Chapter 1

In my previous life, the day after my son was born, someone stole him.

My wife lost her mind. She spent six months searching for him before finally jumping off our balcony.

Right after that, I drank myself to death on the streets.

This time around, I trusted no one.

When the head nurse said she needed to take my baby for a checkup, I rose from my chair and stepped in front of the crib, blocking her way. "What checkup? Which department? Where is the paperwork? Has the attending physician signed off on it?"

She froze, caught off guard.

"It's a routine hearing screening," she explained.

"If it's a routine screening, why are you personally taking my baby? I don't trust anyone. Bring me the paperwork. I'll carry my son and go with you. Otherwise, the answer is no."

She stood there, frozen in place.

Chapter 1

The day my son was born, I held that tiny, wrinkled little bundle in my arms, my hands trembling.

Whitney Shaw lay on the delivery bed. Her lips were pale as she smiled at me.

"That 12-story commercial building in Cascade City? Put it all in the kid's name."

I lowered my head and kissed her forehead.

"And the profits from that piece of land we bought last year? Those shares belong to you too. Everything I earn is for you and our son."

Whitney gave me a look. "Will you stop already?"

"Nope. I'm happy."

The next day, our son was gone.

Whitney lost her mind. She spent six months searching for him before finally jumping off our balcony.

I drank myself to death on the streets. Even as I lay dying, I could still hear my son's first cry.

In this life, all I wanted was for my wife and son to be safe and happy.

All day, I did not let anyone touch my son. Whenever a nurse came to check his temperature, I stood right beside her, watching every move.

When the head nurse, Sienna Lawson, walked through the door and cheerfully announced that she was taking my baby for a newborn hearing screening, my back broke out in a cold sweat.

"Mr. Collins, your baby is due for his hearing screening. I'll take him to the examination room on the third floor and bring him back in half an hour."

She wore a mask that covered most of her face, leaving only a pair of gentle eyes visible.

The nurse beside her nodded along. "Ms. Lawson is doing the screening herself. She has plenty of experience."

I stood up and stepped in front of the crib.

"What screening? Is there an order form? Has the attending physician signed off on it? Where does it say the head nurse has to personally carry my baby to the examination room?"

Sienna paused.

"Mr. Collins, please don't worry. It's just a routine procedure..."

"I asked if there's an order form," I cut her off.

I pulled my phone out of the bedside drawer and opened the voice recorder.

"Please repeat that. Who sent you here? What screening are you performing? Which examination room are you taking him to? And what is the doctor's name? I want to record everything."

Her eyes curved above her mask, and a faint hint of annoyance flickered across them.

"Mr. Collins, you're being overly cautious. Newborn screenings are all scheduled through the hospital. We've been running this hospital for over a decade, and nothing like this has ever happened."

"I don't care whether anything has happened to anyone else." I picked up my swaddled son. He was sleeping soundly, his little face scrunched up. "I care about my son. Bring me the order form. I will carry him to the examination room myself."

Sienna's smile froze for a moment. "Mr. Collins, don't you trust me?"

"It's not just you." I stared straight into her eyes. "I don't trust anyone."

The room fell silent for several seconds. Sienna took a step back and forced a smile. "All right. Please wait here. I will go get the paperwork."

She turned and walked out.

The moment the door closed, I looked down at my son, then over at my sleeping wife, Whitney.

I still remembered the way she had cried in my previous life, until her eyes were red and swollen.

This time, no one was going to lay a finger on my son.

Chapter 2

I spent the entire day holding my son, never letting him out of my sight. Feeding him, changing his diapers, burping him—I did it all.

When Whitney woke up and saw me sitting on the couch with our baby in my arms, her eyes turned red.

"Theodore, you haven't slept in three days."

"I'm not tired," I said.

She reached out and touched my face. Her fingers were cold. "You look awful. I'm worried you are going to wear yourself out."

"I can handle it." I wrapped my hand around hers, my voice a little hoarse. "As long as you and the baby are here, I can handle anything."

Whitney did not try to argue with me again. She knew me too well. Once I made up my mind, there was no changing it.

