Part 2: The Name on the Bracelet
The room fell silent.
I looked at the stranger standing beside my hospital bed, his blue eyes fixed on me with unsettling intensity.
“Where is he?” he repeated.
I looked away.
“I don’t know.”
The answer tasted bitter.
“He left when I told him I was pregnant.”
For a moment, the man said nothing.
Then something flickered across his face. Not pity. Something darker.
Disapproval.
“He abandoned you.”
It wasn’t a question.
I gave a small laugh that sounded more like a sob.
“Apparently.”
One of the men behind him shifted uncomfortably.
The stranger slipped his phone into his jacket pocket.
“My name is Luca Moretti.”
The name hit me instantly.
Even someone living in shelters and working double shifts knew who Luca Moretti was.
Boston whispered his name.
Newspapers never printed it.
Police never confirmed it.
But everyone knew.
The Moretti family owned half the waterfront and controlled enough businesses to keep politicians smiling and reporters silent.
And somehow, the most feared man in Boston was standing in my hospital room because I had mistyped a phone number.
My pulse quickened.
“You can leave now,” I said quietly.
Luca raised an eyebrow.
“Leave?”
“You came because of the text. It was a mistake. Thank you for checking on me, but you don’t owe me anything.”
A strange expression crossed his face.
“No,” he said. “I suppose I don’t.”
The nurse entered before I could answer.
And in her arms was my daughter.
Everything else disappeared.
The room.
The fear.
The pain.
The mafia boss.
All of it vanished.
Because there she was.
Tiny.
Perfect.
Wrapped in a pink blanket.
My daughter.
Tears instantly blurred my vision.
“Oh God…”
The nurse carefully placed the baby in my arms.
The little girl blinked up at me with sleepy gray-blue eyes.
Her tiny fingers curled around mine.
And just like that, I was completely in love.
“Hello, sweetheart,” I whispered.
The baby made a small sound and nestled closer.
I cried harder.
Across the room, Luca said nothing.
But when I finally looked up, I saw him watching her.
Not me.
Her.
His expression had softened in a way that seemed impossible.
“What’s her name?” the nurse asked.
My smile faltered.
I hadn’t decided.
I’d spent months imagining Jake beside me for that conversation.
Now there was only me.
“I don’t know yet.”
The nurse nodded.
“We’ll need it for the bracelet.”
The baby yawned.
Luca stepped closer.
His eyes settled on the tiny infant.
“She looks strong.”
I laughed through tears.
“She’s six minutes old.”
“She survived.”
His voice was quiet.
“Strong enough.”
For some reason, that made me smile.
An hour later, exhaustion finally pulled me under.
When I woke again, evening sunlight spilled through the window.
The nursery bassinet beside my bed was empty.
Panic exploded inside me.
I slammed the call button.
The nurse rushed in.
“Where is my daughter?”
“She’s fine,” the nurse said quickly.
“She was taken for a routine examination.”
I sagged with relief.
Then I noticed something strange.
The nurse looked nervous.
Very nervous.
“What is it?”
She hesitated.
“Miss Harper…”
My stomach dropped.
“What happened?”
“The baby’s bracelet was updated.”
I frowned.
“What does that mean?”
The nurse swallowed.
“The paperwork listed her as Ava Moretti.”
The room froze.
“What?”
The nurse winced.
“Mr. Moretti completed the emergency guarantor forms while you were unconscious.”
My jaw fell open.
“What?”
“He paid all your medical bills.”
I stared.
“ALL of them?”
The nurse nodded.
“Every dollar.”
I felt dizzy.
“But why would he put his last name on her bracelet?”
The nurse looked toward the hallway.
As if afraid he might hear.
“Because he told administration that until the father appeared, no child connected to him would leave this hospital unprotected.”
My heart stopped.
Connected to him?
What did that even mean?
Before I could ask another question, the door opened.
And Luca Moretti walked back into the room.
Holding a teddy bear almost as big as the baby.
