Chapter 2 - The Nurse Who Ran
Melissa barely made it through the restaurant doors before Roman’s security team moved.
Donovan was faster than I expected from a man built like a retired heavyweight boxer.
He caught the glass door before it closed and disappeared into the night.
I followed.
“Pamela!”
Roman called after me.
I ignored him.
Chicago rain had started falling in thin silver lines beneath the streetlights.
Melissa ran toward the alley beside Bella Rosa.
“Melissa!”
She looked over her shoulder.
That was her mistake.
Her heel slipped on wet pavement.
She hit the wall, recovered, and kept moving.
I reached the alley seconds after Donovan.
Two of Roman’s men were already blocking the far exit.
Melissa stopped.
She was trapped.
“Please,” she said.
Not to me.
To Roman.
He had followed us outside, carrying my daughter.
My daughter.
The thought entered my mind before I could stop it.
One of the boys was balanced on his other arm, while another guard carried the second child behind him.
The little girl was no longer crying.
Her fingers were curled around Roman’s jacket.
Melissa stared at the children.
Then she started shaking.
I walked toward her.
“You told me they died.”
She looked away.
“You sat beside my hospital bed.”
“I know.”
“You gave me the certificates.”
“I know.”
“You watched me beg to see their bodies.”
Tears filled her eyes.
“I know.”
My voice cracked.
“Then tell me why.”
Melissa pressed both hands to her face.
Roman spoke behind me.
“Start with who paid you.”
She flinched.
I turned toward him.
“You knew?”
“No.”
“You suspected.”
“I suspect everyone.”
“This is my life.”
“And theirs.”
He glanced at the children.
“Whether you like it or not, Pamela, whatever happened connects us now.”
I hated him for being right.
Melissa slid down the wall.
“They said nobody would get hurt.”
A sound escaped me somewhere between a laugh and a sob.
“Nobody?”
“I was told you were going to lose custody anyway.”
“I didn’t even have custody yet. I had just given birth!”
She started crying harder.
“They told me you had no money. No family. That the babies needed extensive medical care and would probably end up in foster care.”
“Who told you?”
Melissa shook her head.
Roman took one step forward.
“Name.”
She closed her eyes.
“Dr. Elias Hart.”
I knew the name.
Everyone who delivered at St. Matthew’s did.
Hart was the chief of maternal medicine.
The polished silver-haired physician who had entered my room after surgery.
The man who had looked me in the eyes and said all three of my babies had died.
My stomach turned.
“He signed the death certificates.”
Melissa nodded.
“He arranged everything.”
“Why?”
“I don’t know.”
Roman looked toward Donovan.
“Find Hart.”
Donovan made a call.
Melissa suddenly stared at Roman.
“You don’t understand.”
“Then explain.”
“They weren’t supposed to go to you.”
Roman’s face became completely expressionless.
That scared me more than anger.
“What did you say?”
Melissa swallowed.
“The babies were supposed to disappear into a private adoption network. People paid a lot of money for newborns. More for siblings. Much more for healthy multiples.”
I nearly fell.
Roman’s hand reached toward me.
I stepped away.
“Healthy?”
My voice sounded distant.
“I was told they died because they were too sick to survive.”
Melissa looked ashamed.
“They were premature, but stable.”
Stable.
One word.
Fourteen months of grief collapsed under one word.
I screamed.
I didn’t know I was going to.
The sound tore out of me.
I hit the wall with both hands.
“They were alive?”
Melissa sobbed.
“Yes.”
I bent forward.
Rain ran through my hair.
Someone touched my shoulder.
Roman.
I struck his hand away.
“Don’t.”
He withdrew.
No argument.
No command.
The triplets started crying at the sound of my voice.
I turned.
My little girl reached for me.
Roman held her out.
I took her.
She pressed her wet cheek against my neck.
Something primitive and devastating moved through me.
“They stole you.”
The words escaped before I could stop them.
The child made a soft sound.
“Mom.”
I closed my eyes.
Roman looked away.
For the first time, I wondered what this revelation was doing to him.
He believed they were his.
Was he their biological father?
Had he adopted them?
Had someone lied to him too?
Melissa gave the answer before I could ask.
“Mr. Voss didn’t buy them.”
Roman’s eyes snapped toward her.
“What?”
“You were never part of Hart’s plan.”
“Explain.”
“One of the brokers panicked after the delivery. Federal investigators had started asking questions about falsified adoption records. The broker was supposed to transport the babies out of Illinois.”
She looked at him.
“But someone intercepted the vehicle.”
Roman’s jaw tightened.
“My brother.”
Melissa nodded.
That shocked me.
Roman’s younger brother, Adrian Voss, had died twelve months earlier in what newspapers called a highway accident.
Roman said quietly, “Adrian brought them to me.”
“Yes.”
“He told me their mother abandoned them.”
“He probably believed that.”
Roman looked down.
A strange grief crossed his face.
Adrian had rescued the babies.
Then died two months later.
Coincidence suddenly seemed unlikely.
“Was his accident connected?” I asked.
Melissa looked terrified.
“I don’t know.”
Roman looked at Donovan.
Donovan already had his phone out.
“Reopen everything.”
Melissa grabbed my wrist.
“Pamela.”
I jerked away.
“What?”
“There’s something else.”
Of course there was.
