The marble floors of Elena's birthing center gleamed under the soft afternoon light streaming through floor-to-ceiling windows. I pressed my hand against my rounded belly, feeling the baby's restless movements as I approached the reception desk. Eight months pregnant and finally here to see the luxury suite Elena had reserved for me—the thought filled me with warmth and anticipation.
"Good afternoon, Mrs. Hansen," the young receptionist smiled brightly. "How can I help you today?"
"I'm here to tour my suite," I said, returning her smile. "I'm Amelia Torres-Hansen. My sister Elena reserved the Premier Suite for my delivery next month."
The receptionist's fingers flew across her keyboard, her expression shifting from welcoming to confused. She frowned at her screen, then looked up at me with apologetic eyes.
"I'm so sorry, Mrs. Hansen, but there seems to be some confusion. The Premier Suite is currently occupied. Mrs. Hansen checked in this morning."
My stomach dropped. "I'm sorry, what?"
"Mrs. Hansen—she's already in the suite. She showed her reservation confirmation and everything." The receptionist's voice grew smaller with each word.
The baby kicked sharply against my ribs, as if sensing my sudden distress. I gripped the marble counter, my wedding ring clicking against the stone. "There has to be a mistake. I'm Mrs. Hansen. Amelia Torres-Hansen. My sister owns this place—Elena Torres?"
Recognition flickered in the young woman's eyes. "Oh! Miss Elena's sister! Let me check again." Her fingers danced across the keyboard more frantically. "The reservation is definitely under Mrs. Hansen, but... oh dear. This is very strange."
My hands trembled as I fumbled for my phone. Drew would know what happened. He had to know. Maybe there was some administrative error, some mix-up with the insurance or paperwork. My fingers shook as I dialed his number.
"Hey, beautiful," Drew's voice came through warm and familiar. "How's my gorgeous wife today?"
"Drew, I'm at the birthing center, and there's some kind of problem." I tried to keep my voice steady, but it cracked slightly. "Someone else has checked into our suite. They're saying another Mrs. Hansen is already here."
A pause. Too long. "What? That's impossible. There must be some administrative error."
"That's what I thought, but the receptionist seems certain. She says this woman has all the right paperwork and—"
"Honey, don't stress about this. You know stress isn't good for the baby." His voice carried that soothing tone he used when he wanted to end a conversation quickly. "I'll call the center right now and sort this out. It's probably just a computer glitch or something. You know how these systems can be."
Relief flooded through me. Of course it was just a mistake. "Okay, but Drew—"
"I'm already dialing them on my other line. Go sit down somewhere comfortable and let me handle this. I'll call you back in ten minutes with everything sorted out."
The line went dead. I stared at my phone, feeling slightly dismissed but telling myself Drew was just being protective. He was probably already on the phone with Elena, working out whatever clerical error had caused this confusion.
I turned back to the receptionist, who was watching me with concerned eyes. "My husband is calling to sort this out. Could you tell me more about this other Mrs. Hansen? Maybe if I knew more details..."
The young woman glanced around nervously before leaning closer. "Well, she's very... elegant. Beautiful jewelry, designer clothes. She had all the right documentation, and she seemed to know exactly where everything was."
A chill ran down my spine. "What kind of jewelry?"
"Oh, the most gorgeous diamond set—necklace and bracelet. Absolutely stunning. She mentioned they were a special gift for the birth."
My breath caught in my throat. Diamond necklace and bracelet. The exact set Elena had given me just last week, the family heirloom she'd saved specifically for this moment. The pieces were still sitting in their velvet box on my dresser at home because I'd been saving them for the actual delivery day.
"I need to see her," I said, my voice suddenly sharp with certainty. "I need to see this woman who claims to be Mrs. Hansen."
The receptionist's eyes widened. "Oh, I don't think that's—"
"Please." I placed both hands on the counter, leaning forward despite my protruding belly. "I need to see the woman wearing my jewelry in my suite."
