Chapter 3 - The Wrong BabyThe gunshot never came.
Marco looked directly at Alessandro.
Then at me.
Then at Luca.
His gaze stopped on the baby.
“Give him to me.”
Alessandro stepped forward.
“No.”
Marco smiled.
“You don't understand.”
“I understand perfectly.”
“No, Alessandro.”
Marco tilted his head.
“You're still thinking like a father.”
His eyes sharpened.
“I'm thinking like the man who built your empire.”
The words froze the cabin.
I looked at Alessandro.
He stared at Marco as if he had just seen a ghost.
One of the bodyguards fired.
Marco ducked.
The bullet struck the overhead compartment.
Passengers screamed.
I dropped instinctively over Luca.
Alessandro grabbed my shoulder.
“Stay down!”
The cabin erupted into chaos.
People cried.
Children screamed.
Oxygen masks dropped.
Someone ran toward the rear.
Someone else crawled beneath seats.
Marco disappeared behind the galley wall.
Then silence.
A terrifying silence.
Alessandro looked at his guards.
“Find him.”
One nodded.
The other stopped.
“Sir.”
“What?”
“He wasn't after you.”
Alessandro looked down.
Luca was still in his arms.
“What?”
The guard's face was pale.
“He wasn't aiming at you.”
He pointed.
A bullet had struck the seat directly behind Luca.
Alessandro went still.
“They wanted the baby.”
I looked at Luca.
Something felt wrong.
I couldn't explain it.
The angle.
The timing.
The way Marco had entered.
The way he hadn't fired when he had a perfect shot at Alessandro.
He had been trying to create chaos.
Not kill anyone.
Take someone.
I stepped closer.
“Alessandro.”
He looked at me.
“Your son.”
“What about him?”
“Let me see his wrist.”
He frowned.
“Why?”
“Please.”
He hesitated.
Then carefully moved Luca's sleeve.
A tiny hospital bracelet was wrapped around the baby's wrist.
I stared at it.
There was a name printed on it.
Luca Moretti.
But beneath the name was a number.
I recognized the format.
My stomach dropped.
“That isn't a newborn identification number.”
Alessandro stared at me.
“What does that mean?”
“It means this bracelet was made later.”
“What?”
“Hospital bracelets issued immediately after birth are coded differently.”
The color drained from his face.
“Are you saying it's fake?”
“I don't know.”
He stared at his son.
I reached for the bracelet.
“Let me.”
He allowed it.
I turned it over.
On the inside was a tiny printed sequence.
Six digits.
My blood went cold.
I had seen that number before.
Not on a hospital bracelet.
On a chart.
Four years earlier.
In a neonatal intensive care unit.
I looked at Alessandro.
“I've seen this code.”
“Where?”
“At the hospital where I worked.”
His face hardened.
“When?”
“After a multiple birth.”
“What does it mean?”
I looked at Luca.
“I don't know yet.”
One of the bodyguards returned.
“Sir, Marco is gone.”
Alessandro's eyes snapped toward him.
“Gone?”
“He disappeared into the service corridor.”
“How?”
“He knew the aircraft.”
That sentence changed everything.
This wasn't an attack by someone outside.
Someone inside had helped him.
Alessandro turned toward the cockpit.
“Lock every door.”
Then I heard something.
A tiny rustle.
Luca's sleeve shifted.
The bracelet had opened.
Inside it was a folded strip of paper.
I pulled it free.
There were only four words.
THE BABY ISN'T LUCA.
I looked up.
Alessandro was staring at me.
“What's written there?”
I couldn't answer.
May you like
Because suddenly every explanation I had been given about this child had become a lie.
And someone had just risked hijacking a transatlantic flight to steal a baby whose identity might not even belong to him.
