The handwriting was rushed and uneven, as if written by someone who had been in a hurry—or afraid.
Do not trust the night staff.
Your baby is scheduled for a “transfer.”
Room 312.
Leave before midnight.
They will say it’s a mistake.
It isn’t.
My heart began pounding so hard I could feel it in my throat.
“Who gave this to you?” I asked quietly.
Lily glanced nervously toward the door.
“A woman in the hallway,” she said. “She grabbed my arm and told me not to let them take the baby.”
My stomach twisted.
Hospitals didn’t “transfer” newborns without explanation.
And this note didn’t sound like a medical instruction.
It sounded like a warning.
I looked at my son sleeping in the bassinet.
Suddenly the room didn’t feel safe anymore.
“Tell me exactly what happened,” I said.
Lily nodded quickly.
“I went to the vending machines near the nurses’ station,” she explained. “But when I came back, two nurses were standing outside your room.”
“That’s normal,” I said automatically, though doubt had already started creeping in.
She shook her head.
“I’ve never seen them before.”
“Hospitals have different shifts,” I replied, trying to stay calm.
“But they were whispering,” Lily insisted.
My fingers tightened around the note.