Chapter 2 - The Bracelet Under His Watch
The message stayed on Sebastian Moretti's phone screen for only three seconds.
But those three seconds changed everything.
"She knows about him."
I watched his face carefully.
Not because I wanted to invade his privacy.
Because I had never seen fear on the face of a man like Sebastian Moretti.
Anger.
Yes.
Disappointment.
Maybe.
But fear?
Never.
His fingers tightened around the phone.
The baby was still sleeping against his chest, unaware that something had just shifted in the room.
"Mr. Moretti..."
He looked at me.
For a moment, I thought he might tell me the truth.
Instead, he locked the phone and placed it face down.
"Who sent that?"
His eyes moved toward the empty hallway.
Not toward me.
Not toward the nurses.
Toward the possibility that someone was watching.
"That doesn't matter."
I frowned.
"Someone just threatened you."
"No."
His voice was quiet.
"Someone just reminded me."
That answer made my skin crawl.
I had spent thirteen years working in hospitals.
I had learned how to read people.
Parents who were scared.
Families who were grieving.
People who were trying to hide bad news.
Sebastian wasn't hiding fear.
He was hiding a memory.
And whatever that memory was, it had started with the bracelet beneath his watch.
I looked at the newborn in his arms.
"Who was the baby?"
The question left my mouth before I could stop it.
Sebastian became completely still.
The room seemed to shrink around us.
"What baby?"
I stared at him.
"The bracelet."
His expression changed.
Only slightly.
But enough.
"You saw it."
It wasn't a question.
I nodded.
"I did."
For several seconds, neither of us spoke.
Then Sebastian looked down at Baby Boy Miller.
His hand gently covered the baby's back.
A protective movement.
A familiar movement.
Like he had done it before.
"Seventeen years ago," he finally said, "there was another baby."
I waited.
But he stopped.
Like saying more would open a door he had spent years keeping locked.
"What happened?"
His jaw tightened.
"She was born too early."
The words were simple.
But the pain behind them wasn't.
"She was smaller than this baby."
He looked at the newborn.
"Much smaller."
I pulled a chair closer.
Not as a nurse.
As a person.
"What was her name?"
Sebastian looked away.
And for the first time, I saw something I never expected from him.
Regret.
"Lucia."
The name hung between us.
"Lucia Moretti?"
He shook his head.
"No."
A pause.
Then:
"Lucia wasn't mine."
I was confused.
"Then why do you have her bracelet?"
His eyes lowered.
"Because I promised her mother I would protect her."
The monitor beside the incubator beeped softly.
A reminder that life continued even when people were trapped in the past.
"What happened to Lucia?"
Sebastian didn't answer immediately.
I thought he wouldn't.
But then he whispered:
"She disappeared."
The word felt heavier than it should have.
"Disappeared?"
"Everyone told me she died."
I looked at him.
"But you don't believe that."
His eyes lifted.
"No."
There was something dangerous in his voice now.
Not anger.
Determination.
"I was told she didn't make it through the night."
He looked at the bracelet beneath his sleeve.
"But someone lied."
A cold feeling moved through me.
Because I understood something.
Sebastian Moretti wasn't here because he liked helping babies.
He wasn't here because he wanted publicity.
He wasn't here because he suddenly became a different man.
He was here because a tiny newborn had reminded him of someone he lost.
Someone he never stopped searching for.
Before I could ask another question, a nurse entered the room.
"Emily?"
I turned.
It was my colleague Sarah.
She looked nervous.
"Can I talk to you for a second?"
I glanced at Sebastian.
He noticed.
"Go."
His voice was calm.
But his eyes followed Sarah.
I stepped into the hallway.
"What happened?"
Sarah lowered her voice.
"Someone called the front desk."
"About what?"
She hesitated.
"About Sebastian."
I looked back toward the NICU.
"Who?"
"They didn't give a name."
"What did they say?"
Sarah swallowed.
"They asked if he was holding Baby Boy Miller."
My stomach tightened.
"Why would anyone ask that?"
Sarah looked uncomfortable.
"Because they said..."
She stopped.
"Say it."
Sarah looked around before speaking.
"They said the baby wasn't abandoned."
A chill went through me.
"What does that mean?"
Sarah shook her head.
"I don't know."
Then she handed me a piece of paper.
"Security found this near the entrance."
I unfolded it.
There was only one sentence written on it.
But it made my hands shake.
LEAVE THE BABY BEFORE HISTORY REPEATS ITSELF.
I stared at the words.
Then I looked back toward the NICU.
Sebastian was still holding the baby.
Still protecting him.
But now I wondered...
Was he protecting the child?
Or was he trying to fix something he failed to protect seventeen years ago?
When I returned inside, Sebastian immediately noticed the paper in my hand.
"You got a message."
I froze.
"How did you know?"
"Because whoever sent it wanted me to see it."
I handed it to him.
He read it.
And something changed.
The calm disappeared.
His entire body became tense.
"Who knows about this baby?"
I asked.
Sebastian folded the paper slowly.
"That's the question."
"You mean you don't know?"
He looked at me.
"I know exactly who knows."
"Then who?"
He looked toward the sleeping newborn.
Then toward the hallway.
"Someone who should have been gone seventeen years ago."
The way he said it made me believe him.
A few minutes later, hospital security arrived.
They checked cameras.
They checked entrances.
They checked every visitor log.
But there was nothing.
No suspicious person.
No strange activity.
No explanation.
Except one thing.
A security officer approached us holding a tablet.
"Mr. Moretti."
Sebastian turned.
"What?"
The officer looked uncomfortable.
"We found something on the camera footage."
He pressed play.
The video showed the hospital entrance from earlier that morning.
Sebastian entering.
The nurses watching.
The hallway.
Everything normal.
Then the officer paused the video.
"There."
A person appeared in the corner of the frame.
Someone wearing a dark coat.
Standing outside the hospital.
Watching.
"Can you identify them?"
The officer zoomed in.
The image became clearer.
Sebastian's face changed.
I had never seen him react that way.
Because he recognized the person.
"Who is that?"
I whispered.
Sebastian didn't answer.
He walked closer to the screen.
The person outside slowly turned toward the camera.
And even through the blurry image...
I could see enough.
Enough to know Sebastian wasn't afraid of an enemy.
He was afraid of a ghost.
"That can't be possible," he whispered.
The officer looked confused.
"Who is it?"
Sebastian reached for the tablet.
His hand was shaking.
Then his phone rang.
The same number as before.
The same unknown caller.
This time, he answered.
Nobody spoke for several seconds.
Then a woman's voice came through.
A voice that made Sebastian lose all color in his face.
"Sebastian..."
He closed his eyes.
The woman continued.
"You promised you would never stop looking for her."
He said nothing.
The woman took a breath.
Then whispered:
"Lucia is alive."
May you like
Sebastian dropped the phone.
And before anyone could react, the NICU door behind us slowly opened.
