The single sentence on the glowing screen seemed to burn directly into Elena’s retinas, freezing the blood in her veins. Her breath caught in her throat as she stared at the words, the newborn’s sharp wails suddenly sounding muffled, as if underwater. He isn’t Lucas’s.

«No…» Elena breathed, her body trembling violently as she clutched the baby tighter against her chest. «No, that’s impossible.»

A dark pool of blood was expanding rapidly from beneath Lucas’s head, soaking into the intricate threads of the terracotta rug. His face was impossibly pale, his breathing shallow and rattling. Elena forced her eyes away from the screen, jammed the phone into her own pocket, and pressed her palm against the base of his skull to apply pressure. The crimson liquid oozed hot through her fingers.

«Lucas, stay with me! Please, Lucas!» she sobbed, pressing her forehead against his cool cheek.

From down the hallway, the low, reverberating thrum of the penthouse’s private elevator announced its arrival. A second later, the double doors chimed open. Heavy, synchronized footsteps echoed off the marble floor of the grand foyer.

Elena’s heart hammered against her ribs like a trapped bird. Was it the police already? Or had Helena returned with help? She scrambled backward on her knees, dragging Lucas’s upper body toward the couch to protect him, her hands slippery with his blood.

Two men in dark, tailored suits stepped into the living room. Neither wore a police uniform. The taller man, carrying a sleek black leather briefcase, swept his cool grey eyes over the overturned furniture, the shattered glass, and the pool of blood before fixing his gaze directly on Elena.

«Elena Vance,» the man said, his voice smooth, devoid of any surprise or alarm. «Or should I say, Elena Rostova?»

Elena went rigid. That was a name she hadn’t heard in six years—a life she had meticulously buried under forged documents and a fabricated identity before ever stepping foot into the city.

«Who are you?» Elena demanded, her voice raw, placing herself defensively between the men and Lucas. «Did Helena send you?»

The man ignored her question entirely. He stepped forward, calmly unlatching the black briefcase. «Your mother-in-law is currently being detained in the parking garage. However, we aren’t here for her. We are here to secure the child.»

«Touch him and I’ll kill you,» Elena snarled, reaching blindly behind her until her fingers wrapped around the heavy, fallen bronze statuette Helena had used moments before.

The second man moved with terrifying speed. Before Elena could raise the weapon, his heavy boot pinned her wrist to the floor, forcing her fingers to unlock. Pain shot up her forearm, but she refused to cry out. Instead, she used her free arm to shield the infant as the taller man knelt beside her.

He didn’t reach for the baby. Instead, he pulled a small, silver syringe from his coat pocket and deftly slid the needle into the soft crook of Lucas’s neck, depressing the plunger before Elena could even scream.

«What did you do to him?!» she shrieked, thrashing against the guard’s grip. «What did you give him?!»

«A stabilizing agent,» the tall man replied coldly, standing back up and adjusting his cuff links. «Mr. Vance will survive the head trauma, provided he receives medical attention within the next twenty minutes. Which he will—as soon as you hand over the digital flash drive hidden inside the baby’s mustard blanket.»

Elena’s mind reeled. The blanket?

She looked down at the soft yellow fleece wrapped around the baby. When Lucas had grabbed the infant from the bassinet, he hadn’t just been saving his son. He had been retrieving something else.

Her fingers frantically searched the double-stitched hem of the blanket until she felt a hard, thin rectangle concealed deep within the padding.

«You’re lying,» Elena said, her voice dropping to a dangerous whisper, her eyes darting to the secondary phone still in her pocket. «The text… the DNA test. Who sent that message?»

The tall man offered a faint, chilling smile. «The same person who paid for your fake identity six years ago, Elena. The same person who placed you in this house.»

He retrieved a tablet from his briefcase, tapped the screen twice, and turned it toward her. On the display was a live feed of an interrogation room. Sitting on one side of the glass, handcuffed and pale, was Helena. Sitting on the other side, looking immaculate in a tailored charcoal suit, was a man Elena recognized instantly—a man who was supposed to have died in a car crash four years ago.

Her father.

«He gives you ten seconds to hand over the drive,» the man said smoothly, pulling a silenced firearm from his shoulder holster and aiming it straight at Lucas’s chest. «Or we ensure your husband never wakes up to learn who his child really belongs to.»

Elena felt the world tilting beneath her feet. Her breathing hitched as the man began to count down.

«Three… two…»

«Wait!» Elena gasped, ripping the hem of the blanket open and pulling out the sleek black flash drive. She held it up, her hand shaking violently. «Take it! Just call the paramedics!»

The man snatched the drive from her hand, verified its serial number, and nodded to his partner. The guard released Elena’s wrist and stepped back.

«The ambulance is already on its way up,» the tall man said, stepping toward the private elevator. «Oh, and Elena? I suggest you check the baby’s left ankle.»

Before she could process his words, the elevator doors slid shut, leaving her alone in the quiet, blood-stained room with her unconscious husband and the crying child.

Scrambling on her hands and knees, Elena unwrapped the yellow blanket with panicked, trembling fingers. She pulled back the tiny foot of the infant’s onesie.

Engraved neatly into a thin, plastic hospital tracking band snapped around the baby’s ankle was a birthdate—and a name that wasn’t Leo.

It was a girl’s name. And the birthdate was two weeks before she had given birth.

A low chime echoed from her pocket. She pulled out Lucas’s unlisted phone with a blood-smeared hand. A new text message flashed onto the screen:

“Look under the bassinet mattress. You have five minutes before the police break down the door.”