Chapter 1 - THE WOMAN HE REACHED FOR
Liana looked at Nico.
Then she looked back at Matteo.
“Because I know that cry.”
Matteo’s expression changed.
Not softened.
Changed.
The fear beneath his anger sharpened into suspicion.
“What does that mean?”
Liana opened her mouth.
Nothing came out.
How could she explain something she barely understood herself?
That Nico’s cry had struck some place inside her that grief had buried twenty-two days ago.
That when he screamed, her body had reacted before her mind did.
That for one terrible instant she had not seen Matteo Varric’s nine-month-old son.
She had heard her own child.
Elias.
Her beautiful little boy who had supposedly lived for only seventeen minutes after birth.
Nico twisted again.
His fingers opened toward Liana.
Not randomly.
Toward her.
“Ma…”
The sound was broken by another sob.
Matteo went completely still.
One of the guards glanced away as if he had heard something private.
Liana’s knees nearly gave out.
Matteo tightened his hold on the baby.
“He says sounds.”
“I know.”
“That wasn’t a word.”
“I know.”
“Then stop looking at him like that.”
Liana forced herself to lower her arms.
“I’m sorry.”
Nico screamed harder.
The housekeeper hurried from the corridor.
Mrs. Delia Vale was a narrow woman in her early sixties who wore gray dresses and moved with the silent efficiency of someone who had spent decades inside rich people’s homes.
“What happened?”
Matteo did not take his eyes off Liana.
“The new maid thinks she knows what my son needs.”
Delia looked from Matteo to Nico.
Then to Liana.
Something strange passed over the older woman’s face.
Fear.
It vanished almost immediately.
But Liana saw it.
“Miss Graves,” Delia said quietly, “you should return to the laundry room.”
Nico made a choking sound between cries.
Liana couldn’t move.
His small face was wet.
His breath kept catching.
“Has he eaten?”
Matteo’s jaw tightened.
“That is none of your concern.”
“Has he?”
“Liana,” Delia warned.
Matteo answered anyway.
“Four ounces since morning.”
Liana glanced toward the large antique clock near the staircase.
It was almost seven.
“That isn’t enough.”
“I have three pediatric specialists telling me that.”
“And what do they say is wrong?”
Matteo’s silence answered her.
Nothing.
Nobody knew.
Nico had been examined.
Tested.
Observed.
Medicated for reflux.
Checked for infection.
Switched formulas.
Nothing had stopped the screaming.
Liana stepped closer.
Both guards tensed.
She ignored them.
“What happens when someone tries to feed him?”
“He pushes the bottle away.”
“Does he arch his back?”
“Yes.”
“Turn his head to the left?”
Matteo stared at her.
“Yes.”
“And scratch behind his ear?”
This time Matteo said nothing.
Nico lifted one tiny hand.
He scratched behind his left ear.
Liana stopped breathing.
Matteo slowly looked down.
“How did you know?”
Liana’s eyes filled.
Because Elias had done that.
During the three brief hours she had been allowed to hold him before the nurses said his breathing had worsened.
Not seventeen minutes.
That was what the amended death report claimed.
But Liana remembered three hours.
She remembered his fingers.
She remembered his soft weight.
She remembered that whenever he became distressed, he turned his face left and rubbed behind his ear.
She had told herself babies simply did things like that.
Coincidence.
Nico cried again.
Liana whispered, “Please.”
Matteo looked at his son.
Then at the woman standing before him.
“No sudden movements.”
Liana nodded.
“If he gets more upset, you give him back.”
“Yes.”
“If you try to leave this room—”
“I won’t.”
Matteo hesitated.
It might have lasted only two seconds.
To Liana, it felt like an entire lifetime.
Then Matteo Varric handed her the baby.
The change was immediate.
Nico’s scream broke off in the middle.
His body stiffened once.
Then collapsed against her chest.
Silence.
Absolute silence.
Everyone in the foyer stared.
Liana did not.
She could not.
The moment Nico settled against her, a wave of pain so fierce moved through her that she almost cried out.
His head fitted beneath her chin.
His warm cheek pressed against the exact place Elias used to rest during those impossible hours in the hospital.
Nico took one shaky breath.
Then another.
His fingers curled into the red fabric of her uniform.
Liana began rocking without realizing it.
Left.
Right.
Left.
The rhythm she had used beside the hospital window.
Nico sighed.
Matteo’s face lost its color.
Delia gripped the banister.
One guard whispered, “Jesus.”
Matteo shot him a look.
The guard fell silent.
Liana closed her eyes.
“No, mi cielo,” she whispered instinctively.
Nico’s hand relaxed.
Matteo heard.
“What did you call him?”
Liana opened her eyes.
“Nothing.”
“You said something.”
“It’s what I used to call my son.”
The foyer changed again.
Matteo looked at her differently now.
Not as an employee.
Not even as a potential threat.
As a question.
“You had a son?”
Liana nodded.
“When?”
Her throat tightened.
“Twenty-two days ago.”
Delia made a small sound.
Liana looked toward her.
The housekeeper’s face had gone white.
