Chapter 3 - Unraveling the Threads
Mark rushed to the crib, his face pale. He pulled back the blanket further, inspecting both of the infant's feet, then her knees, then her shoulders. He rubbed his hand over his face, sweat suddenly glistening on his forehead.
"Maybe... maybe birthmarks fade? Or maybe it was just a temporary mark from delivery?" Mark suggested, his voice trembling. He was desperately trying to hold onto reality, pleading with his eyes for me to agree with him.
"Birthmarks don't disappear in forty-eight hours, Mark!" I cried out, my voice rising before I quickly hushed myself, afraid of waking the baby—or whoever this child was. "You saw it! The doctor showed it to us right after she was born! You took a picture on your phone!"
Mark pulled out his phone with shaking hands. He swiped rapidly through his photo gallery until he found the picture taken in the delivery room thirty minutes after her birth. He zoomed in on the baby's right ankle. There it was: a crisp, unmistakable dark mark shaped like a tilted heart.
He looked from the screen to the baby in the crib, then back to the screen. His face drained of all color. The truth, as impossible and terrifying as it was, settled heavy in the air between us.
Max stood at the nursery doorway, quiet now, watching us with solemn eyes. "I told you, Mommy. That's not Lily."
"Who is she then?" Mark whispered, sinking into the armchair beside the crib, looking completely broken. "Why would anyone swap our baby? Why would they leave another child in her place?"
"We need to go to the police," I said instantly, my motherly instincts surging past the terror. "Right now."
"Wait," Mark urged, standing up and grabbing my arms gently. "Sarah, think for a second. If we walk into a police station right now with a baby and say 'this isn't ours, someone traded her,' they're going to think we are having a psychotic break. We need proof. We need to look at the hospital records, the security footage, or get a DNA test done immediately."
"We don't have time for a slow DNA test!" I hissed. "Every hour that passes, our real daughter gets further away!"
"I know a guy," Mark said suddenly, his eyes widening as a thought struck him. "My former roommate, David. He runs a private diagnostic clinic. He can run a rush DNA panel for us in six hours if I take the samples over tonight. And... I still have a contact at the hospital security department from when my company installed their IT network."
I looked at the baby sleeping soundly in the crib. A strange, twisted pang of grief and instinct hit me. This innocent child had no idea she was a pawn in something sinister. She wasn't Lily, but she wasn't a monster either—she was a victim too.
"Okay," I agreed, my mind hardening with resolve. "Take the DNA swabs to David. Call your contact at the hospital. I'll stay here with Max and... this baby."
"Lock all the doors, Sarah," Mark said firmly, kissing my forehead and then hugging Max tightly. "Don't open the door for anyone except me."
After Mark left, I double-locked every door and checked the windows. I brought Max into our master bedroom, setting up a makeshift bed for him beside mine. The unknown baby slept in a portable playpen nearby.
Sitting on the edge of the bed, I held Max close. "You were very brave, Max," I murmured into his hair. "I'm so sorry I didn't believe you at first."
"Is Lily okay?" Max whispered.
"We are going to find her," I swore softly. "I promise you, Max. We are going to bring your sister home."
Late into the night, while Max finally drifted into an exhausted sleep, I sat on the floor, combing through my memory of the hospital stay. I remembered the nurse Max described—dark hair, gray coat. But hospital nurses wore scrubs, not gray coats. Unless... she wasn't a nurse at all.
My phone buzzed on the nightstand. It was a text message from an unknown number.
My heart leapt into my throat as I picked up the device. The message contained no text, only a single image file. I tapped to open it.
May you like
It was a clear photo of our real baby girl, wrapped in a yellow blanket, sleeping peacefully in a room I didn't recognize. Below the picture, a caption finally appeared:
“She is safe. Do not call the police if you ever want to see her alive again. Await further instructions.”
