I had booked a quiet hotel room, expecting only sleep, when just after midnight I was woken by frantic baby cries from the room next door. No one answered the door, so a hotel employee unlocked it—and inside was a lone infant in a crib. No belongings, no guest record. The moment I held him, he stopped crying, as if he had been waiting for me.
The police could find no explanation. The baby—healthy, clean, and unnamed—was placed into care. I couldn’t stay away. I visited him daily, calling him Sam. When I inquired about adoption, the social worker told me simply, “He already chose you.”
Then a woman appeared, claiming Sam was her son—but something felt off. She showed no affection, and Sam recoiled. Investigations soon revealed the truth: Sam had been born in a war zone, rescued by a nurse, moved through chaos, and nearly trafficked. The woman was lying—and she was arrested.