Chapter 13 - BLOOD AND BOND

The world seemed to tilt on its axis. Everything I believed about myself—about my mother, my father, who I was—shattered into a thousand pieces.

Vanessa was my mother.

The woman who had hurt me. Who had tried to destroy me. Who had told me I was worthless and ashamed. That woman was my real mother.

I stood up slowly. My legs felt weak. I walked to the window and gripped the frame until my fingers turned white.

“It can’t be true,” I whispered.

My father picked up the letter and read the rest.

“I did not mean to hurt her. I only wanted what was mine. I wanted to be her mother. I wanted Elena’s place. And I wanted Adrian. But Elena would not share. She threatened to expose me. To send me away. So I removed her. And then I tried to make Mia love me. But she always looked at me with Elena’s eyes. She always chose Elena. Even though Elena was never her real mother.”

My father fell silent. He walked to me and placed his hands gently on my shoulders.

“Mia… we do not know if this is true. It could be another lie. Another manipulation.”

“But she wrote it,” I said quietly. “And she knew things. Things only a mother would know.” I turned to him. “What about the baby? Where is the child Elena supposedly lost?”

My father went pale. “There was a miscarriage. Early on. She was heartbroken. She said she needed time. Months later… she told me she was pregnant again. I believed her.”

“Vanessa was pregnant then too,” I said. “Right around the same time.”

My father sank into his chair. “They were born only three weeks apart. Elena said the baby was premature. I never questioned it.”

“Vanessa gave me to her,” I whispered. “And then she married you to get me back.”

“Which means,” my father said slowly, “that every cruel thing she did… was because she was jealous. She wanted you to love her. She wanted you to call her Mommy. And she could not bear that you loved Elena more—even though Elena was never your real mother.”

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I thought about everything—the tears, the beatings, the insults, the torn dress. All of it born from a twisted, terrible love. She had hurt me because she wanted me. She had tried to break me so I would need her.

“I need to know,” I said. “For certain.”