Chapter 3 - The Missing Year
When I returned to the penthouse, the silence was deafening. I found Lena in the guest bedroom. She was sitting in a plush armchair, watching Grace sleep in the center of the massive king-sized bed. Lena had showered. She wore one of my oversized shirts. She looked so small, yet stronger than anyone I had ever known.
I sat on the edge of the bed, leaving a respectful distance between us. I wanted to pull her into my arms, to hold her until the trauma faded, but I knew I couldn't rush this. She was a survivor.
“Tell me,” I said softly. “Tell me everything.”
Lena didn't look at me at first. She kept her eyes on Grace. “It was a Tuesday,” she began, her voice hollow. “I was driving to the clinic. I wanted to surprise you with the ultrasound. I wanted you to see the heartbeat before I told you.”
My chest tightened. I remembered that Tuesday. The police had come to my office at 3 PM.
“A black SUV ran me off the road near the cliffs,” she continued. “I hit my head. When I woke up, I wasn't in a hospital. I was in a basement room. Concrete walls. No windows.”
Tears welled in her eyes, but she didn't let them fall. “A man came in. He told me the world thought I was dead. He said if I tried to escape, they would kill you, Daniel. He said your mother demanded my complete disappearance.”
“Why?” I whispered, though I already knew the answer. Lena was the daughter of a mechanic. She had no pedigree. No trust fund. To Eleanor Vance, she was a parasite. A threat to the bloodline.
“Because I wasn't good enough,” Lena said, echoing my thoughts. “But then, the doctor came. They realized I was pregnant. Your mother’s orders changed. I wasn't to be harmed. I was to be an incubator.”
My fists clenched so hard my nails dug into my palms.
“They kept me in a cabin in Montana,” she said. “Guarded 24/7. When Grace was born, they took her from me immediately. They only brought her to me for feeding. They told me that once she was weaned, I would be... disposed of. And Grace would be brought to you as an orphan of a distant relative.”
I felt physically ill. My mother’s cruelty knew no bounds.
“How did you get away?”
Lena finally looked at me. There was a fierce, primal fire in her eyes. “One of the guards. He was young. He made a mistake. He left the back door unlocked during a snowstorm. I took Grace, and I ran. We hitchhiked. We slept in shelters. It took me a month to get back to New York.”
She reached out, her fingers hesitantly touching my hand. “I didn't know if you were part of it, Daniel. For a long time, I thought maybe you agreed to let her do this. But when I saw you outside the hotel... your eyes. I knew.”
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I dropped to my knees beside her chair. I took her hands and pressed them to my forehead. “I would have burned the world to the ground if I knew you were alive,” I swore, my voice breaking. “I will never let them touch you again. Either of you.”
Lena leaned down, resting her head against mine. For the first time in over a year, she let out a sob. And in that quiet room, holding the woman I loved, my grief finally turned into something else. It turned into war.
