Six days after giving birth to our daughter, my husband walked out of our house to celebrate his mistress's birthday. He promised he'd be home before nine, but hours later, I was still alone with our newborn when a voicemail from an unknown number appeared on my phone. By the time Roman Moretti finally came home, the nursery was empty—and the most feared mafia boss in Milwaukee was about to discover what it felt like to lose everything.

I couldn't understand what I was seeing.

Daniel had risked his life to rescue us. He had driven us away from our house, found the clinic records, and helped expose the fake DNA report.

Now he was driving away with Nicholas.

"Call him," I whispered.

Roman tried.

No answer.

He called again.

The phone went straight to voicemail.

Antonio watched us with quiet satisfaction.

"Your brother has always been ambitious," he said. "He simply needed someone to offer him a better future."

I turned on him.

"What did you promise Daniel?"

"Nothing he hadn't already decided he wanted."

Roman ordered his men to search the property, but Antonio's security system had locked the outer gates. The house was designed to isolate its occupants from the outside world.

I refused to wait.

I took the house phone and called the number printed on Nicholas's medical bracelet. It connected to a private neonatal facility.

A nurse answered.

I identified myself as the child's emergency contact and asked whether a transfer had been authorized.

The nurse checked the records.

Then she said, "Mrs. Moretti, Nicholas was discharged six months ago."

My blood went cold.

"Six months?"

"Yes. He was transferred to a foster placement under court supervision. The Moretti family was listed as having no legal custody."

I looked at Roman.

Antonio's expression changed.

The baby in the carrier at Laya's party hadn't been Nicholas.

It had been a decoy.

Someone had used a real infant to distract us while the actual child remained hidden elsewhere.

I asked the nurse for the foster placement address, but she refused to release confidential information. I didn't blame her.

Instead, I asked one question.

"Who signed the discharge papers?"

She checked the file.

"Daniel Gallagher."

My brother hadn't kidnapped Nicholas.

He had been protecting him under a court order.

Antonio's face darkened as he realized his plan had failed.

Then the house phone rang.

Roman answered.

Daniel's voice came through, breathless.

"Aaron, listen. I'm with Nicholas. He's safe, but we have a problem."

"What problem?"

"Someone accessed the foster placement records. They know where we are."

A crash sounded over the line.

Daniel shouted.

Then the call ended.

Roman grabbed his coat.

I held Sophie tighter.

"We're going after them."

He looked at me.

"It's dangerous."

"I know."

"I could lose you."

"You nearly did."

He flinched.

For a moment, neither of us moved.

Then Roman nodded.

"No more secrets."

We left through the rear entrance, using a service road that bypassed Antonio's security gates. As we reached the car, my phone vibrated with a message from Daniel.

A location.

A photograph of Nicholas sleeping in a hospital bassinet.