Chapter 2 - The Woman Who Was Supposed to Be Dead
Damian did not take Noelle to his house.
He took her to St. Catherine's.
She almost refused.
Then she looked through the SUV window at the triple stroller being loaded into the second vehicle and remembered three voices calling her Mama.
She got in.
Damian sat across from her in the rear cabin.
Reyes drove.
Two more SUVs followed.
Noelle had never traveled in anything that expensive.
The seats smelled like leather.
The windows were nearly black.
There was a pistol in the door pocket beside Damian's knee.
She kept staring at it.
"Do you always bring a gun to the hospital?"
Damian looked down.
"I bring a gun to breakfast."
She almost laughed.
Almost.
That frightened her.
For the first ten minutes neither of them spoke.
Emilia, Matteo, and Luca traveled with a nanny in the SUV behind them.
Noelle hated having them out of sight.
She hated that more than she wanted to admit.
Damian seemed to know.
"They're safe."
"You don't know that."
His eyes shifted toward her.
"Neither do you."
"No."
She looked out at the rain.
"Apparently I haven't known anything for fourteen months."
Damian leaned forward.
"Tell me everything you remember."
"I've already told you."
"Tell me again."
"Why?"
"Because details matter."
"To criminals?"
"To fathers."
That silenced her.
Noelle looked back at him.
"Don't use that word like it settles anything."
A muscle moved in his jaw.
"I didn't say it did."
"You raised them."
"Yes."
"You love them."
His answer came without hesitation.
"More than anything breathing."
The sentence hurt.
Because she believed him.
If he had been cruel, this would have been easier.
If he had admitted buying them, she could have hated him.
But the man across from her had spent the evening wiping spit from Matteo's chin and bouncing Emilia with the desperation of a tired parent.
Noelle looked away.
"I checked into St. Catherine's on April sixteenth."
Damian stayed silent.
"Thirty-three weeks."
She rubbed her palms together.
"I had preeclampsia."
Her mouth went dry.
"My blood pressure went through the roof."
She remembered fluorescent lights.
A nurse cutting off her clothes.
Someone shaving her abdomen.
"Their father wasn't there?"
Damian asked.
Noelle's face tightened.
"Caleb died when I was five months pregnant."
"I'm sorry."
She ignored the sympathy.
"Car accident."
Her voice flattened.
"Drunk driver."
Damian said nothing.
"He never knew they were boys and a girl."
She smiled for half a second.
"I wanted it to be a surprise."
The smile died.
"My mother was already in hospice."
"Was she with you?"
"She died eleven days before I delivered."
Damian's gaze hardened.
"So no family."
"No one."
The answer hung there.
No husband.
No mother.
No advocate in the delivery room.
No person demanding to see bodies.
No person asking why three live cries became three death certificates.
Perfect.
Noelle felt sick.
"You think they picked me."
Damian didn't answer quickly enough.
"You do."
"I think someone noticed you were alone."
She closed her eyes.
The truth was uglier because it made sense.
St. Catherine's appeared through the rain.
Twelve stories of pale stone and glass.
Noelle stopped breathing.
Fourteen months vanished.
Her hands began shaking.
Damian noticed.
"We can leave."
She snapped her head toward him.
"No."
"You don't have to walk in there tonight."
"Yes, I do."
"Noelle—"
"If I leave now, I'll never come back."
The SUV stopped beneath the emergency entrance canopy.
Damian exited first.
Noelle followed.
A security guard approached.
Then he recognized Damian.
He stopped.
That was the first moment Noelle understood what real power looked like.
No shouting.
No threat.
Just a man in a uniform making the decision not to ask questions.
Damian walked through the sliding doors.
Noelle stayed beside him.
At the administration desk, a woman with silver glasses looked up.
"Can I help—"
"Marianne Crowe."
Damian's voice was quiet.
The woman swallowed.
"Chief administrator?"
"Now."
"Sir, appointments—"
Damian placed his phone on the counter.
The screen displayed a photograph of Victor Hale.
"Tell her Damian Marchetti wants records from April seventeenth."
The receptionist's face changed.
"I'll call her."
Damian turned.
Noelle was staring down a hallway.
"What?"
She pointed.
"Maternity."
The sign was still there.
BLUE ELEVATORS.
MATERNAL CARE.
LEVEL 6.
Her vision blurred.
Damian stepped into her line of sight.
"You don't have to go upstairs."
"I do."
"Noelle."
"I need to know if the room still smells the same."
He studied her.
Then he nodded.
They took the elevator.
Floor six had been renovated.
New paint.
New chairs.
Different artwork.
But the smell was the same.
Disinfectant.
Warm linen.
Plastic.
Fear.
Noelle's knees weakened.
"Room 612."
Damian looked at her.
"You remember?"
"I remember everything."
They walked.
611.
612.
The door was open.
Empty.
Noelle stood on the threshold.
For several seconds she couldn't enter.
Then she did.
There was a modern bed now.
New monitoring equipment.
A bassinet against the wall.
Noelle touched the bed rail.
"I woke up here."
Her voice trembled.
Damian stayed near the door.
Noelle pointed toward the window.
"There was a nurse standing there."
"What nurse?"
"I don't know."
"Name?"
"She had red hair."
"Age?"
"Maybe fifty."
"Anything else?"
Noelle concentrated.
"Butterfly pin."
Damian took out his phone.
"Reyes."
Reyes appeared in the doorway.
"Find every red-haired nurse working maternity fourteen months ago."
Noelle shook her head.
"That's impossible."
