Chapter 3
The cheerful melody of Jingle Bells echoed through the quiet, tense living room one more time before dying out into an oppressive, heavy silence. No one moved. The blinking red and green lights of the Christmas tree cast erratic shadows across the faces of the terrified family. Marcus remained pinned against the wall, his chest heaving, while Clara clutched the baby in the green reindeer onesie so tightly that the infant began to cry in earnest, a high-pitched, distressed wail that matched the fractured mood of the room.
Arthur gripped his cane tighter, his knuckles white. "Nobody opens that door until we understand what is happening here," he growled, casting a venomous glare toward Elena.
Elena crossed her arms, her burgundy blouse catching the amber glow of the hearth. She didn't look flustered in the slightest. "Suit yourselves," she said smoothly. "But that package on the front porch contains the DNA test results from the private clinic downtown. The ones Marcus paid for in cash last month."
Marcus lurched forward, his face twisting in genuine horror. "You hacked my email? You went through my personal records?"
"I protect my interests, Marcus," Elena replied, her voice dropping an octave, carrying a chilling authority. "And right now, that envelope proves that the baby Clara is holding isn't the child born in St. Jude’s Hospital this morning."
Clara stumbled backward, colliding heavily with the sofa cushions. Grandma Martha caught her arm, steadying her, but Clara’s eyes were wide, unblinking, and locked on Elena.
"What did you just say?" Clara whispered, the words barely audible over the crackling of the fireplace.
"I said, sister dear, that your baby was swapped twelve hours ago," Elena stated plainly, as if reciting a shopping list. "Hospital security is terribly lax during the holiday shift. It was remarkably easy to walk into the nursery with a matching bassinet."
Arthur dropped his cane. It hit the hardwood with a loud, hollow crack that made everyone jump. "You stole a child? Have you completely lost your mind, Elena? That is a federal crime!"
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"I didn't steal a child, Dad," Elena corrected, her tone sharp. "I corrected a cosmic mistake. That baby belongs to a wealthy couple in Chicago who paid top dollar for a clean slate. And the child Clara is holding? Well, let’s just say she’s much closer to home than you think."
Marcus lunged at Elena, his hands outstretched, but before his fingers could graze her burgundy blouse, the heavy front door swung wide open, revealing a towering police officer standing on the porch, snow swirling around his shoulders.
