I ran barefoot down the hallway with my phone clenched in my hand.
The marble floor was freezing beneath my feet.
I didn't feel it.
I could hear Matthew crying through the live audio feed, a thin, frightened sound that seemed to pull me forward faster than my body could move.
I reached the nursery door.
My hand was already on the handle when another voice came through the phone.
Rosa.
She was crying.
“Ms. Valerie doesn't know anything.”
I froze.
“You made her believe her first baby died.”
My fingers went numb.
“And now you're using the second one to finish what you started.”
First baby.
I stared at the nursery door.
I had never had another baby.
At least, that was what I had been told.
The memory came back with sudden, brutal clarity.
The hospital room.
The white ceiling.
The smell of antiseptic.
Spencer beside my bed.
Eleanor crying.
A nurse telling me there had been complications.
I had been heavily sedated.
When I woke, my arms had been empty.
They told me my first baby had not survived.
I had been twenty-four.
Young enough to believe doctors without asking questions.
Young enough to believe Spencer when he told me grief would become easier if I stopped talking about it.
For years, I had carried that loss quietly.
Then Matthew was born.
I had thought becoming a mother again had healed something in me.
Now the hallway seemed to tilt beneath my feet.
I opened the door.
Everyone turned.
Rosa stood near the closet, Matthew against her chest.
Spencer was pale.
Eleanor's hand was still raised from the slap.
The doctor had backed toward the wall.
The silver medical case sat open on the floor.
I looked at my husband.
“What baby?”
Spencer opened his mouth.
Nothing came out.
I turned toward Eleanor.
She looked almost bored.
“Valerie, you are exhausted.”
“Don't.”
My voice surprised me.
It was steady.
“Do not tell me I'm exhausted.”
I pointed toward the medical case.
“What is that?”
“No one was going to hurt Matthew.”
“Then why does he have a donor bracelet?”
Eleanor's face changed.
Only slightly.
But I saw it.
Fear.
It vanished almost immediately.
“That's medical equipment.”
“For what?”
She didn't answer.
I looked at the doctor.
“For what?”
He swallowed.
“I think you should sit down.”
“I'm standing.”
“Mrs. Montgomery—”
“Who are you?”
He hesitated.
“Dr. Adrian Cole.”
“Where do you practice?”
“I work privately.”
“Who hired you?”
Silence.
Spencer stepped forward.
“Valerie, listen to me.”
“No.”
I backed away from him.
“You don't get to tell me to listen after I just watched you come into my baby's room at three in the morning wearing gloves.”
His face tightened.
“You don't understand what you saw.”
“Then explain it.”
He looked toward Eleanor.
She gave him a warning glance.
That told me everything.
They were afraid of saying the wrong thing in front of me.
Rosa spoke.
“Ask him about the first child.”
Eleanor turned.
“Shut up.”
Rosa flinched but didn't lower her eyes.
I looked at her.
“What happened to my first baby?”
Rosa's lips trembled.
“I don't know everything.”
“Then tell me what you know.”
Spencer moved toward her.
“Rosa.”
She stepped back.
“Don't.”
I had never heard that tone from her.
It wasn't fear.
It was resolve.
She looked at me.
“I took this job because I knew who your family was.”
I stared at her.
“What does that mean?”
“My sister worked for your mother-in-law years ago.”
Eleanor's expression hardened.
Rosa continued.
“She disappeared after helping with one of the babies.”
“What babies?”
Rosa looked at Matthew.
“The babies.”
The doctor shut his case.
Spencer said, “This is ridiculous.”
“No,” Rosa replied. “What's ridiculous is that you think nobody notices.”
She pulled a small phone from the pocket of her uniform.
“I started recording because I knew something was wrong.”
She tapped the screen.
A video appeared.
The angle showed the nursery.
Spencer and Eleanor stood beside Matthew's crib.
The recording was several weeks old.
I watched myself walk into the nursery on the video.
Then I heard my own voice.
“Why is he so sleepy?”
Eleanor answered.
“He had a long night.”
The video ended.
Rosa opened another.
This one showed Spencer carrying a small black bag into the basement.
Then Eleanor followed him.
I looked at Rosa.
“What is in the basement?”
She didn't answer immediately.
“That's where I found the first evidence.”
My stomach tightened.
“What evidence?”
“Records.”
“What records?”
“Medical records.”
The doctor stepped toward her.
“You need to stop.”
Rosa turned.
“You should have stopped months ago.”
I looked at the doctor.
“You know about this.”
He said nothing.
I stepped closer.
“You know about my first child.”
His silence was an answer.
Spencer suddenly grabbed my wrist.
I pulled away.
“Don't touch me.”
He released me.
“Valerie, please.”
“Please what?”
“I was trying to protect you.”
“From what?”
He looked at Eleanor.
She shook her head.
That small gesture made me realize something terrifying.
Spencer was not in control.
He was following someone else's plan.
I looked at Eleanor.
“You told him what to do.”
She smiled faintly.
“I told my son how to protect his family.”
“By pretending my baby died?”
Her smile disappeared.
“You were unstable after the delivery.”
“No.”
“You were.”
“I was grieving.”
“You were obsessed.”
I felt the room spin.
“You told everyone I was unstable?”
Eleanor said nothing.
Spencer whispered, “Mom.”
I turned toward him.
“You let her do this?”
He looked ashamed.
That was worse than anger.
I wanted him to deny it.
Instead, he looked away.
Rosa moved toward me.
“Ms. Valerie.”
I looked at her.
“Why did you stay?”
She glanced at Matthew.
“Because I knew they would hurt him if I left.”
“You could have told me.”
“I tried.”
“When?”
“The first week.”
“What did you say?”
“I asked whether you remembered your first pregnancy.”
I remembered.
She had asked me once while folding baby clothes.
I had thought it was an odd question.
I had told her yes.
She had looked at me for a long time.
Then she changed the subject.
“I thought you didn't trust me,” I whispered.
“I didn't know how to convince you.”
She looked down.
“Then I saw what they were doing at night.”
“What?”
“They were taking blood from Matthew.”
I stared at her.
The room seemed to go silent.
“How often?”
“Every few days.”
My eyes went to the medical case.
The syringes.
The vial.
The bracelet.
“Why?”
Rosa shook her head.
“I don't know.”
The doctor finally spoke.
“His blood has a rare compatibility marker.”
I turned toward him.
“With whom?”
He hesitated.
Rosa answered.
“With the child in the basement.”
My heart stopped.
I looked at Spencer.
He closed his eyes.
“There's a boy downstairs?”
No one answered.
I grabbed my phone.
The camera app was still open.
A red alert blinked across the screen.
BASEMENT: MOTION DETECTED.
I opened it.
The image was dark.
A rusty crib stood beneath a bare bulb.
Inside was a small boy.
He looked about five.
Skinny.
Pale.
Awake.
He stared directly into the hidden camera.
Then he whispered one word.
“Mom.”
My knees nearly gave out.
Matthew began crying in Rosa's arms.
The boy on the screen had Matthew's eyes.
Not similar.
The same.
I looked at Spencer.
“Who is that?”
He couldn't answer.
Eleanor could.
Her face had finally lost its calm.
“That,” she said quietly, “is the child you were never supposed to find.”
Click here to continue reading: PART 3: The boy in the basement had my eyes, Matthew’s blood had been taken without my knowledge, and the truth about my first pregnancy was darker than grief
I thought the cameras would expose a careless nanny, but the first recording showed her protecting my baby from people I had trusted without question
Part 2 of 20
