Chapter 8: The Child I Never Knew

I didn’t sleep.

I couldn’t.

Daniel’s words kept replaying.

Your daughter.

It didn’t make sense.

It was impossible.

I had never been pregnant before Logan.

I knew my own life.

Didn’t I?

The next morning, I drove to the police station with one question.

“Who is my daughter?””

The detective assigned to the case looked uncomfortable when I asked.

That was when I knew the answer existed.

“Detective,” I said, “please stop protecting me from the truth.””

He sighed.

“Mrs. Miller, there are records we need to review.””

“Records of what?””

He opened a file.

Not a school file.

A hospital file.

My name was on it.

My hands went cold.

“This is impossible.””

He pushed it toward me.

I read the first line.

*Patient: Rachel Miller.*

*Date: Eight years ago.*

My eyes moved lower.

And stopped.

*Birth: Female infant.*

I couldn’t breathe.

“No.””

The detective watched me carefully.

“You were told the baby didn’t survive.””

I stared at the page.

“I never had a baby.””

“You did.””

My hands started shaking.

“What happened?””

He hesitated.

“Your medical records were altered.””

“By who?””

He looked at the paperwork.

“That’s what we’re trying to determine.””

I stood.

“No.””

My voice became stronger.

“No more waiting. No more investigations while people hide things from me.””

I grabbed the file.

“Tell me everything.””

The detective leaned forward.

“Eight years ago, you gave birth to a baby girl.””

My eyes filled.

“Where is she?””

“We don’t know.””

The room felt smaller.

“She disappeared from the hospital.””

My heart shattered.

“And nobody told me?””

“You were heavily sedated after delivery. You were informed the baby had complications.””

I shook my head.

“That’s not possible.””

“Why?””

“Because I remember.””

I looked at him.

“I remember holding Logan.””

The detective froze.

“What did you say?””

I stopped.

Because I realized my own mistake.

I remembered holding a baby.

But I had always assumed it was Logan.

The detective opened another document.

“There’s more.””

A photograph was attached.

A newborn baby.

A hospital bracelet.

And a name.

*Lily Miller.*

I touched the picture.

A baby I had never known existed.

A child who had vanished.

A child connected to Mrs. Hart.

My phone buzzed.

Another message.

This time from Daniel.

*Do not trust the police.*

Then another.

*They knew about Lily.*

I looked up.

The detective was watching me.

“Who sent that?””

I didn’t answer.

Because another message appeared.

A photo.

Daniel sitting in a car.

Alive.

And beside him…

Mrs. Hart.

My hands went numb.

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