Right after delivery, my husband smirked at the newborn: “We need a DNA test to be sure it’s mine.” I held the baby tightly, tears in my eyes, and whispered, “Fine, let’s do it.” Days later, the doctor stared at the lab results with a pale face and said, “Ma’am, call the police right now.”

leaned in, his expression unreadable. “We are treating this as an active kidnapping. But you aren’t the only one caught in this web. We’ve discovered anomalies in the digital footprint logs. Three infants have discrepancies between their biometric scans and their ankle bracelet timestamps.”

My head snapped up. “Three?”

“Which means there is at least continue reading …