Chapter 1 - The Poison Wasn't Meant for My Baby—It Was Meant for Me, and the Nurse Who Entered the Nursery Knew WhyThe doctor tested my water twice before he looked at Adrian.
That was when I knew the situation was worse than I had imagined.
He had been standing beside the kitchen island for nearly ten minutes, examining the sample he had taken from the bottle I had been drinking that morning.
His first test had made him frown.
His second had made him go completely silent.
Now he slowly removed his gloves.
“This wasn't meant for the baby.”
The room went cold.
I held Lucas tighter against my chest.
“What do you mean?”
The doctor looked at Adrian.
“The compound reacts much faster in adults. Lucas only received traces through you.”
My heartbeat seemed to stop.
“You're saying…”
“Someone was trying to kill Hannah.”
Adrian's face hardened instantly.
“Seal the house.”
His voice carried through the kitchen like a gunshot.
Within seconds, doors slammed shut.
Security guards appeared from every hallway.
Phones were collected.
The household staff were ordered into the dining room.
Every bedroom was searched.
Every cabinet was opened.
Every bottle of water was confiscated.
I sat in a chair with Lucas against my chest, staring at the tiny boy sleeping peacefully.
His breathing had finally steadied.
Thank God.
I pressed my lips against his forehead.
If the poison had reached him in a larger amount, the doctor said he might not have survived.
My stomach twisted.
Someone had intended to kill me.
And they had almost killed my baby instead.
I looked at Adrian.
He stood near the windows, speaking quietly to his chief of security.
He looked completely calm.
Too calm.
That frightened me more than shouting would have.
“Why would anyone here want me dead?”
Adrian didn't answer.
I stared at him.
“Why?”
He kept looking toward the courtyard.
“Adrian.”
Nothing.
That silence told me enough.
“You know something.”
His jaw tightened.
Finally he turned.
“Lucas's mother didn't die giving birth.”
I felt the room tilt.
“What?”
“Elena was murdered.”
My fingers tightened around Lucas.
“Elena?”
Adrian nodded.
“She discovered someone close to me was moving money through my shipping companies.”
“Who?”
“She threatened to expose them.”
“And they killed her?”
“Yes.”
I looked down at Lucas.
He was six months old.
Elena had died before I came into Adrian's life.
I had heard the story many times.
Complications during childbirth.
A tragic death.
A devastated husband.
A newborn son who survived.
I had believed it.
Apparently I had believed a lie.
“Why would they target me now?”
Adrian's eyes remained on mine.
“They think you know something.”
“No.”
His voice dropped.
“They think you are something.”
Before I could ask what that meant, one of the guards hurried into the kitchen.
“Mr. Mercer.”
Adrian turned.
“We found this inside the west office.”
He carried a thick brown folder.
Adrian took it.
Opened it.
Then every trace of color disappeared from his face.
“What?”
He didn't answer.
He handed the folder to me.
Inside was a photograph.
Me.
Sitting beside Grace's incubator.
Hours before she died.
My hands started shaking.
Someone had taken the photograph through the glass.
I remembered that night.
The sterile hospital.
The blue light.
The machines.
Grace's tiny body.
The doctor's voice.
“I'm sorry.”
The photograph was from twenty-three months ago.
I had never told anyone about those final hours.
I turned it over.
Six words had been written on the back.
THE WRONG BABY DIED THAT NIGHT.
My knees nearly gave out.
“What does that mean?”
Adrian said nothing.
“Adrian.”
Still nothing.
Then Lucas began crying.
I looked down.
His little face had turned red.
I rocked him gently.
And that's when I noticed it.
A faint crescent-shaped birthmark behind his left ear.
My heart stopped.
Grace had the same mark.
I remembered it clearly.
A pale crescent near the base of her tiny neck.
I had kissed it the night before she died.
“No.”
I whispered.
Adrian stepped toward me.
“Hannah, listen to me.”
I backed away.
“What did you do?”
“I didn't know until yesterday.”
“Know what?”
He opened his mouth.
Before he could answer, the nursery door opened.
An elderly nurse stood there.
She was trembling.
I recognized her instantly.
She had been in the delivery room when Grace was born.
The nurse looked at Lucas.
Then at me.
Her eyes filled with tears.
“Mrs. Mercer…”
I couldn't breathe.
She whispered:
“Your daughter didn't die.”
The room disappeared.
The walls.
The guards.
Adrian.
Everything.
Only those words remained.
“My daughter died.”
“No.”
The nurse shook her head.
“She didn't.”
“You were there.”
“Yes.”
“I held her.”
“You held another baby.”
I stared at her.
Adrian looked stunned.
“What are you saying?”
The nurse took one step forward.
“I was told to keep quiet.”
“By whom?”
She looked at Adrian.
Then away.
“By the man who owned the hospital.”
Adrian's voice turned deadly.
“Who?”
She swallowed.
“Your father.”
Silence.
I stared at Adrian.
“My father had nothing to do with Grace.”
The nurse shook her head.
“He had everything to do with her.”
Adrian stepped forward.
“Explain.”
The nurse's hands trembled.
“There were two babies in the neonatal unit that night.”
“Twins?”
“No.”
She looked at Lucas.
“One was yours.”
My heart hammered.
“And the other?”
The nurse closed her eyes.
“Grace.”
I couldn't understand.
“Where is she?”
The nurse hesitated.
“That is why someone tried to poison you.”
Adrian's face went rigid.
“Where is my daughter?”
The nurse looked at me.
“She is alive.”
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Then she whispered:
“And for almost two years, someone has been raising her under another name.”
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