“I’m saying we don’t know yet,” Dr. Patel said. “And we can’t afford to wait to find out.”
She slid her phone toward me. “I can stay with you while you call. And you need to remain here with the baby until security arrives. Please don’t leave the building.”
My fingers trembled as I dialed. While the phone rang, a horrible truth settled in: Ryan’s demand for a DNA test wasn’t the only betrayal in my life—but it had cracked open a door to something far larger and far more terrifying.
When the dispatcher answered, my voice sounded distant, unfamiliar.
“Hi,” I said, swallowing hard. “I’m at Saint Mary’s Hospital. My doctor told me to call. They believe… they believe my baby may have been switched.”
Behind the desk, Dr. Patel was already typing rapidly, her movements precise and controlled.
Then I saw them—two uniformed officers stepping off the elevator at the end of the hallway—walking toward me like I’d been pulled into a nightmare I never agreed to witness.