That night, I pushed the crib right beside my bed and locked the hospital room door.

The camera was running, and my phone was connected to my fitness band. Any movement or sound would make the band vibrate and wake me up.

At 2:00 am, I finally started losing the battle with sleep. My eyelids grew heavy, and I could barely keep them open.

I did not know how much time had passed before Whitney's scream jolted me awake.

"Theodore!"

I shot upright.

The crib was empty.

Whitney stood beside the bed, her face deathly pale and her lips trembling. She threw off the covers and tried to get out of bed, but her legs gave way before her feet even touched the floor.

I caught her, my fingers shaking. "Don't panic. Lie down first."

It had happened exactly like this in my previous life—the same empty crib, the same crushing despair.

Whitney jumped from the balcony. I died in a roadside drainage ditch.

I stood there, my legs so weak they could barely hold me up.

Whitney sank to the floor and began to sob, her voice muffled against her arms. "I didn't watch him closely enough… It's my fault..."

I crouched down and took her hand. "Look at me."

She kept her head down.

"Whitney, look at me."

She suddenly raised her head, her face streaked with tears.

"Call the police."

"Okay."

I pulled out my phone. First, I called the hospital administration and had them lock down the building. Then, I called the police.

Whitney sat on the bed with her knees pulled to her chest, her face buried in her arms.

The hospital room door was still open, and more and more people began gathering in the hallway. Nurses, doctors, and family members from other rooms. Someone poked their head inside. The moment they saw the empty crib, they sucked in a sharp breath.

"The baby is really gone?"

"Poor baby. He's only been alive for a few days."

"What kind of parents let this happen?"

"What good is being rich if you cannot even keep track of your own kid?"

Whitney's shoulders began to shake. She had heard them.

I stood up, walked to the doorway, and pulled the door halfway shut.

Someone was still craning their neck to look inside. A middle-aged woman stood in the hallway with her arms folded, muttering, "How do you lose a baby that big? Are you sure he's even your kid?"

Another person chimed in, "Looking all respectable, are you? What good is that if you can't even keep your own child safe? Useless."

I glanced back at Whitney. She had pulled her knees closer to her chest, burying her face even deeper in her arms. Her shoulders shook with every sob.

It had been the same in my previous life. After our son disappeared, people everywhere had said things like that.

"Can't even keep an eye on your own kid."

"What kind of parents are they?"

"Serves them right."

I pushed the door open and walked into the hallway. The corridor fell silent for a moment.

The middle-aged woman was still talking. "Oh, look who's coming out. What are you planning to do..."

I looked at her. "What did you just say?"

She took a step backward. "What did I say? I was just..."

"Say it again."

She clamped her mouth shut.

A man standing nearby jumped in. "She was just showing concern. What's with that attitude..."

I turned to him. "My son is missing. What exactly are you concerned about?"

He opened his mouth, then closed it again, unable to find a single word.

Chapter 3

A police officer named Ron Carter pushed his way into the hallway with several other officers and strung up police tape.

"Mr. Collins, we're here."

I nodded.

"The security footage."

The security guard pulled it up. At 4:13 am, the screen filled with static for several seconds. The interference lasted more than ten seconds.

"The baby never left the building," Ron said.

"Search it."

His officers immediately got to work. They searched the patient rooms, storage rooms, food preparation area, operating rooms, bathrooms, and every other room they could think of, one after another.

The people gathered in the hallway still had not left. Some of them whispered among themselves.

"The cameras are broken. They probably won't find the baby."

"A baby that young? Whoever took him must have gotten far by now."

"Those parents sure were careless."

Whitney could hear every word, even through the closed door. She had stopped crying out loud. Now she was frighteningly quiet.

I stood in the hallway and waited. One of Ron's officers came running over, only to shake his head. Then another came, and another, but they all gave me the same answer.

Someone in the hallway let out a mocking laugh. "See? What did I tell you? They're not going to find him."

I turned toward the voice. The person quickly ducked back into the crowd.

Ron came over and lowered his voice.

