Chapter 5 - The Wife Who Was Supposed to Be DeadNobody moved.
Even Luca stopped crying.
Isabella stepped forward slowly.
Alessandro looked as though someone had removed the floor beneath him.
“You're dead.”
She smiled.
“I was supposed to be.”
He raised his gun.
I grabbed his wrist.
“No.”
His eyes flashed toward me.
“She tried to take the baby.”
“And shooting her won't tell us why.”
He stared at me.
For a moment I wondered whether he would pull the trigger anyway.
Then Isabella laughed.
“You always did hate unanswered questions.”
Alessandro lowered the weapon.
“Why are you here?”
“To take back my son.”
He looked at Luca.
“No.”
“He isn't yours.”
Her voice was almost gentle.
“That is what they told you.”
I felt cold.
I asked:
“Who are you?”
She looked at me.
“A mother.”
Then she looked at Luca.
“His mother.”
Alessandro stepped forward.
“You abandoned him.”
“No.”
“You left us.”
“They took me.”
“Who?”
Isabella's expression changed.
“The people you're about to meet.”
I felt Luca twitch against my chest.
Isabella noticed.
“Do you know why he stopped crying when you held him?”
I said nothing.
“Because he recognizes something.”
My heart stopped.
“Me?”
“No.”
She looked at my face.
“Your milk.”
The words sounded obscene in the tense cabin.
But Isabella continued.
“He was exposed to your scent before.”
I frowned.
“Impossible.”
“Not impossible.”
She approached.
“When you worked at St. Catherine's.”
I froze.
My old hospital.
“You know that hospital?”
Isabella nodded.
“You handled premature twins there.”
I felt the blood drain from my face.
“Which twins?”
“You already know.”
I looked at Luca.
She whispered:
“Your daughter was one of them.”
I almost dropped him.
“What?”
“My son was born prematurely.”
She stepped closer.
“So was your daughter.”
“No.”
“Maya and Luca were born three days apart.”
My mind raced.
Maya had been born at thirty-five weeks.
There had been complications.
She'd spent four days in neonatal observation.
I had never been told anything unusual.
Isabella continued.
“There was another baby.”
I stared at her.
“What are you saying?”
“A baby whose mother died during delivery.”
A cold knot formed in my stomach.
“You switched them.”
Isabella nodded.
“Not me.”
“Who?”
She looked toward the cockpit.
“The hospital.”
The aircraft shook again.
A warning alarm sounded.
The cabin lights turned red.
Alessandro looked at his guard.
“What now?”
The guard checked his phone.
“Sir, we've lost navigation.”
The captain on the floor laughed.
Isabella looked at me.
“They're coming.”
“Who?”
She leaned close enough that only I could hear.
“The people who stole your daughter.”
My world stopped.
Maya.
My little girl.
I had spent four days believing I was saving her.
But what if the life I'd remembered was built on a lie?
What if someone had spent years watching her?
What if leaving Ohio hadn't protected her?
What if it had exposed her?
Then Isabella whispered the sentence that shattered me.
“Your husband didn't hurt Maya because he lost control.”
May you like
She looked at me.
“He was trying to find out whether you knew.”
