Nico rejected every nanny and screamed whenever his father left him alone, but the moment Liana held him, he became silent—and Matteo soon discovered a secret that made his blood run cold

Matteo’s jaw tightened so hard a muscle twitched in his cheek. He towered over Liana, his broad shoulders blocking the dim light of the nursery lamps.

“My security detail is the best money can buy,” Matteo said, his voice dropping into a dangerous, gravelly register. “Former intelligence operatives. Ex-military. They swept this room twice the night the intruder breached the perimeter, and three more times the following morning. There was nothing under that mattress except high-thread-count Egyptian cotton and organic wool batting.”

Liana didn't flinch. She shifted Nico slightly, adjusting his head against her shoulder. The baby let out a soft, contented sigh, his tiny fingers loosening their grip on her red collar.

“They looked for weapons, tracking devices, or explosives,” Liana said calmly, her eyes fixed on the tablet still glowing in Matteo’s hand. “They didn't look for a mother’s token.”

Matteo stared at her, the confusion in his dark eyes warring with deep-seated suspicion. “A mother’s token? My wife died seven months ago in a car crash on the coastal highway. Her belongings are cataloged and locked in the estate vault. What kind of token are you talking about?”

“The kind you can't buy with billions of dollars, Mr. Varric,” Liana whispered, her voice carrying a haunting weight that seemed to suck the oxygen right out of the room. “Look at the video again. Look at where her fingers lingered.”

Reluctantly, Matteo tapped the screen, unpausing the grainy night-vision footage.

On screen, the hooded figure leaned over the infant crib. The woman’s movements weren't hurried or erratic like a kidnapper’s would be. They were tender, agonizingly slow. In the video, she didn't try to lift the baby. Instead, her gloved hand slid along the wooden slats of the headboard, pressing a small, intricate notch near the carved rabbit emblem.

Matteo blinked, leaning closer to the tablet. In all his dozens of reviews of this exact security file, he had never noticed that micro-movement.

“There,” Liana pointed a finger toward the wooden frame of the crib itself, not just the mattress. “Not under the mattress. Inside the wood. It’s a dual-action latch. Custom-made nursery furniture from Europe often has hidden compartments for birth certificates or heirloom jewelry. But someone used it for something else.”

Matteo didn't wait for her to finish. He turned sharply on his heel, strode across the plush nursery rug, and dropped to his knees beside the massive mahogany crib.

His large, calloused hands felt along the carved wooden rabbit emblem. He pressed his thumb against the eye of the rabbit. With a soft, mechanical click, a hidden panel on the side of the headboard popped open.

Liana watched from across the room, holding Nico securely.

Matteo reached inside the dark cavity. His fingers brushed against something fabric. When he pulled his hand out, he was holding a small, silver-woven silk sachet, tied tightly with a red ribbon, and a folded piece of heavy parchment paper.

The billionaire’s breath hitched. He unfolded the parchment with trembling fingers, his eyes scanning the handwritten words. As he read, the color drained completely from his face, leaving him looking as pale as a ghost.

“No,” Matteo muttered, shaking his head. “That’s… that’s impossible.”

“What does it say?” Liana asked softly.

Matteo stood up slowly, clutching the paper as if it were burning his skin. He looked at Liana with eyes wide with horror, betrayal, and a shattered reality.

“It’s a birth certificate,” Matteo whispered, his voice cracking. “Dated twenty-two days ago. Bearing my signature… and the signature of a woman who is supposed to be dead.”

Liana’s heart skipped a beat. Twenty-two days ago. The exact day she had buried her own child under the gray skies.