"Mr. Collins, we've searched every room, but we didn't find your baby. The cameras didn't capture anyone taking the baby out."

"Then my son is still in this building. He couldn't have just vanished into thin air."

It had been the same in my previous life. The security footage had been filled with static, the nurses had claimed they knew nothing, and my son had disappeared without a trace.

Whitney had gone three days without eating. She had become so thin she looked like skin stretched over bones. Later, she told me that if we could not find our son, she would not be able to go on living.

I leaned against the wall, sweat trickling down my neck. My thoughts were a tangled mess, and my legs felt like they might give out at any moment.

Ron and his officers continued searching room after room. Every time they returned, they shook their heads.

I clenched my fists until my fingernails dug into my palms.

Then, I saw Sienna.

She stood behind the nurses' station, her white uniform perfectly neat. She had a cup of water in her hand. Like everyone else, she was watching what was happening. Her face was expressionless, and she stood there quietly.

Suddenly, I remembered yesterday, when she had offered to take my son for his hearing screening.

I had stopped her.

I had asked a few questions about the procedure, and she had left. She had not come back after that.

However, why had she been the first person to offer to take my son? With so many people around, why was the head nurse the only one who had personally come to our room?

"Sienna."

I heard myself call her name.

She looked up, and our eyes met.

I walked toward her.

The nurses' station was only a few steps from the hospital room, but I walked slowly. She took half a step backward.

"Mr. Collins..."

"Where's my son?"

"What?"

"Where's my son?"

I grabbed the collar of her white coat and yanked her toward me. The cup fell from her hand and shattered on the floor. "Give me my son back."

"Mr. Collins! What are you doing?"

Her face went white as she struggled to pull away. Two nurses rushed over to drag me back.

"Mr. Collins, let go!"

"You can't just attack someone like that!"

I did not release her. "Yesterday, you wanted to take my son for a screening."

"I... I was just doing my job..."

"I questioned you, and you left. You never came back."

"Because you wouldn't let me take him..."

"The moment you left, my son disappeared."

Her hands clutched my wrist, her fingernails digging into my skin. "I didn't! I didn't do anything!"

The police rushed over. Ron grabbed my arm from behind and pulled me backward. "Mr. Collins, let go!"

He managed to drag me two steps away.

Sienna leaned against the nurses' station, the collar of her white coat crumpled. She was breathing hard, her eyes red. "I didn't do anything..."

Her voice began to tremble. "I'm just an ordinary nurse. I came to ask about the screening yesterday, and when you refused to let me take him, I left… What does the baby's disappearance have to do with me?"

A nurse beside her patted her back.

"Ms. Lawson was in the nurses' lounge the entire day yesterday. We can all vouch for her."

Another nurse spoke up. "Mr. Collins, you can't accuse someone of something they didn't do!"

The people gathered in the hallway started talking again.

"Oh, so you can't find your baby, and now you're taking it out on the nurse?"

"What did she ever do to you?"

"That is how rich people are. The moment something goes wrong, they find someone else to blame."

Chapter 4

Whitney came out of the hospital room. She stood holding on to the doorframe, her face as pale as paper and her eyes swollen from crying. "Theodore."

I turned toward her. She slowly walked over, swaying with every step. "Don't do this."

"Whitney..."

"Theodore, you need to calm down."

Behind the nurses' station, Sienna clutched her chest as tears rolled down her face.

"Mr. Collins, I know you're worried, but you can't treat me like this… I've only been working at this hospital for six months. I'm just an employee. How could I possibly dare to steal a baby?"

Her shoulders shook as she cried.

The hallway fell silent for a few seconds. Then, someone began recording on their phone.

"A rich man is bullying a young nurse in public."

"He lost his baby and started cursing at innocent people."

"It's disgusting."

Whitney suddenly tightened her grip on my arm. Her whole body swayed, and her knees began to buckle.

I reached out and caught her. She collapsed against my chest, burying her face in it.

"Theodore… Let's go back to the room."

I carried her back inside, but the voices behind us continued.

"What kind of person does that?"

"He can't even keep track of his own kid, yet he blames the nurse."