There was always something else.
“One of the babies was nearly taken again after Adrian got them.”
Roman’s expression sharpened.
“When?”
“A week later.”
“I was never told.”
“Because the attempt failed.”
“Who?”
“I don’t know.”
Roman stepped closer.
“You’re lying.”
“I’m not.”
“You know more.”
Melissa looked at the children.
“I know Hart never stopped looking for them.”
Cold spread through me.
“Why?”
“They were evidence.”
“Evidence of what?”
She shook her head.
“I only handled paperwork.”
Roman crouched in front of her.
“Dr. Hart stole three newborn babies from their mother, falsified their deaths, and arranged to sell them. Those children ended up in my home. My brother died shortly afterward. Now you’re telling me Hart has been searching for them.”
His voice remained almost gentle.
“Choose your next answer carefully.”
Melissa whispered, “There was a ledger.”
Donovan stopped typing.
Roman’s eyes narrowed.
“What ledger?”
“Birth mothers. Payments. Buyers. Staff involved.”
“Where?”
“Hart kept copies.”
“And the original?”
“I don’t know.”
“Who does?”
Melissa stared at me.
“Your obstetrician.”
I frowned.
“Dr. Karen Bishop?”
Melissa nodded.
“Bishop tried to stop it.”
My breath caught.
“What happened to her?”
“She disappeared the morning after your delivery.”
I remembered.
At my six-week follow-up, I had asked for Dr. Bishop.
A receptionist told me she had unexpectedly relocated.
No forwarding address.
No goodbye.
Nothing.
Roman stood.
“Donovan.”
“Already searching.”
Police sirens approached somewhere nearby.
Melissa panicked.
“You can’t let them take me.”
I stared at her.
“Why shouldn’t I?”
“Because Hart owns people inside the department.”
Roman looked at Donovan.
Donovan nodded once.
Possible.
I hated that world.
A world where everyone apparently knew there were invisible systems controlling hospitals and police departments while I had been working double shifts believing my babies were buried somewhere.
“Pamela.”
Roman’s voice softened.
“We need to leave.”
“I am not going to your house.”
“You shouldn’t go to yours.”
“My apartment is none of your business.”
“Hart knows your name now.”
I froze.
“How?”
Roman glanced toward the restaurant.
“Melissa entered the same room where his missing evidence just called you Mom in front of seventy witnesses.”
That was enough.
My phone buzzed.
Unknown number.
I looked at the screen.
A text.
YOU SHOULD HAVE LET THE DEAD STAY DEAD.
My blood went cold.
Roman saw my face.
“What?”
I showed him.
His expression changed instantly.
Donovan took the phone.
“Trace it.”
Another message arrived.
THIS IS YOUR ONLY WARNING.
Then an image.
My apartment building.
Taken minutes earlier.
I stared at it.
Roman didn’t ask again.
“You’re coming with me.”
For once, I didn’t argue.
Twenty minutes later, I sat inside a black SUV with the little girl asleep against my chest.
Roman sat opposite me with one sleeping boy in each arm.
Chicago lights passed beyond tinted windows.
Neither of us spoke.
Finally, I whispered, “What are their names?”
Roman looked at me.
The question seemed to hurt.
“The oldest is Leo.”
He touched the boy nearest his chest.
“Miles.”
Then he looked at the girl in my arms.
“And Lily.”
My heart squeezed.
“Lily.”
She shifted against me.
I brushed a curl from her forehead.
“What did you call them?”
Roman asked.
“Before they were born?”
I nodded.
“I didn’t have final names.”
I smiled through tears.
“I called one Storm because he kicked whenever there was thunder.”
Roman stared at Leo.
“He’s terrified of thunderstorms.”
I stopped breathing.
“One was Sunshine. He always became active in the morning.”
Roman looked at Miles.
“He wakes at sunrise every day.”
My eyes moved to Lily.
“And her?”
Roman asked.
“Little Bird.”
Silence.
Roman’s expression broke.
“She makes chirping noises in her sleep.”
I covered my mouth.
For several minutes, neither of us could speak.
Then Donovan turned from the front passenger seat.
“We found Dr. Hart.”
Roman’s face hardened.
“Where?”
“His house is empty.”
“Hospital?”
“Gone.”
“When?”
“Security footage shows him leaving twenty-six minutes after Pamela first approached your table.”
My stomach tightened.
He had known immediately.
Donovan continued.
“But we found something else.”
He held up his phone.
“Dr. Karen Bishop is alive.”
I leaned forward.
“Where?”
“A town outside Milwaukee.”
Relief hit me.
Then Donovan’s expression darkened.
“She’s been living under another name for fourteen months.”
“Why?”
“We don’t know.”
He hesitated.
“But twenty minutes ago, someone broke into her house.”
Roman sat straighter.
“Is she alive?”
Donovan looked at me.
“We don’t know.”
The SUV accelerated.
I held Lily tighter.
Behind us, somewhere in Chicago, a man who had once convinced me my children were dead was running.
Ahead of us was the doctor who might finally explain why.
And between those two truths sat one terrifying possibility neither Roman nor I had spoken aloud.
If Hart had stolen my babies once…
he might come back to finish what he started.
May you like
But what we found inside Dr. Bishop’s abandoned house the next morning would reveal that my triplets had never been the true target at all. I was.
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