Chapter 2 - THE WRONG BABY
Nobody moved.
Not Victor.
Not Hannah.
Not Nikolai.
Elena’s voice continued through Hannah’s phone, thin with distance but unmistakably alive.
“Hannah, I need you to listen carefully.”
Hannah stared at the photograph in her hand.
“Elena, what do you mean he found the wrong baby?”
Nikolai stepped forward.
“End the call.”
Victor turned his head.
One look stopped his brother.
Elena heard him.
“Nikolai’s there?”
“Yes,” Hannah said.
A long breath came through the speaker.
“Then perhaps it’s time he heard this too.”
Nikolai’s face hardened.
Victor said nothing.
Elena continued.
“Twenty-nine years ago, two newborn girls left Mercy House within forty-eight hours of each other. Someone altered both records.”
Hannah looked at the maternity file.
“My mother’s?”
“Yes.”
“And the other baby?”
“That child went to a family in Vermont.”
Nikolai closed his eyes.
Victor noticed.
“You know who she means.”
Nikolai said quietly, “Yes.”
Hannah’s stomach tightened.
“What happened to that girl?”
“She lived,” Elena said immediately. “She grew up safely. Nikolai never hurt her.”
That answer relieved one fear.
Then opened another.
“Then why did you say he found the wrong baby?”
Elena was silent for several seconds.
“Because twenty-nine years ago, Nikolai was looking for Victor Malenkov’s daughter.”
Victor finally spoke.
“I didn’t have a daughter.”
Elena’s response came softly.
“Yes, Victor. You did.”
The words seemed to hollow out the room.
Hannah looked at Victor.
He looked almost angry.
Not at her.
At reality.
“Elena.”
“I’m sorry.”
“You knew?”
“Not when she was born.”
Victor’s voice dropped.
“Who was her mother?”
Elena did not answer directly.
Instead she asked Hannah a question.
“Is your father still in room 418?”
“Yes.”
“Go to him.”
Nikolai shook his head.
“Victor, don’t.”
Victor faced him.
“You’ve used that word twice tonight.”
Nikolai held his gaze.
“And I meant it both times.”
“Then give me a reason.”
Nikolai looked toward Hannah.
The anger left his face.
What replaced it was worse.
Shame.
“Because once she hears Catherine’s maiden name, nothing goes back to what it was.”
Hannah stared.
“What was my mother’s maiden name?”
Neither man answered.
Elena did.
“Lane.”
Victor went perfectly still.
Hannah saw the recognition immediately.
“You knew Catherine Lane.”
Victor sat down slowly on the edge of an old wooden pew.
Twenty-nine years vanished from his posture.
“She worked evenings at a diner near Charlestown.”
Hannah’s voice barely worked.
“You knew my mother.”
“For three months.”
Nikolai looked away.
Victor continued as though every sentence cost him.
“I was twenty-four. My father had sent me back from New York after I’d made a mistake he considered embarrassing. Catherine didn’t know who I was at first.”
“What kind of relationship?”
Victor met her eyes.
“Not casual.”
Hannah felt the maternity papers trembling between her fingers.
“How serious?”
“I asked her to leave Boston with me.”
That landed harder than Hannah expected.
“My mother?”
“She said no.”
“Why?”
“She told me she wanted a life without men who solved problems using fear.”
Victor gave a humorless smile.
“She understood me better at twenty-three than most people understand me now.”
Hannah swallowed.
“Did you sleep with her?”
Nikolai murmured, “Hannah—”
She snapped around.
“I’m twenty-nine years old. Stop protecting me from basic arithmetic.”
Victor answered.
“Yes.”
Silence.
Hannah looked at the photograph again.
Victor’s daughter.
Her birthday.
Her mother.
Victor.
The room suddenly felt too small.
“But that doesn’t prove I’m your daughter.”
“No,” Victor said.
Elena spoke from the phone.
“That’s why you need Richard.”
They left Mercy House immediately.
Nikolai followed.
Victor did not invite him.
He simply did not stop him.
During the drive, Hannah sat beside Victor in the back of the SUV.
For the first time since meeting him, he had nothing to say.
She understood.
Less than one day ago, she had been a waitress worried about tuition.
Now Boston’s most feared man might be her father.