Matteo noticed too.
“When?” he repeated.
Liana swallowed.
“He was born September fourteenth.”
Delia’s hand slipped from the railing.
The brass keys at her waist struck the marble.
Matteo turned.
“Delia?”
“I’m fine.”
“You don’t look fine.”
“I stood up too quickly.”
“You were already standing.”
Delia bent to collect the keys.
Her fingers trembled.
Liana looked down at Nico.
He had stopped crying completely.
He was studying her face.
Not with the unfocused curiosity of a baby meeting someone new.
His gaze seemed almost searching.
Then he lifted one hand.
He touched her chin.
A tiny sound left his mouth.
“Ah…”
Liana’s tears spilled over.
“I’m sorry.”
Matteo stepped closer.
“For what?”
“For this.”
“This?”
She looked at him helplessly.
“I don’t know why he stopped.”
Matteo’s voice dropped.
“Neither do I.”
He reached for Nico.
The baby instantly tightened his grip on Liana.
Matteo froze.
Nico buried his face against her.
“No.”
The word was imperfect.
Barely formed.
But unmistakable.
Nobody moved.
Matteo stared at his child.
Liana whispered, “He’s scared.”
“He has never done this with anyone.”
“Maybe he’s tired.”
“He has had six nannies.”
Liana looked up.
“Six?”
“In nine months.”
“What happened to them?”
“They quit.”
Delia corrected him.
“Four quit.”
Matteo turned.
“And the other two?”
Delia went silent.
Matteo’s eyes narrowed.
“Delia.”
“One was dismissed.”
“And the other?”
The older woman stared at the floor.
“She left unexpectedly.”
“When?”
“Three weeks ago.”
Liana’s arms tightened around Nico.
Three weeks.
Almost exactly when Elias had died.
Matteo noticed the same thing.
“Name.”
Delia hesitated.
“Maribel Santos.”
“Where is she now?”
“I don’t know.”
“You hired her.”
“She came through an agency.”
“Which agency?”
“I’ll get the file.”
Delia moved toward the office corridor.
Matteo’s voice stopped her.
“Now.”
She nodded.
The moment she disappeared, Nico shifted in Liana’s arms.
The collar of his pale blue onesie folded down.
Liana saw the skin behind his left ear.
Her entire body went cold.
There.
Just below the hairline.
A small crescent-shaped birthmark.
Not dark.
Not dramatic.
A faint reddish curve no larger than the edge of a fingernail.
Liana stared at it.
The foyer blurred.
Elias had the same mark.
She had kissed it.
She had traced it with her finger while he slept against her chest.
The nurse had laughed softly and said, “Looks like a little moon.”
Liana’s grip loosened.
Matteo saw her expression.
“What?”
She couldn’t answer.
“Liana.”
Her lips moved.
No sound came.
Matteo took her shoulder.
“What did you see?”
She lifted a trembling finger.
Behind Nico’s ear.
Matteo looked.
“The birthmark?”
Liana’s knees finally gave out.
Matteo caught her elbow before she fell.
Nico began fussing.
Liana stared up at Matteo with tears running unchecked down her face.
“My son had that.”
Matteo released her as if burned.
“What?”
“The exact same mark.”
“You’re grieving.”
“I know.”
“Birthmarks happen.”
“I know.”
“You’re trying to turn coincidence into something else.”
“I know.”
Matteo’s voice grew harsher.
“Then stop.”
“I can’t.”
“Why?”
Liana looked at Nico.
Because the next memory was worse.
Much worse.
“When Elias was born, a nurse told me the mark looked like a little moon.”
Matteo stared.
Liana’s voice broke.
“And his medical chart listed it behind his right ear.”
Matteo said nothing.
“It was wrong,” she continued.
“I argued with them.”
“They said I was confused from medication.”
“I wasn’t.”
“Why does that matter?”
“Because when I asked to see my son after they said he died, they wouldn’t let me.”
Matteo’s face hardened.
“What hospital?”
“Saint Aurelia Medical Center.”
For the first time since Liana had entered the foyer, Matteo Varric looked truly afraid.
Not because of her.
Because he recognized the name.
Liana saw it.
“You know that hospital.”
Matteo did not respond.
She stepped toward him.
“Mr. Varric.”
He looked at Nico.
Then at Delia returning from the corridor carrying a thin black folder.
The housekeeper stopped when she saw his face.
Matteo spoke without looking at her.
“Tell me exactly where Nico was born.”
Delia’s lips parted.
“Matteo—”
“Where?”
The older woman closed her eyes.
When she opened them again, there was defeat in them.
“Saint Aurelia.”
Liana forgot how to breathe.
Matteo slowly turned toward her.
Twenty-two days after burying her child, Liana Graves stood in the marble foyer of the Varric mansion holding a baby born in the same hospital.
A baby who carried the same birthmark.
A baby who calmed at her voice.
A baby who had reached for her before she ever touched him.
And upstairs, somewhere inside the mansion, a clock began striking seven.
May you like
By the seventh chime, Matteo Varric understood one thing.
Nobody was going to sleep that night.
