Chapter 2

The ride home felt endless. The lights outside blurred together as I sat in silence, clutching the paper bag of food Steve had been craving for days. His favorite pasta—the one he’d begged for since he got discharged from the hospital.

Even after everything I’d learned tonight… I couldn’t bring myself to hate him.

Steve wasn’t mine. Not by blood, not by the cruel truth that had been shoved in my face. But he had been mine since the moment I held him. I was there for his first breath, his first word, his first step. I was the one who stayed up during his fevers, who kissed his scraped knees, who sang him to sleep.

He wasn’t my biological son. But he was my heart.

And the man I trusted most had stolen that from me.

As the car stopped in front of the house, I sat there for a long moment, gripping the steering wheel. I hated that all my love, all my dreams, all my devotion—had been given to a child who wasn’t even mine… while my real daughter was out there somewhere, unloved, alone.

My mind flashed back to that day in the hospital five years ago.

The nurse had said, “Congratulations, it’s a baby girl!”

But then, a few hours later, another nurse entered the room, saying there had been a “mistake” and that I had a son instead. I’d been weak from the delivery, barely awake, and Stephen had told me not to worry.

“It’s a clerical error, sweetheart,” he’d said, smiling gently. “We have our baby boy.”

And I had believed him. Now that memory made my blood run cold.

What had he done? Where was my daughter?

I pushed open the door and walked into the house. Everything looked the same—warm lights, soft music, the faint scent of vanilla candles. But the air felt heavy.

Then, from down the hall, I heard voices.

Steve’s voice. Small, confused, breaking.

“No! Aunt Lana is not my mom! I don’t want her! I only want Mommy Natasha!”

My heart stopped. I hurried toward the sound, and what I saw made my entire body tremble.

Stephen was kneeling in front of Steve, his tone calm but firm. “Steve, listen to me, okay? She’s your real mother. You have to understand that. Just call her Mommy Lana only when Natasha is not around.”

Steve’s face was red, tears streaming down his cheeks. “No! You’re lying! I only have one mommy!” He shoved Stephen’s hands away and ran.

“Steve!” I shouted as he stumbled—his tiny legs tripping on the carpet. He almost fell, but I caught him just in time.

He clung to me, sobbing. “Mommy, tell them it’s not true! Please! You’re my mommy!”

My chest ached so badly I could barely breathe. I lifted my gaze—and met Stephen’s startled eyes. “What the hell are you doing?” I hissed. “He’s not even fully healed, and you’re confusing him like this?”

Stephen stood up, trying to compose himself. “We were just talking—”

“Talking?” I snapped. “What kind of talk makes a child cry like this?”

Then Lana stepped forward, her arms crossed, her expression unbothered. “Relax, Natasha. We were just playing.”

I laughed bitterly. “Playing? What kind of play lets my son call you Mommy when you’re just his Aunt Lana?”

Lana smirked. “Well, I can be his real mother too. After all, we’re sisters. What’s so wrong about that?”

Something inside me snapped.

“You’re not his mother,” I spat, my voice trembling with rage. “So stop living in that dream of yours because it’s pathetic. If you want a child so badly, go have one on your own. Leave mine alone!”

Lana’s smile vanished. Her eyes darkened. “Don’t talk to me like that,” she hissed—and before I could react, her hand came down sharply across my cheek.

The sound echoed through the hall.

For a moment, I was too shocked to move. Then, slowly, I raised my hand and slapped her back.

“How dare you?” I whispered, trembling. “You’re just an adopted daughter. My family took you in, gave you everything—and this is how you repay us? Have you forgotten where you came from, Lana?”

Tears filled her eyes—not of guilt, but anger. “You always think you’re better than me. But you’re not, Natasha. Everything you have was given to you. The company, the house, even Stephen. But me? I had to fight for every piece of love I could get—and I won’t lose this time.”

Her words stung, but before I could respond, Stephen’s voice thundered across the room.

“Enough!”

He stepped between us, his face twisted in anger. “Natasha, how dare you slap her?”

I turned to him, disbelief flooding me. “How dare I?”

“Yes!” he snapped. “Lana is your sister. She’s been trying to bond with Steve, and you humiliate her like this?”

“I humiliated her?” I laughed, but it came out bitter. “You’re the one who did it to me when you want to play house and let Steve call her mother. Why? Is there something you’re not telling me about Steve?”

His eyes flickered, guilt flashing for a second—but it was gone as quickly as it came. “You’re overreacting. I told you it was just a game,” he said as if I was a fool to believe that.

And worse, he slapped me. The sting spread across my face, hot and sharp. The sound of it made Steve cry harder, clutching my dress.

I stared at Stephen in disbelief. He’d never laid a hand on me before. Not once. And for a split second, I saw something in his eyes—regret, maybe—but it was too late. The line had been crossed.

I held Steve close, my voice steady even as tears slid down my face. “You disappointed me, Stephen. I never thought you’d become this.”

He tried to reach for me, but I stepped back.

“We’re done,” I said, coldly. “I’ll have the papers ready by morning, and Steve and I will be leaving.”