The Mafia Boss Came to the Abandoned Infant’s Crib, but When Everyone Saw the Name Engraved on the Ring, Everyone in the Room Stopped Breathing

That morning, the mafia boss entered the neonatal intensive care unit, while the infant lying in crib number seven cried as if she had been waiting for his arrival.

My name is Elena Murphy, and I had already been working at that hospital for eleven years. I knew the sound of every machine, the warm glow of the incubators, and also which parent was praying silently when the child’s heartbeat wavered on the screen.

But Vincent Moretti did not resemble this department at all.

He was more than two meters tall, wore a dark, expensively tailored suit, and old scars could be seen on both of his hands. Everyone in the city knew who he was. The police called him the most dangerous man, while people who intended to testify against him often denied their own words the next day.

He wore a heavy gold ring on his right hand. Inside it, as I realized later, something was engraved.

But at that moment I noticed only the slight trembling of his fingers.

“Mr. Moretti, a volunteer coordinator was supposed to be waiting for you here,” I said, stepping in front of him.

“He has already explained everything to me,” he replied quietly. “I want to calm the baby.”

“We cannot let just anyone into this unit.”

“I know.”

There was no threat in his voice. It resembled more the exhaustion that had accumulated over years and settled into his bones.

Suddenly such a thin, piercing cry came from crib number seven that the entire room fell silent. The little girl weighed not even two kilograms. Her mother disappeared from the hospital before filling out the papers, and the toxicology result made everything even more complicated. Her father had not called. Neither had her grandparents. Beside her crib there was only a plastic card with the inscription: “Sterling, girl.”

Something broke inside me every time I looked toward her. Beside the other children there were flowers, toys, and quiet happiness. She had only the machine wires.

“We could not calm her this morning,” I told Vincent. “You must be careful.”

“I know how to hold a baby.”

“This is not an ordinary baby. She is very weak.”

Vincent looked at the crib, and his face changed.

“I am not an ordinary man either, nurse.”

I did not like his answer, but he had passed all the volunteer checks. The hospital administration had signed consents on file. Officially, he was simply a man who wanted to hold an infant.

He washed his hands. Drops of water spread over his wrists, and his fingers trembled again. Then he carefully slipped his hand into the incubator.

When his fingers touched the baby’s small blanket, the girl screamed more strongly. The monitors immediately sounded an alarm.

“Step back!” I shouted.

Vincent froze. Sweat appeared on his forehead.

“No,” he whispered. “I have her now.”

He lifted the baby as if he were holding a bird made of glass in his hands. The crying gradually slowed. Only the monotonous sound of the heartbeat remained in the room.

I watched his hands. The thumb of his left hand carefully stroked the baby’s back, while his right hand held the blanket. Just when the girl closed her eyes, Vincent’s ring turned under the light.

One name was engraved inside it.

I involuntarily leaned toward him, and Vincent seemed to realize what I was looking at. His gaze hardened, and with his other hand he pointed toward the door. At that same moment the entrance to the unit opened, and an unfamiliar man dressed in a black coat raised a folder…

The edge of the folder was still in his hand when the door guard blocked his way.

“Only staff may enter here,” he told him.

The stranger looked at Vincent and smiled slightly.

“I am his representative.”

“I did not ask who you are,” I said. “Go outside.”

Vincent still held the baby close to his chest. His face looked as if the appearance of that man had opened an old wound.

“Thomas,” he said. “You should not have come here.”

“You should not have come either, Vincent. But sometimes a person is forced to go where his blood is crying.”

A chill spread over my neck. The baby was breathing quietly against Vincent’s chest. The green light of the machine beside him blinked evenly, as if the alarm from a few minutes earlier had never happened.

“Leave the folder here,” I told Thomas.

“Only Mr. Moretti will open it.”

“Then why did you bring it into the unit?”

Thomas did not answer me. Vincent looked toward him and lowered his voice.

“Wait for me outside.”

“If that document is not read today, it may be too late.”

Vincent’s jaw tightened.

“Outside.”

Thomas left, but remained beyond the door. The heavy sound of his shoes could be heard in the corridor for a long time. And I thought for the first time that Vincent had not come to calm the baby. He had come to find an answer.

“Who is this girl?” I asked.

“I don’t know.”

“You are lying to me.”

He fixed his eyes on me. There was such exhaustion in that look that I wanted to step back, but the baby moved in his hands, and I had no right to give in to my own fear.

“If she is in danger, tell me,” I continued. “Otherwise I must take the baby away from you.”

“The danger comes precisely from the people who know the truth about her.”

