Chapter 11: The Baby in the Wrong Bassinet
I barely slept.
At six the following morning, I was back at St. Mary's.
I carried the photograph of my newborn's wristband, the original nursery ledger, and my father's agreement.
Daniel had offered to come with me.
I refused.
Not because I trusted him, but because I needed to hear the truth without another person interpreting it.
At the maternity reception desk, I asked for Dr. Helen Morris.
The receptionist picked up the phone.
A few moments later, a nurse approached.
“Mr. Carter?””
“Yes.””
“Dr. Morris is expecting you.””
She led me through a corridor lined with photographs of smiling newborns.
I stopped briefly beside one.
A little boy wrapped in a blue blanket.
The caption read:
*Every child deserves a safe beginning.*
I almost laughed.
The nurse opened a door.
Dr. Morris sat behind a large desk.
She was in her late fifties, with short silver hair and the same oval necklace I had seen in the old photograph.
“Mr. Carter. Please sit.””
I remained standing.
“Where is my son?””
She folded her hands.
“Which one?””
The question made my blood run cold.
I placed the photograph on her desk.
“This baby. The one whose wristband says Noah Carter.””
She studied it.
Then she looked at me.
“That photograph is incomplete.””
“Then complete it.””
She sighed.
“The newborn identification system experienced a serious failure during your son's birth.””
“Which son?””
She didn't answer.
I leaned forward.
“Ten years ago, three babies were involved. Today, another child has been registered under a questionable identity. How many mistakes are we discussing?””
Dr. Morris slowly removed her glasses.
“Mr. Carter, there were no deliberate mistakes.””
“Then why did my father sign an agreement about transferring a newborn?””
Her expression changed.
She looked at the document.
“Where did you get this?””
“My father.””
“Your father was not authorized to possess that record.””
“He was authorized to protect a child, apparently.””
She pushed the paper away.
“Robert Carter made arrangements he didn't understand.””
I stared at her.
“Tell me what happened.””
She took a breath.
“Ten years ago, your wife delivered a healthy baby boy. Another woman, Claire Reed, delivered a girl. Rebecca Carter delivered a boy shortly afterward.””
“And?””
“During a period of staff shortages, the newborn identification process was compromised.””
“Compromised by whom?””
She looked at me.
“An employee changed the bracelets.””
“Which employee?””
She didn't answer.
I placed the photograph of the wristband on the desk.
“Was my newborn switched?””
Dr. Morris looked down.
“Yes.””
My knees weakened.
“Who was he switched with?””
She opened a drawer and removed a thin folder.
Inside were four birth summaries.
Four.
I stared at them.
“Why are there four?””
Dr. Morris hesitated.
“Because a fourth child was involved.””
I felt my heart pounding.
“Who?””
“A baby girl born to a woman named Laura Bennett.””
I recognized the name.
It was the name printed on the insurance information attached to the original paperwork for our newborn.
I looked up.
“Who is Laura Bennett?””
Dr. Morris lowered her voice.
“She was the woman who gave birth to the child currently registered as your son.””
I stared at her.
“So the baby in our hospital room isn't biologically Nia's?””
She shook her head.
“Not according to the available records.””
I gripped the desk.
“Then where is Nia's biological son?””
Dr. Morris looked toward the door.
“That's complicated.””
I slammed my hand against the desk.
“No more complicated answers!””
She flinched.
“Your biological son was transferred to another family under an emergency placement arrangement.””
“Which family?””
She opened the folder.
Then she turned a page toward me.
A name appeared.
*Thomas and Laura Bennett.*
I stared at it.
“Laura Bennett raised my son?””
“Yes.””
“For ten years?””
Dr. Morris nodded.
I couldn't breathe.
“Where does she live?””
“I cannot disclose that without authorization.””
I leaned forward.
“You've had ten years to disclose it.””
She looked away.
Then I noticed something at the bottom of the page.
A handwritten note.
*Infant released to guardian: R. Carter.*
I pointed to it.
“Why does it say my father received the child?””
Dr. Morris's face tightened.
“Because he did.””
“What?””
“Your father took temporary custody of the newborn for forty-eight hours before the transfer was completed.””
I felt my head spin.
“My father held my biological son?””
“Yes.””
“Did he tell me?””
“No.””
“Why?””
Dr. Morris looked directly at me.
“Because he believed the child would be safer with the Bennett family.””
I stood.
“You're telling me my father gave away his own grandson?””
“He believed he was preventing a worse outcome.””
I stared at her.
“Where is Laura Bennett now?””
Dr. Morris hesitated.
Then she wrote an address on a piece of paper.
“She's still in the state. But before you go, I need you to understand something.””
I took the paper.
“What?””
She looked at me.
“The newborn in your hospital room this morning wasn't the child listed on the original delivery record.””
I froze.
“What are you saying?””
“Your son was given another identification bracelet after delivery.””
“Why?””
She swallowed.
“Because someone requested it.””
“Who?””
She didn't answer.
I stepped toward the door.
“Who requested it?””
Her voice dropped.
“Nia.””
I turned slowly.
“My wife?””
Dr. Morris nodded.
“She came to the hospital several days before the delivery. She asked us to prepare a separate identification file.””
I felt sick.
“Why?””
“She said she was afraid the baby might be taken from her.””
I stared at her.
“By whom?””
Dr. Morris opened another document.
There was a signature at the bottom.
Nia's.
And beneath it was a handwritten instruction.
*Do not release the newborn to Marcus Carter until the biological identity is confirmed.*
I stared at the page.
Then I looked at the photograph of the wristband.
Noah Carter.
The same name my mother had used for the third baby.
I left the office without another word.
Outside, I called Nia.
She answered immediately.
“Marcus?””
“Why did you tell the hospital not to release our newborn to me?””
Silence.
Then she whispered:
“Because I knew something was wrong.””
“What did you know?””
“I knew Daniel wasn't the only person who might be connected to the baby.””
I closed my eyes.
“Who else?””
Nia began crying.
“Marcus, the baby isn't Daniel's.””
“Then whose is he?””
She hesitated.
And then she said something that made me grip the steering wheel.
“He belongs to the woman who has been sending me messages for the last three months.””
May you like
“Who?””
“Laura Bennett.””
