The scream ripped through the Varric estate before sunrise, sharp enough to make three armed guards turn at once and a new maid drop an entire stack of folded linens onto the marble floor. By the time the sound stopped, Matteo Varric would be staring at a woman he had never met and wondering whether the worst mistake of his life had been believing his wife’s death was already solved.

Liana’s stomach tightened.

Children Nico’s age could not explain memories.

But bodies remembered patterns long before words existed.

Voices.

Smells.

Colors.

Touch.

Nico had screamed around unfamiliar medical staff. He had resisted anyone wearing pale clinical clothing. Yet he had reached for Liana instantly.

The uniform mattered.

But why?

Dominic began searching old security images from the maternity floor.

Most had been archived, some overwritten, others mysteriously corrupted.

At 9:03, he found a still image from a corridor camera.

The photograph was grainy.

A nurse stood partially turned away, pushing an infant bassinet through a service corridor at 2:18 a.m. the night Nico was born.

Her uniform was red.

Her face was mostly hidden.

But Liana stood so quickly that Nico startled in her arms.

Matteo moved toward her.

“What?”

Liana pointed.

“That woman.”

Dominic enlarged the frame.

“You know her?”

Liana’s lips parted.

“I think so.”

Matteo’s voice sharpened. “From where?”

Liana struggled to place the face.

Hospital memories came in fragments.

Bright ceiling lights.

Plastic chairs.

Coffee gone cold.

A woman leaning over a crib.

Then it returned.

“The night my son got worse.”

She pointed at the image.

“That nurse came into his room.”

Dominic searched the roster.

There was no nurse matching the photograph scheduled that night.

He searched again.

Nothing.

Matteo stared at the screen.

“Name?”

Dominic shook his head.

“Unknown.”

Matteo looked at the timestamp.