Damian looked at her.
"No."
It wasn't arrogance.
It was promise.
Noelle turned toward the bassinet.
"I asked where they were."
Her voice softened.
"She wouldn't look at me."
Damian's face tightened.
"She said there had been complications."
Noelle swallowed.
"I told her I'd heard three cries."
She could hear herself screaming now.
Where are my babies?
Where are my babies?
"I tried to get out of bed."
She touched her abdomen without thinking.
"My incision opened."
Damian's eyes dropped to her hand.
"They sedated me."
"What medication?"
"I don't know."
"Did you consent?"
"No."
Damian's face went cold.
Footsteps sounded in the hall.
A woman in a navy suit appeared with two hospital security officers.
"Mr. Marchetti."
She sounded breathless.
"I'm Marianne Crowe."
Damian didn't shake her hand.
"This is Noelle Bishop."
Crowe looked at Noelle.
Nothing.
Then confusion.
Then recognition.
The administrator's face changed so dramatically that Noelle felt it like a physical blow.
"You know me."
Crowe recovered.
"No."
"You're lying."
Crowe looked at Damian.
"I don't understand why you're here."
Damian stepped closer.
"Her chart lists her as dead."
Crowe blinked.
"That's impossible."
"So fix the impossible."
"Medical records are protected."
Damian smiled.
Noelle finally understood why people feared his smile.
"Noelle can request her own records."
Crowe looked at Noelle.
"Of course."
"Now."
"It's nearly ten at night."
Damian's smile disappeared.
"So?"
Crowe drew herself up.
"We have procedures."
Noelle stepped forward.
"My children were born here."
Crowe's eyes flickered.
"They died here."
Another flicker.
Noelle noticed.
"So I was told."
Crowe's mouth tightened.
"I can't discuss—"
"Do you remember me?"
"No."
Noelle walked closer.
"You looked at me before you looked at him."
Crowe stayed silent.
"You recognized me."
"I recognize the name."
"Why?"
Crowe didn't answer.
Damian turned to Reyes.
"Close the floor."
Crowe stiffened.
"You cannot close a hospital floor."
"I'm not closing the hospital."
Damian's voice remained calm.
"I'm telling my people to stand at the elevators until you stop lying."
The security officers looked at each other.
Crowe's composure began cracking.
"This is intimidation."
"No."
Damian leaned closer.
"Intimidation is when I haven't asked politely first."
Noelle touched his arm.
He stopped.
She didn't know why she'd done it.
Maybe because she didn't want fear contaminating whatever truth she got next.
"No threats."
Damian looked at her.
"This is my life."
Her voice shook, but she held Crowe's gaze.
"I want the truth given to me because it's mine."
Damian stared at her for another second.
Then stepped back.
Crowe exhaled.
"Come to my office."
Ten minutes later, Noelle sat across from the administrator while a records clerk logged into the hospital system.
Damian stood behind her.
Reyes stayed near the door.
The clerk typed.
Then frowned.
"That's strange."
Noelle gripped the chair.
"What?"
The clerk typed again.
"Patient file exists."
Crowe leaned over.
"And?"
"Restricted."
"By whom?"
The clerk clicked.
Her face went blank.
"I've never seen this permission level."
Damian leaned forward.
"What does it say?"
The clerk swallowed.
"Internal legal hold."
"Whose authorization?"
She clicked again.
Then stopped.
"Dr. Evelyn Crane."
Noelle's stomach dropped.
She knew the name.
"My obstetrician."
Crowe looked at her.
"You were Dr. Crane's patient?"
"For six months."
The clerk whispered.
"There's another authorization."
Damian's voice hardened.
"Read it."
"Victor Hale."
Silence.
Noelle turned slowly toward him.
"Your attorney could lock my hospital chart?"
"He shouldn't have been able to."
Reyes's phone buzzed.
He read the message.
His eyes lifted.
"We found Hale."
Damian turned.
"Where?"
"Security camera at Lakefront Air."
Noelle's pulse jumped.
"Private airport?"
Reyes nodded.
"He boarded a charter twenty minutes ago."
Damian swore under his breath.
"Destination?"
"Flight plan says Toronto."
"Get customs involved."
Reyes hesitated.
"There's more."
"What?"
"He wasn't alone."
Reyes held up the phone.
A grainy image filled the screen.
Victor Hale wore a dark coat.
Beside him was a woman in a pale raincoat.
Older.
Thin.
Red hair.
Noelle stood so fast the chair hit the wall.
Her hands turned cold.
"The nurse."
Damian looked at the image.
"You're sure?"
Noelle moved closer.
Even blurred by airport security footage, she could see it.
Red hair.
Small frame.
And pinned to the woman's coat near the collar—
a silver butterfly.
"That's her."
Her voice broke.
"That's the woman who told me my babies were dead."
Reyes received another message.
He read it.
His face changed again.
"Boss."
"What now?"
"Flight never took off."
Damian frowned.
"Why?"
"Aircraft is still on the runway."
A terrible silence settled over the office.
Reyes looked directly at him.
"Pilot's dead."
Noelle stopped breathing.
"And Hale?"
"Missing."
"The nurse?"
"Missing."
Damian's gaze shifted to the locked hospital file on the monitor.
The records clerk whispered.
"Someone just accessed Ms. Bishop's chart."
Crowe spun toward the screen.
"What?"
"Remote login."
"From where?"
The clerk typed frantically.
Then her hands froze over the keyboard.
Damian stepped closer.
"Where?"
May you like
She looked at Noelle.
"Inside this building."
