Chapter 3 - The Ghost in the Medical Records
The massive iron-reinforced doors of Matteo’s private study closed with a heavy, final click, shutting out the rest of the mansion. The room smelled of old leather, bourbon, and the faint, crisp scent of cedar from the roaring fireplace.
Nico was still fast asleep, resting in a makeshift bassinet fashioned from a cushioned armchair near the hearth. Liana sat on the edge of the leather sofa, her hands tightly folded in her lap, watching Matteo pace across the Persian rug.
For ten minutes, the syndicate boss hadn't spoken a single word. He had poured himself a finger of neat scotch, downed it in one swallow, and resumed his pacing. Every stride was calculated, heavy, and fueled by a volatile mix of fury and disbelief.
“Marcus,” Matteo finally barked into the intercom on his desk.
The door opened instantly, and the head of security stepped inside, bowing his head slightly. “Boss?”
“Pull the birth records for Nico Varric from Chicago Memorial Hospital nine months ago. Every document. Every doctor’s note. Every nurse’s shift log. And I want the complete personnel file of Dr. Alistair Vance on my desk in twenty minutes.”
Marcus blinked, surprised by the urgency. “Dr. Vance? Boss, Vance retired to Zurich six months ago. He was one of our most trusted medical liaisons.”
“I don't care if he retired to the moon,” Matteo snapped, his gray eyes flashing with dangerous intensity. “Find him. And verify every signature on my son’s birth certificate. I want to know every person who entered that delivery room.”
“Right away, Mr. Varric.” Marcus cast a quick, curious glance toward Liana before turning on his heel and exiting the room.
When the door clicked shut again, Matteo turned slowly to face Liana. The aggressive posture was gone, replaced by something much more vulnerable—the look of a father whose entire world had just been tilted off its axis.
“Alistair Vance delivered Nico,” Matteo said quietly, leaning against the edge of his mahogany desk. “He was handpicked by my inner circle to ensure absolute confidentiality. My wife... she passed away due to severe complications shortly after the birth. The grief was... it consumed everything. I never questioned the paperwork. Why would I? Vance was family.”
“Vance was also the attending physician on duty at St. Jude’s hospital on the night my son was born,” Liana said, her voice shaking as the horrifying puzzle pieces began snapping together in her mind. “He was the one who came out to the waiting room and told me... told me my baby didn't make it. He handed me a closed death certificate and told me to leave before the paperwork was even processed.”
Matteo pushed off the desk, walking slowly toward her until he stood right in front of her. His tall frame cast a long shadow over the rug, but his eyes were searching, desperate for a truth that made sense.
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“If what you’re saying is true,” Matteo whispered, “then someone switched two infants on the exact same night in two different hospitals across the city. But why? What possible motive could anyone have to swap the heir of the Varric syndicate with... with a maid’s child?”
“Unless,” Liana said, her breath catching as the darkest possibility dawned on her, “it wasn't a mistake. Unless someone wanted to protect your son... or destroy mine.”
