Chapter 12 - They Took the Baby
The nursery window was locked.
The front doors were locked.
Security had been doubled.
None of that mattered because Noah had been taken from the pediatric clinic.
His follow-up appointment was scheduled for eight that morning.
A temporary nanny approved by child services had taken him.
Except the woman who arrived at the clinic was not the nanny.
She used forged identification.
Security footage showed Isabella walking through a side exit carrying Noah beneath a blanket.
She had disguised her hair.
Worn glasses.
Changed clothes in a restroom.
By the time anyone noticed, she was thirty minutes ahead.
I drove toward Newark with Ruiz.
Federal agents converged on the airfield.
My hands were locked around the steering wheel.
“He is not biologically mine.”
Ruiz glanced at me.
“That doesn’t mean you don’t care.”
“I have no legal claim if Julian is his father.”
“You were his presumed father at birth.”
“That can be challenged.”
“Later.”
She looked at me.
“Right now he is an infant being transported by two suspects in an active criminal investigation.”
We reached the airfield eleven minutes before scheduled departure.
The plane was still there.
Engines running.
Agents surrounded it.
Julian was arrested on the tarmac.
He did not resist.
Franklin Voss was arrested beside him.
But Isabella was not on the plane.
Neither was Noah.
Julian smiled when he saw me.
“You keep arriving just after she leaves.”
I stepped toward him.
Ruiz caught my arm.
“Where is Noah?”
Julian’s smile widened.
“My son?”
I wanted to break his face.
Instead, I said nothing.
He leaned closer.
“You really grew attached to him.”
“He is six months old.”
“He is mine.”
“Then act like his father and tell us where he is.”
Something flickered in Julian’s eyes.
Not love.
Ownership.
“He’ll be safer without you.”
“Like Maya?”
His expression hardened.
“Your daughter was always the problem.”
There it was.
No denial.
No performance.
Just hatred.
“You abused a nine-year-old because she stood between you and money.”
“I never touched her.”
“You designed it.”
“Isabella handled the domestic details.”
I almost lost control.
Ruiz stepped between us.
Julian laughed.
“You still don’t understand.”
“What?”
“Maya’s trust is not fourteen million dollars.”
Rebecca had called me earlier with questions about the valuation.
I had not yet seen the answer.
“How much?”
Julian smiled.
“Ask what Emily put into it six months before she died.”
Then agents dragged him away.
My phone rang.
Rebecca.
“I found it.”
“What?”
“Maya’s trust.”
“How much?”
“Nathan, the statements you’ve been receiving are incomplete.”
My stomach tightened.
“Tell me.”
“Emily transferred founder shares from Lang Biotech into the trust.”
Victoria’s family company.
The shares had been nearly worthless five years earlier.
Now Lang Biotech controlled several major pharmaceutical patents.
Rebecca’s voice lowered.
“Maya’s trust is not worth fourteen million.”
“How much?”
“On paper?”
She paused.
“About two hundred and eighty-six million dollars.”
I understood everything.
Maya had not merely been inconvenient.
She had been the real target from the beginning.
Then Ruiz’s phone rang.
She listened.
Her face changed.
“What?”
She ended the call.
“We found Isabella’s vehicle.”
“Where?”
“Near the river.”
“Noah?”
She shook her head.
“The car is empty.”
On the passenger seat was Noah’s blanket.
And a note.
May you like
Bring Maya if you want the baby back.
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