Chapter 3: The Hospital Question

The ambulance reached St. Matthew’s Children’s Hospital in twelve minutes.

To Sebastian, it felt like twelve years.

He sat beside the stretcher while paramedics worked over his son.

The baby’s skin looked gray beneath the emergency lights.

“Stay with me,” Sebastian whispered.

The infant did not respond.

At the hospital, doctors took the child through a pair of swinging doors.

Sebastian tried to follow.

A nurse stopped him.

“We need room to work.”

“That is my son.”

“And we are trying to save him.”

The doors closed in his face.

Maya stood nearby, still wearing her gray uniform.

There was dried blood on her lip from the slap.

Isabella sat across the waiting room with Thomas beside her.

Neither spoke.

Thirty minutes later, Detective Elena Brooks entered the hospital.

She was a calm woman in her early forties with sharp eyes and no interest in the Vance name.

“Mr. and Mrs. Vance?”

Sebastian stood.

“Who called the police?”

“The emergency room. The preliminary toxicology screen found a controlled sedative in your baby’s system.”

Isabella covered her mouth.

Maya closed her eyes.

Sebastian remained still.

“How much?”

“Enough to suppress his breathing.”

The detective looked at each of them.

“Who prepared the baby’s last bottle?”

Isabella pointed at Maya.

“She did.”

Maya looked at her in disbelief.

“No. You dismissed me from the nursery at seven.”

“You returned later.”

“I came back after he started crying.”

Isabella turned to the detective.

“She has been obsessed with my child from the beginning. He calms for her because she has made him dependent on her.”

“That is a lie,” Maya said.

“Is it?”

Isabella stood.

“You lost a baby, didn’t you?”

Maya’s face drained of color.

Sebastian looked at her.

“What is she talking about?”

Maya’s voice shook.

“My daughter died two years ago.”

Isabella gave the detective a meaningful look.

“She never recovered. She began treating my son as if he belonged to her.”

Maya stared at Isabella.

“You used my grief against me.”

“I am protecting my family.”

“No,” Maya said. “You are protecting yourself.”

Detective Brooks stepped between them.

“That’s enough.”

She turned to Maya.

“Did you prepare the bottle?”

“No.”

“Who did?”

Maya looked at Thomas.

He stiffened.

“At seven fifteen, Mr. Harland brought a bottle upstairs. He said Mrs. Vance had prepared it.”

Thomas spoke calmly.

“That never happened.”

Maya’s eyes filled with anger.

“You handed it to me outside the nursery.”

“Do you have proof?”

Maya reached into her pocket.

“I might.”

She removed her phone.

Three weeks earlier, after noticing that the nursery cameras had stopped working, Maya had placed an old motion-activated phone on a bookshelf.

She had not told anyone.

“I was afraid,” she explained. “The baby kept becoming sick, but every time I asked questions, Mrs. Vance threatened to fire me.”

Sebastian stared at her.

“You recorded my house?”

“I recorded the crib.”

Detective Brooks held out her hand.

“Show me.”

Maya unlocked the phone.

The latest file had been recorded that evening at 7:18 p.m.

The video showed the dim nursery.

Thomas entered carrying a bottle.

He placed it on the table.

Then Isabella walked in.

Thomas said something too quiet to hear.

Isabella picked up the bottle.

She removed a small vial from her purse.

Then she looked directly toward the crib.

The video ended.

Sebastian’s voice was barely audible.

“Play the next file.”

Maya tapped the screen.

Nothing happened.

“The battery died.”

Detective Brooks took the phone.

“We can recover the rest.”

Isabella stepped forward.

“You cannot use an illegal recording.”

The detective looked at her coldly.

“A baby nearly died. Legal arguments can wait.”

Thomas rose from his chair.

“I want an attorney.”

“So do I,” Isabella said.

Sebastian looked at his wife.

He had known Isabella for eight years.

He had watched her lie at charity events, manipulate reporters, and destroy rivals with polite smiles.

But he had never believed she would endanger their child.

“Why?” he asked.

Isabella’s eyes met his.

“You already decided I’m guilty.”

“I watched you put something in his bottle.”

“You watched ten seconds without sound.”

“Then tell me what happened.”

Before she could answer, the pediatrician entered.

Sebastian turned immediately.

“How is he?”

“He’s breathing on his own.”

Sebastian’s shoulders dropped.

Maya began to cry silently.

“But,” the doctor continued, “the toxicology results revealed something else.”

“What?”

The doctor looked at Isabella.

“The baby’s blood type is AB negative.”

Sebastian frowned.

“What does that mean?”

The doctor hesitated.

“Your medical records list you as O positive and Mrs. Vance as A positive.”

Isabella’s face went white.

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Sebastian understood before the doctor finished speaking.

“Biologically,” the doctor said, “you cannot both be this child’s parents.”