"If I were his wife, I'd not be able to stand it either."

Whitney shuddered in my arms. I held her tighter, feeling her shoulders tremble. She made no sound.

Even with the door between us, the voices from the hallway kept seeping into the room.

I held her hand, but she did not squeeze mine back.

"Whitney."

She did not answer.

"Trust me."

Her shoulders trembled.

"I will find him. I promise."

The police searched three entire floors without finding a single trace of our son. The technical team was working on the security footage, saying they needed to recover the data from the hard drive.

Whitney had been given a sedative and was barely asleep, tears still clinging to the corners of her eyes.

I crouched alone in the hallway, smoking a cigarette.

The third, fourth, and fifth floors had all been searched, and every place where someone could have hidden a baby had been checked, from the storage rooms and staff lounges to the operating rooms. They had even opened the toilet tanks, but they found nothing.

A three-day-old baby had simply vanished into thin air.

I stared blankly at the cigarette butt on the floor. It was not until sweat ran down my forehead and blurred my vision that I noticed something.

It was hot.

The fifth floor was especially hot.

The VIP patient floor was kept at 72 degrees Fahrenheit by the central air-conditioning system year-round. Today, however, it felt like at least 80 degrees. The air was stuffy enough to make it hard to breathe.

I stood up and walked around the hallway.

Air was coming out of every vent, but the airflow was weak. I could barely feel any cool air.

Last night had not been like this.

When I changed my son's diaper last night, I had actually felt cold enough to pull an extra blanket over Whitney.

Something was wrong.

I hurried to the stairwell and went down to the third floor. The moment I pushed open the door, a blast of cold air hit my face.

The central air-conditioning on the third floor was working normally. The temperature was several degrees lower.

The fourth floor was the same, cool and comfortable.

Only the fifth floor was hot enough to feel like a sauna. I called the engineering department.

"Who's responsible for the air-conditioning on the fifth floor?"

The person on the other end hesitated. "Mr. Collins, that floor is not under our department. The VIP area has a separate system. The equipment department has the key, and Adrian is the one who keeps it."

"Give me Adrian's number."

I called him three times, but he did not answer. The uneasiness in my chest grew heavier with each unanswered call.

I found the equipment department's mechanical room, but the door was locked. I kicked it once, but it did not budge.

I turned to a cleaning lady passing by. "Have you seen Adrian? Is he here today?"

She thought for a moment. "I think he came in early this morning. He was pushing a tool cart toward the east side. I haven't seen him since."

The east side.

The eastern end of the fifth floor had a row of abandoned storage rooms. I had looked over the floor plans when I rented the entire floor. The room at the very end had been shut down long ago because it was too close to the air-conditioning machinery and the noise was unbearable.

It was not assigned to any department, and the hallway cameras could not capture that corner.

That turn was the only blind spot on the entire floor.

I rushed to the storage room door. The padlock was new, a shiny brass lock that looked completely out of place compared with the old ones on the other storage rooms.

I struck it three times, but it did not break. I pulled a fire extinguisher from the fire cabinet and swung it with all my strength. The lock finally flew off, and the door sprang open.

The room was empty. A few boxes of expired gauze sat in the corner, and the dust made me cough. There was nothing else inside.

I stood in the middle of the room, grinding my back teeth together.

Something was wrong.

If there was nothing inside, why had someone replaced the lock? Why hide this room in a corner the cameras could not reach?

I looked up at the ceiling.

The screws on the ventilation grille had fresh marks, as if someone had recently removed and tightened them.

I dragged an old table beneath it and climbed on top. After unscrewing the grille, I pulled it loose. The inside was pitch-black. Air rushed through the duct, carrying the stale, dusty smell of heat.

I pulled out my phone, switched on the flashlight, and stuck my head inside. The duct stretched inward, then turned a few yards ahead.

I thought I heard something, a faint sound almost like a cat meowing, or the weak whimper of a baby who had cried until his voice was nearly gone.

My scalp prickled.

"Son!"

The sound inside the duct stopped for half a second before rising sharply again. Then a heart-wrenching cry tore through the darkness.