Amber stared at me for a long moment, her face frozen in that mock-shock look before she let out a dramatic sigh, shaking her head in disbelief. "Right. Looks like we've got ourselves a research project." She gave me a wry smile, her eyes softening. I knew she was trying to lighten the mood, even though we were about to dive into something much heavier.

When we got back to her place, Richard made us drinks—coffee for Amber, hot chocolate for me. I wanted to tell him about the break-in, but Amber and I had agreed not to. He'd only worry, and if he brought it up with Mum... I couldn't risk that.

We sat at the breakfast bar in silence, laptops in front of us, a packet of biscuits open between us. The only sounds were the tapping of keys and the occasional crunch of a digestive. The air felt heavier than usual, like we were both waiting for something awful to emerge from the shadows.

"You should be wearing your glasses," I said absently, noticing Amber squinting at her screen. She shot me a dramatic, wide-eyed look, as though the suggestion had mortally offended her. Then she wagged her finger at me, mock-stern.

Before she could respond, her expression changed. The playfulness drained from her face as she leaned closer to her laptop, her eyes scanning rapidly.

"What is it?" I asked, my heart racing before I even knew why.

Amber didn't answer immediately. Her focus stayed fixed on the screen. "Sam..." Her voice was low, hesitant. "I think I've found something."

I jumped off my stool and rushed to her side. She tilted the laptop toward me, and I stared at the screen. An old news article from 1997 filled the display:

For Missing Baby's Family, Waiting Is Their Only Hope

Two days ago, a baby was stolen from the maternity ward at All Saints Hospital in Moulding Springs. The baby, Casey Malone, was just nine hours old. Witnesses reported seeing a woman dressed as a nurse near the infants around 2am. At 5am, hospital staff realised the baby was missing and informed the parents.

The words blurred in front of me. My throat tightened, a cold wave of dread washing over me. I blinked, trying to focus, but the name—Casey Malone—was all I could see. My mind was fighting itself, trying to reject the connections forming there. But they were impossible to ignore.

Amber's voice cut through my haze. "Sam? You alright?"

I took a shaky breath, stepping back from the screen. "Why... why would a missing baby's name be carved into my door?"

Amber didn't answer immediately. Her face twisted in thought, her usual grin replaced by something more serious. Yet, the glint in her eyes remained—a spark of determination that unnerved me as much as it reassured me. Whatever she was about to say, I knew it wouldn't make me feel any better.

"Let's break it down," she said finally, her tone lighter but her expression firm. "Open up a notepad. We need to look at this logically."

I nodded, my hands trembling as I opened a blank document on my laptop.

"One: Casey Malone was abducted from All Saints Hospital in Moulding Springs. Two: A woman dressed as a nurse was the last person seen with her."

As I typed, memories of half-conversations with Mum surfaced in my mind. The way she always dodged questions about my birth. The subtle falter in her voice whenever I pressed her for details.

I shook the thoughts away, refusing to let them settle. It couldn't be. Could it?

"Where's Moulding Springs?" Amber asked, breaking through my spiraling thoughts.

"About 26 miles away," I said after a quick search.

Amber frowned, her face scrunching up as though she were piecing together an impossible puzzle. "So, it's close. What else?"

"There were eight other cases," I said quietly, my voice barely audible. "Between 1998 and 1999. Different hospitals."

Amber's fingers stilled over the keyboard. "Eight? And all the babies went missing the same way?"

"Yeah," I whispered. "Always a woman. Sometimes dressed as a nurse, sometimes not. But it was always a woman."

Amber looked at me, her face pale. "What about the parents?"

"Not much about them," I admitted, swallowing hard. "Casey Malone's case got the most attention because her dad, Roy Malone, is... well, kind of a big deal. Owns a casino. At first, they thought it was a ransom thing, but no one ever asked for money."

Amber stared at the screen, her lips pressing into a thin line before she finally spoke again. Her voice was quieter now. "You were born in 1998, right?"

Her question caught me off guard. My breath hitched. "Yeah," I said slowly, trying to follow her train of thought.

Amber hesitated, biting her lip as though she were weighing whether to say her next words. When she finally did, her voice was careful but tinged with unease. "What if there's a connection?"

My chest tightened. The pieces were there, and I didn't want to put them together. The room seemed smaller, the air thicker, as if something was closing in around me.

Amber leaned forward, her voice growing more urgent, though her eyes still held that familiar mischievous glint. "Sam, what if this... Casey Malone... What if she's connected to you?"

I shook my head, my voice trembling. "No. No, that's—"

"Think about it," Amber cut me off, her words rushing out. "You were born in 1998. Your mum's a nurse. And this name, Casey Malone, just happens to show up, carved into your door? There's too much here to ignore." Her eyebrows arched as she looked at me, daring me to argue.

The weight of her words pressed down on me like a physical force. I had thought it too, hadn't I? Somewhere, in the darkest corner of my mind, I had felt it—a creeping suspicion I didn't want to face.

"I don't know," I whispered, my voice barely audible. "I don't know."

Amber reached across the table, placing her hand over mine. "We'll figure this out. Together."

But as much as I wanted to believe her, the pit in my stomach told me this wasn't something I wanted to figure out.

Richard had tried to convince me to let him give me a lift home, but I needed the air. In the end, we agreed he'd drop me at the bottom of the hill.

"I'm sorry, Sam, but with everything going on, I just can't let you walk alone," he said as I stepped out of the car.

Amber and I had finished a bottle of wine earlier. I was slightly buzzed but far from drunk. Still, the alcohol had done nothing to quiet the thoughts swirling in my head.

Was I Casey? Had I been kidnapped as a baby?

The idea was absurd, and yet it clung to me. The more I tried to shake it off, the more it gnawed at me. What if it was true? Each step up the hill seemed to pull me deeper into doubt. The possibility loomed larger with every breath, like a shadow creeping over everything I thought I knew.

And Mum—what would that mean about her? The questions spiraled faster with every step. If what Amber was hinting at was true, then Mum wasn't just keeping secrets. She'd be complicit. My chest tightened at the thought. How could I reconcile the woman who raised me, who bandaged my knees and read me bedtime stories, with someone capable of stealing a child? Of stealing me?

I shook my head, as if I could physically dislodge the thought. No. Mum wasn't like that. She couldn't be.

Could she?

I caught a glimpse of my reflection in my phone's camera as I trudged along. I'd never thought I looked much like Mum, but I'd always chalked it up to my dad's stronger genes. Maybe that was why. But now, every stray comment about my appearance, every whispered doubt about who I was, came flooding back.

Amber's words circled in my head, louder than the others. Her curiosity, her way of jumping straight to the most dramatic possibilities—was that what had planted these thoughts in me? Or was she onto something I'd been too scared to face? I couldn't tell. She made it sound so logical, so undeniable.

But Amber wasn't the one standing here, knees weak, breath shallow, wondering if her whole life was a lie.

What if everything I've known is a lie?