Embarrassing.

“This isn’t about you,” I said quietly.

He exhaled sharply. “If this gets out, people will think—”

“Think what?” I cut in. “That you accused me of cheating and triggered an investigation that exposed a baby swap?”

Silence.

Then, too quickly: “Don’t talk to anyone without me.”

That was when my fear found a new focus.

Ryan wasn’t worried about the babies.

He was worried about the narrative.

By afternoon, the hospital issued a statement blaming a “procedural deviation during a staffing change.” The language was clean and hollow—like describing a typo instead of a catastrophe.

Alvarez wasn’t convinced.

He returned with a tablet. “Your husband signed in at 9:40 p.m. Did he leave the room?”

“Yes,” I said, remembering his pacing. “He went to the vending machines. Took a call.”

“Anyone else visit?”

I hesitated. “His mother. Donna. I was half asleep. She said she wanted to see the baby.”

“Did she handle the baby alone?”

I swallowed. “For a minute. Ryan stepped out.”

Alvarez’s jaw tightened. He stepped into the hallway and made a call. When he returned, his tone was sharper.