“Are you one of them too?”

Vincent looked down at the baby’s blanket.

“I am the man who learned far too late that his family was falling apart before his eyes.”

My heart began beating quickly. The small plastic thermometer hanging on the wall showed the air temperature, but the cold still choked me.

The monitor lit up again. The baby’s heartbeat accelerated. Vincent immediately began to sing quietly. I could not make out the words, although the melody seemed strangely familiar. The baby let go of the blanket, and her index finger touched Vincent’s ring.

Vincent’s breath caught.

“Where did you learn that song?” I asked.

“I used to sing it to my daughter.”

“What was her name?”

He did not answer immediately. Then he removed the ring and held it in his palm.

Now I could clearly see the words carved inside: “Lucia, while you breathe.”

“Lucia Moretti?” I asked.

Vincent raised his head.

His daughter Lucia Moretti had disappeared eighteen months earlier. The newspapers had written that she had died because of drugs, although her body had never been found.

“How do you know that name?” he asked me.

“You told me yourself.”

“I did not tell you that Lucia was my daughter.”

Something inside the folder rustled. Thomas knocked from the other side of the door.

“Vincent, we have no more time.”

“You cannot leave the baby here,” I said.

“That is precisely why I came.”

At that same moment my mobile phone rang on a table in the corridor. The number was hidden. I answered.

“Elena Murphy speaking.”

For several seconds, only breathing could be heard on the other end.

Then a woman’s voice sounded:

“If that girl is still alive, tell Mr. Moretti that her mother left three words for you. And if he knows those words, he will immediately understand whom he should fear…”

“What words?” I asked, but the call ended immediately.

The phone in my hand became a cold stone. Vincent was watching me, while holding the baby more tightly against his chest.

“Tell me,” I demanded. “What did she mean?”

“Lucia had a phrase when she was a child,” he said. “The moon guards the door.”

Thomas entered quickly and locked the door behind him.

“Then they already know that she is here,” he said.

“Who knows?” I asked.

Vincent picked up the folder. His fingers were trembling so much that the clasp slipped twice.

“My former right-hand man, Carlo Bellini,” he said. “Lucia trusted him. And I thought Carlo was only helping me manage my affairs.”

He opened the folder. Inside were a sealed medical document, several photographs, and a small folded letter.

Vincent took out the photograph first. In it, a young woman stood on the bank of a river. Her face was tired, but her eyes looked remarkably like Vincent’s.

“Lucia,” he whispered.

Then he looked at the card placed beside the baby’s crib.

“Her real name is Serafina.”

“How do you know?”

“It is in the letter.”

He opened the sealed document. It said on top: genetic research results. Bringing it here violated hospital rules, but the document had officially been sent from the laboratory.

Thomas handed me the sheet.

“We received the result yesterday. The baby’s genetic profile matches Vincent Moretti’s by ninety-nine point nine percent.”

Vincent lowered his eyes.

“She is my granddaughter.”

Those words seemed to fall into the room and leave shattered glass on the floor. Nurse Mariam covered her mouth with her hand. The young doctor Daniel stared at the monitor, as if trying to find some answer there.

“Was Lucia alive when she gave birth to the baby?” I asked.

“According to the letter, yes. She tried to protect the baby. Carlo told her that if she returned to me, he would kill both of them.”

Vincent unfolded the letter. Lucia’s handwriting was unsteady.

“Father, if Serafina reached you, it means that I could not make it. Carlo changed my dose and told me that he would take the baby away. I did not believe that you would protect me, because I lived all my life in the shadow of your enemies. If you ever find me, know that I wanted to call you.”

Vincent let the letter fall from his hand. His face turned gray.

“Where is Lucia?” I asked.

Thomas did not answer.

Daniel found a small memory device behind the folder lying by the window.

“This was not here,” he said.

Thomas picked up the device and connected it to the phone. A recording of a nighttime street appeared on the screen. Lucia was getting out of a car, holding an infant in her arms. Carlo stood behind her.

Lucia’s voice sounded in the recording:

“If my father did not manage to come here, then take Serafina to him. But if Carlo finds her, tell him that the second copy is already with the police.”

On the screen Carlo turned toward the camera. His voice sounded clearly:

“No one has seen the second copy. Nor will your father live long enough to learn where his granddaughter disappeared.”

Vincent struck the phone with his hand.

“Who made this recording?” I asked.

Thomas looked out the window. Below, a black car stood at the hospital entrance.

“Carlo’s people already know that the baby is here,” he said. “And he is standing behind your door now…”