Chapter 2 - The Baby Sebastian Lost
The next morning, Sebastian returned at exactly seven-thirty.
I blocked the NICU entrance.
“We need to talk.”
“No.”
“That wasn't a request.”
One of his bodyguards raised an eyebrow.
Sebastian looked at him.
“Marco.”
The guard stepped away.
Sebastian turned back to me.
“Five minutes.”
We entered an empty consultation room.
I closed the door.
“Lucia.”
His expression changed instantly.
“Don't.”
“You’re carrying her hospital bracelet.”
“That's my business.”
“You spent twelve hours holding an abandoned baby while wearing another baby's bracelet. Forgive me for noticing the connection.”
He stared at me.
“You always interrogate volunteers?”
“Only mysterious ones.”
“That sounds exhausting.”
“It is.”
For the first time, I almost saw him smile.
Almost.
Then I said, “Was Lucia premature?”
The smile disappeared.
“Yes.”
“How premature?”
“Thirty-one weeks.”
“Your daughter?”
Silence.
Then Sebastian sat down.
“My sister.”
I hadn't expected that.
“You had a baby sister?”
“I was twenty-two.”
He looked at the floor.
“My mother was forty-one when she became pregnant again. The pregnancy was dangerous.”
“What happened?”
“Lucia was born early.”
His fingers moved unconsciously toward his sleeve.
“My mother developed complications after delivery. She died three days later.”
“I'm sorry.”
“Don't be.”
I frowned.
“Why?”
“Because people have been saying that to me for seventeen years. It changes nothing.”
I understood.
“So Lucia survived?”
“For eleven days.”
My stomach tightened.
Sebastian continued.
“She was in a NICU much like this one.”
“Where was your father?”
“Drinking.”
“And you?”
“Here.”
He looked at me.
“Every day.”
The pieces started connecting.
“You held her.”
“Whenever they allowed me.”
“And the bracelet?”
“After she died, a nurse gave it to me.”
His voice dropped.
“She said Lucia had known my voice.”
I sat opposite him.
“What promise did you make?”
Sebastian didn't answer.
I already knew there had been one.
Finally he said, “On the last night, I told her that if she couldn't stay, I would.”
I swallowed.
“Stay where?”
“For babies whose families couldn't.”
He laughed once, bitterly.
“I was twenty-two. Angry. Stupid. I thought promises could bargain with God.”
“And you've been volunteering ever since?”
“Different hospitals. Different names sometimes.”
“You used aliases?”
“Privacy.”
“Does your family know?”
“No.”
“Your employees?”
“Marco.”
“The bodyguard?”
“He's been with me twenty years.”
I leaned back.
“So the terrifying Sebastian Moretti secretly holds premature babies.”
“Do not phrase it like that.”
“Why?”
“It sounds ridiculous.”
“It sounds human.”
He stared at me.
“That can be more dangerous.”
Before I could respond, someone knocked.
Emily opened the door.
“Claire?”
Her expression worried me.
“What happened?”
“Bed nine.”
Sebastian stood instantly.
We hurried into the NICU.
Baby Boy Miller's monitor was alarming.
A physician and two nurses surrounded the incubator.
Sebastian stopped outside the marked area.
“What happened?”
“His oxygen saturation dropped.”
“Can I—”
“No.”
I pointed toward the waiting area.
“Stay there.”
His jaw clenched.
“Claire.”
“Trust us.”
For the first time since meeting him, Sebastian Moretti looked powerless.
He stepped back.
Twenty minutes later, the baby's numbers stabilized.
I found Sebastian sitting alone.
“He's okay.”
He stood.
“Can I see him?”
“Yes.”
We walked toward bed nine.
Sebastian placed his hand through the incubator opening.
The baby squeezed his finger.
“There you are.”
Then a voice came from behind us.
“Mr. Moretti?”
A woman from hospital administration stood beside a man I recognized from social services.
Her expression was serious.
“We need to discuss Baby Boy Miller.”
Sebastian turned.
“What about him?”
The social worker opened a folder.
“We located the mother.”
Sebastian's shoulders relaxed slightly.
“Good.”
The social worker didn't smile.
“She doesn't want custody.”
Silence.
“She signed surrender paperwork this morning.”
Sebastian looked through the incubator glass.
“What happens now?”
“He'll enter temporary foster placement once medically cleared.”
Sebastian's hand remained beside the baby's.
“Who?”
“We don't know yet.”
“When will you know?”
“Mr. Moretti—”
“When?”
“Possibly several weeks.”
Sebastian stared at the child.
Then he asked the question that changed everything.
“What would I need to do?”
The social worker blinked.
“For what?”
May you like
Sebastian looked directly at him.
“To become his person.”
