Ethan slowly turned to Olivia.
Because he had given her that access.
Her chin lifted.
But her hands were shaking.
“Tell me the truth,” he said.
Tears filled her eyes.
But not the kind that come from love.
The boy stepped back toward the door.
“Don’t leave,” Ethan pleaded. “You’re the only one seeing this clearly.”
The boy swallowed.
“If I talk… they’ll hurt me.”
“Who?”
The boy looked at Olivia.
Then at the guards.
Then at Ethan.
“Your wife isn’t the only one who wants your baby gone.”
The room went cold.
Then the boy looked up—at the ceiling vent.
“It’s not just that patch,” he whispered. “It’s everywhere.”
Ethan’s heart dropped.
The air.
The system.
The entire room.
“Call the police,” Ethan ordered. “Lock the gates. Nobody leaves.”
Chaos erupted.
The baby worsened.
They tried to move her—but the hallway was blocked.
Marcus.
His head of security.
Standing there.
Armed.
Calm.
Wrong.
“Hand over the baby,” Marcus said.
Ethan’s blood turned cold.
Everything clicked.
The cameras. The air. The timing.
This wasn’t an accident.
It was a plan.
And Marcus was in control.
When the boy spoke again, it got worse.
“There’s another vent in the lounge,” he warned. “Don’t go there.”
Marcus snapped, “Shut him up.”