“You don’t have to stare at me,” she finally said.
Victor turned toward the window.
“I’m not.”
“You’ve checked my face in the reflection six times.”
His mouth tightened.
“Seven.”
Despite everything, Hannah almost laughed.
Almost.
At the rehabilitation center, Richard Pierce was sitting upright in bed when they entered.
An old envelope rested in his lap.
He saw Victor.
Whatever blood remained in his face disappeared.
Victor stayed near the door.
Richard looked at Hannah.
“You found out.”
“I found enough to know you owe me the truth.”
Richard’s eyes filled.
“I always knew this day might come.”
Hannah hated how calmly he said it.
“Did you know Victor?”
“No.”
“Did Mom?”
“Yes.”
“How well?”
Richard glanced at Victor.
“Apparently well enough to spend twenty-nine years haunting all of us.”
Victor took that without reaction.
Hannah sat beside the bed.
“Dad, am I Victor Malenkov’s daughter?”
Richard closed his eyes.
“I’m your father.”
“That isn’t what I asked.”
His eyes opened again.
Pain moved across his face.
“No. It isn’t.”
He reached into the envelope and removed a small hospital bracelet.
Yellowed plastic.
Faded handwriting.
INFANT GIRL — LANE, C.
November 14.
Hannah took it.
Her fingers shook.
Richard removed another object.
A man’s wristwatch.
Old.
Gold.
The crystal was cracked diagonally.
Victor took one step forward.
“No.”
Richard held it toward him.
“You recognize this?”
Victor did not touch it.
“I gave Catherine that watch.”
Hannah looked between them.
“When?”
“The last night I saw her.”
Victor finally took it.
On the back were two engraved initials.
V.M.
Below them, a date.
Twenty-nine years ago.
Richard whispered, “Catherine kept it until the day she died.”
Hannah could barely breathe.
Victor’s voice was rough.
“Why didn’t she tell me?”
“Because someone came to Mercy House before Hannah was forty-eight hours old.”
Nikolai went pale.
Richard looked directly at him.
“Your brother.”
Hannah turned.
Nikolai did not deny it.
“You went after me?”
“I went looking for a baby.”
“Why?”
He hesitated.
That hesitation told her everything.
Victor stepped toward him.
“Nikolai.”
“I was following an order.”
“Whose?”
Nikolai looked at his brother.
“Our mother’s.”
The room froze.
Victor’s mother had founded the foundation.
Had controlled Mercy House.
Had paid Catherine.
Hannah whispered, “Why would your mother care who my father was?”
Nikolai’s eyes moved toward the old hospital bracelet.
“Because our father’s trust had one rule.”
Victor seemed to understand before Hannah did.
Nikolai continued.
“The first biological child of either Malenkov son inherited controlling ownership when they turned thirty.”
Hannah stared.
Victor’s expression changed.
“My father changed the trust?”
“Six months before Hannah was born.”
“And you knew.”
“Yes.”
Hannah stood.
“So this wasn’t about protecting me.”
Nikolai looked at her.
“At first?”
His answer came painfully.
“No.”
Victor grabbed his brother by the coat.
Richard flinched.
Hannah stepped forward.
“Victor.”
Victor stopped.
Not because Nikolai resisted.
Because Hannah had spoken his name.
He released him.
Nikolai straightened his coat.
“I never touched Hannah.”
“You found the wrong child,” Victor said.
Nikolai nodded.
“The records said Catherine Lane’s baby had been transferred north.”
“But I wasn’t.”
“No.”
Richard spoke.
“Because Elena canceled the transfer.”
Everyone looked at him.
Richard opened the envelope again.
There was one final item.
A photograph.
Catherine stood outside Mercy House holding newborn Hannah.
Beside her was Elena.
And behind Elena, half hidden near a parked car, stood a much younger Nikolai.
Richard turned it over.
Catherine had written one sentence.
NIKOLAI KNOWS HE FOLLOWED THE WRONG CHILD. HE HAS NEVER TOLD SOFIA.
Victor read it twice.
Then looked up.
Nikolai whispered, “I didn’t make a mistake.”
Hannah’s heart stopped.
“What?”
May you like
Nikolai looked directly at her.
“I chose the wrong baby.”
