Chapter 9: The Child They Stole From Me
I couldn’t move.
One of my twins.
Never born in that hospital.
The words made no sense.
I looked down at my son.
His tiny face was peaceful.
Unaware that the adults around him were tearing apart his entire existence.
“No.””
My voice came out weak.
“No, that’s not possible.””
Adrian looked uncomfortable for the first time.
“I’m sorry.””
I turned toward him.
“You’re sorry?””
My anger exploded.
“You were the doctor!””
He lowered his head.
“I was.””
“You held their records.””
“Yes.””
“You told me they died.””
His silence answered everything.
I stepped closer.
“Tell me the truth.””
Adrian looked at Matteo.
Then at Daniel.
Then finally at me.
“The night you gave birth, there was an attack.””
I remembered.
The alarms.
The confusion.
The nurses rushing around.
The pain.
“I was told there were complications.””
“There were.””
“Then what happened?””
Adrian swallowed.
“One of your sons was taken before the records were finalized.””
The room spun.
“Taken?””
“Yes.””
“By who?””
Nobody answered.
I grabbed Adrian’s jacket.
“By who?””
His eyes filled with guilt.
“By someone who believed your child belonged to them.””
My mother covered her mouth.
“No.””
I looked at her.
“You knew.””
Her eyes filled with tears.
“I suspected.””
The betrayal hurt worse than anything.
“You suspected?””
“I was trying to find him.””
“You were trying?””
I held my son tighter.
“I spent three months crying beside an empty grave!””
My mother broke down.
“I know.””
“No, you don’t.””
I stepped back.
“Because you had hope.””
The room became silent.
Daniel moved closer.
“Elena.””
I looked at him.
“Did you know?””
He looked destroyed.
“Not about the second child.””
I studied his face.
For the first time, I believed him.
That somehow made it worse.
Because there were still more secrets.
Matteo looked at his security team.
“Find every record.””
The guards moved immediately.
I looked at him.
“What are you doing?””
“Finding your son.””
The certainty in his voice almost broke me.
“You don’t even know him.””
Matteo looked at my baby.
“I know what it feels like to almost lose a child.””
That stopped me.
Because he did.
He had spent hours watching his daughter cry.
Terrified.
Helpless.
Just like me.
A guard rushed back.
“Boss.””
Everyone turned.
He held a tablet.
“We found the transfer documents.””
My heart raced.
“Where?””
The guard hesitated.
Matteo noticed.
“Say it.””
The guard looked at me.
“The missing child was transferred to a private facility.””
“Where?””
He swallowed.
“The Volkov family estate.””
Silence.
I looked at Matteo.
“No.””
His face had gone pale.
“My estate?””
The guard nodded.
“According to these records…”
He stopped.
Matteo stepped forward.
“Finish.””
The guard whispered:
“The child was raised under your protection.””
Nobody moved.
I felt dizzy.
“My son was with you?””
Matteo looked horrified.
“I didn’t know.””
But then something happened.
His phone buzzed.
A message.
He opened it.
His face changed.
I knew before he spoke.
“What?””
He turned the screen around.
A photograph.
A little boy.
Three months old.
Sitting in a room filled with toys.
Healthy.
Alive.
And beside him was a handwritten note.
“He always wondered why his mother never came.””
I covered my mouth.
My knees gave out.
Because the boy in the photograph had my eyes.
My face.
My son.
Then another message appeared.
This time, from the person who had taken him.
Matteo read it silently.
Then his hands tightened.
“What does it say?”” I asked.
He looked at me.
“The person who raised your son wants to meet.””
I wiped my tears.
“Who?””
Matteo hesitated.
Then said:
“The man who killed my father.””
The room went cold.
“And he says…”
May you like
Matteo looked at the message again.
“He says your son calls him Daddy.””
