Chapter 4 - The Traitor in the White Coat
Dante stood up from his knee slowly, his eyes locked on Nora’s calm, resolute face.
The room felt entirely devoid of oxygen.
“Explain,” Dante commanded, his voice dropping into a low, terrifying tone.
Nora held the baby closer to her chest, her thumb gently stroking the infant’s cheek.
“When Dr. Harding took the baby to the nurse’s station at 3:42 AM,” Nora revealed, her voice steady and precise, “I heard Angela say the baby was eight pounds. But two minutes later, when she brought him back, she handed me a boy who weighed barely six pounds, with the Valenti mark on his neck.”
Dante’s hands clenched into massive fists at his sides. “Harding swapped the children?”
“Julian Valenti knew I was due tonight,” Nora said, looking toward the heavy door. “He used Vivian to keep you occupied at the Meridian Club so your attention would be completely divided. Meanwhile, Dr. Harding—who has been on Julian’s payroll for three years—was paid to swap our healthy son with Julian’s illegitimate, sick newborn born an hour earlier in the basement ward.”
Dante felt a wave of absolute, terrifying rage roar through his blood.
He turned on his heel, striding toward the door of Room 304, pulling his heavy 9mm handgun from his shoulder holster.
“Dante!” Nora called out sharply.
Dante stopped at the door, his hand on the brass handle, his back rigid as iron.
“If you kill Harding now,” Nora warned coldly, “you will never find out where our real son is.”
Dante took a deep, shuddering breath, forcing his explosive fury back down behind a wall of cold, calculating violence. He turned back, looking at Nora.
“Stay here with the guard,” Dante ordered softly. “Eli will protect you with his life.”
He stepped out into the hallway, shutting the door quietly behind him.
In the corridor, Dr. Harding was standing near the nurse’s station, reviewing a medical file on a tablet, looking remarkably calm.
Dante walked up behind him like a shadow.
Before the doctor could turn around, Dante grabbed him by the back of his neck, slamming his head violently against the marble counter. The tablet flew from Harding’s hands, smashing onto the tile floor.
Dr. Harding let out a choked cry, blood instantly springing from his nose.
“Dante! What are you—”
Dante dragged the older man down the hallway into an empty equipment closet, kicking the door shut behind them and locking it. He threw Harding against a row of steel shelving, pinning him by the throat with his left hand, shoving the cold steel barrel of his gun directly into the doctor’s mouth.
Dr. Harding’s eyes bulged with pure, unadulterated terror. He tried to speak, but the gun choked him.
“You took my son,” Dante whispered, his face inches from the doctor’s sweating skin. “You took my flesh and blood, and you gave me Julian Valenti’s trash.”
Harding’s hands clawed frantically at Dante’s wrist, tears of terror streaming down his cheeks.
Dante pulled the gun out of his mouth two inches, pressing the cold metal against the doctor’s knee cap instead.
“You have three seconds to tell me where my boy is,” Dante growled, his thumb pulling back the hammer of the weapon with a sharp click. “Or I will shoot both of your legs off and let you bleed out on this floor.”
“The... the basement!” Harding gasped, weeping hysterically. “Basement Ward B! Julian’s driver is taking him to the docks in twenty minutes! Please! Julian threatened my daughter!”
Dante didn't waste another second. He brought the heavy butt of his gun down on Harding’s temple, knocking the doctor unconscious onto the cold floor.
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He stepped out of the closet, pulling his radio comms to his lips.
“Eli,” Dante commanded, his voice echoing down the corridor. “Lockdown the entire building. Nobody leaves alive.”
