After Losing My Newborn Son, I Gave Everything I’d Bought Him to a Mother Begging with Her Baby – The Next Morning, My Lawn Was Covered with Dozens of Baby Strollers, Each Holding a Sealed Box

"Where is my son?" I demanded, my hands shaking as I backed up against the humming server rack.

"Your son is currently sleeping peacefully under the care of a certified pediatric nurse," Dr. Vance said calmly, stepping into the room and shutting the door behind him. "He is scheduled to be delivered to a lovely couple in Zurich by tomorrow afternoon. They have been trying to conceive for twelve years, Mrs. Miller. They are going to love him. They are going to provide for him in ways you and your pathetic, embezzling husband never could."

"He is MY child!" I roared.

"He was raw material," Vance corrected coldly, his voice devoid of any human warmth. "Do you have any idea how many children are born into poverty, neglect, or broken homes? I run a service, Kate. I take children from those who cannot protect them and give them to those who can buy the world."

"You sell babies for money, Vance. You're a human trafficker."

"I am a surgeon of destiny," he spat, his calm facade cracking just enough to reveal the monster beneath. "And now, thanks to your little stunt with the strollers, you've forced me to accelerate my departure. Which means I no longer have time to leave witnesses."

He raised the silver revolver, aiming it directly between my eyes.

BANG!

The heavy door behind him slammed open, hitting Vance squarely in the back. He stumbled forward, firing a wild shot into the ceiling that shattered the fluorescent light fixture, plunging the room into red emergency lighting.

Elena tackled Vance to the floor. The two wrestled violently across the narrow space, the gun sliding across the slick deck toward my feet.

"Kate! Get out!" Elena screamed, pinning Vance’s arm against the deck.

I didn't run. I kicked the gun across the floor, sending it flying out the open doorway into the ocean below. Then I grabbed a heavy metal fire extinguisher mounted on the wall and swung it with all the strength left in my body.

The heavy steel cylinder struck Vance across the side of his head. He groaned once and collapsed, unconscious, onto the carpet.

Elena gasped for air, wiping a smear of blood from her lip. She looked up at me, her eyes wide with shock.

"You hit hard for an English teacher," she panted.

"I teach middle schoolers," I said, dropping the fire extinguisher with a loud clang. "Where is Noah?"

Elena scrambled to her feet and grabbed my arm. "Lower deck. Medical bay. Come on!"

We ran down the narrow spiral staircase into the belly of the ship. The red emergency lights cast eerie, flickering shadows against the walls. The hum of the yacht’s engines was growing louder—the automated system was trying to push the boat out to sea.

At the end of the lower hallway stood a reinforced door with a small glass window.

I rushed forward and pressed my face against the glass.

Inside, under the warm glow of heat lamps, sat four acrylic hospital bassinets.