with something long buried.
“You don’t remember,” she repeated.
“But I remember you.”
Vincent stepped closer.
“I’ve never seen you before in my life.”
Serena let out a small, broken laugh.
“That’s the point.”
Silence.
Then she held up the file.
“Fifteen years ago,” she said, “your family erased a hospital case.”
Vincent’s expression did not change.
But something behind it sharpened.
Serena continued.
“A child died in records.”
A pause.
“Or at least… that’s what everyone was told.”
Her eyes locked onto his.
“But I wasn’t told.”
Vincent’s voice dropped.
“Who was the child?”
Serena swallowed.
Then answered.
“Me.”
The room stopped breathing.
Even the air felt suspended.
Vincent stared at her.
For the first time—
not as a doctor.
Not as a worker.
But as something unplaceable.
Serena continued, voice shaking now.
“I was the child your family declared dead to cover a transfer scandal.”
A pause.
“I grew up in foster systems under a false identity.”
Her eyes burned.
“And I learned how to restart hearts because no one ever came back for mine.”
Silence shattered the room.
Vincent did not speak.
Not immediately.
Because in his world—
he had buried enemies.
Ruined rivals.
Destroyed empires.
But he had never—
never—
May you like
buried a child.
And not known.
