Chapter 2: Buried Truths

Stella’s POV

The soft glow of the nightlight painted Lily’s face in shades of gold and shadow. I sat beside her, my fingers brushing against the thin blanket tucked under her chin. Her breathing was steady, peaceful, her small body rising and falling in sleep. She looked so fragile yet so full of life—a contradiction I couldn’t make sense of, much like everything else in my world.

A sudden beep echoed in the quiet.

I flinched. My phone, a small intruder breaking into my moment of peace. It was the reminder I could never forget.

Medicine time.

Carefully, I stood and slipped out of the room, my footsteps almost soundless as I made my way to my bedroom. I didn’t need the light. I knew where they were. The little white bottle sat on my nightstand, the pills rattling softly as I poured them into my palm. I stared at them—two tiny capsules that somehow held the weight of my mortality.

Heart cancer.

I’d replayed the diagnosis in my mind a thousand times. “A rare and aggressive condition,” the doctor had said, his voice low and sympathetic, as if softening the blow would make it hurt any less. He told me I had months—months. Not years. Not time enough to fix my broken life or untangle all the choices I’d made that led me here.

My life hadn’t been favorable to me. I thought I’d fought my battles when my father disowned me, throwing me out of his home like trash after finding out I was pregnant from a stupid, reckless one-night stand with a man I couldn’t even remember. I had been naïve, lost, and alone.

And then, when I thought I’d found love, true love, my fiancé shattered that illusion.

“You’re damaged goods, Stella. I can’t raise another man’s child.”

The bitter memory clenched at my chest like a fist. I had been abandoned—discarded again. And yet, sitting here now, staring at the pills I needed to survive another day, those memories paled compared to the ache I felt for Lily. She wasn’t mine, but sometimes I wondered…what if she could have been? What happens next…

A knock at my door jerked me back to the present. I shoved the pill bottle into the drawer and quickly wiped at the tear streaking my cheek. “Come in.”

Maria poked her head in, her face pinched with worry. “Mrs. Norman?”

I hated when she called me that. It felt wrong, foreign—as if I had stolen someone else’s name and stitched it onto myself. “What is it, Maria?”

“It’s Tracy,” she said cautiously. “She’s here to see Lily.”

The name sent a chill through me. Tracy Keith. Jack’s ex-wife and Lily’s biological mother. The woman who had everything—wealth, beauty, status—and yet had thrown it all away. The woman who only appeared when it suited her, when there was something to gain.

I stood abruptly. “I’ll handle it.”

When I reached the foyer, Tracy was already there. She always arrived like a queen entering her court—high heels clicking sharply against the marble, a designer coat draped across her shoulders like armor. Her dark hair fell in perfect waves, framing a face that always seemed too smooth, too serene for someone whose life had left so much destruction in its wake.

“Tracy,” I greeted stiffly.

She turned, a slow, lazy smile tugging at her lips as she looked me up and down. “Stella.”

“Lily’s sleeping,” I said firmly, cutting to the chase. “You’ll have to come back tomorrow.”

Tracy arched a perfectly manicured brow. “You’re joking, right? I’m her mother. I’ll see her right now.”

I stepped forward, blocking her path. “She needs rest. You barging in here will only—”

“Barging in?” Tracy snapped, her voice sharp like glass. “You forget your place, Stella. You’re nothing but Jack’s arrangement. A stand-in, a placeholder. You don’t get to tell me when I can or can’t see my daughter.”

Her words stung, but I didn’t flinch. “Then maybe you should act like her mother. She’s been fighting for her life, Tracy. Where were you?”

Her eyes narrowed, and for a moment, I thought she might slap me. Instead, she smiled—a cruel, cold smile that made my skin crawl. “Don’t pretend you care, Stella. You’re just playing house because it makes you feel better about your pathetic little life.”

I opened my mouth to fire back, but before I could, a voice cut through the air like a whip.

“What the hell is going on here?”

Jack’s voice echoed from behind us. We both turned to see him standing in the archway, his brown eyes dark and furious. His sleeves were rolled up, his tie hanging loosely around his neck. He looked powerful, imposing—and angry.

Tracy turned on her charm like a switch, her demeanor softening as she sauntered toward him. “Jack,” she purred, placing her hands on his chest. “I was just telling Stella I came to see my baby, Lily. I’ve been so busy with work, but I’m here now, and I’m so glad Lily is okay—”

Jack’s expression didn’t change. “What kind of mother are you?” he demanded, his voice low but filled with venom. “Lily could’ve died, Tracy. She was in a hospital bed for days, and you couldn’t be bothered to show up. If you can’t be a wife, the least you can do is be a good mother.”

Her face fell, her hands slipping from his chest. “Jack—”

“Leave.”

He turned away from her, his anger palpable as he stormed out of the room, leaving Tracy standing there in stunned silence.

Slowly, she turned to me, her face twisting with rage.

“This isn’t over,” she hissed. “You think you’ve won, don’t you? That Jack’s yours? You’re nothing, Stella. Jack will come back to me. He always does.”

Her words clung to me like smoke as she turned and stalked out of the house. I stood there for a moment, frozen, the echo of her heels still ringing in my ears.

Jack was never mine to begin with.

We were bound by paper and circumstance, nothing more. I had no claim to him, no reason to feel anything about him. But the way Tracy looked at me—as though I had something she wanted—unnerved me more than I cared to admit.

I turned back toward the stairs, my mind heavy with thoughts. That was when my phone buzzed.

I frowned and pulled it from my pocket. A new text message.

Anonymous sender.

The words on the screen sent a chill down my spine.

“Same hospital you gave birth in six years ago. Same ward. Do you remember?”

My breath caught in my throat. I read the message again, my heart pounding in my chest. The hospital. My delivery. That night I tried so hard to forget—the pain, the confusion, the blur of faces and voices as I gave birth alone.

How did they know?

The text felt like a key, unlocking something dark and buried within me. My mind raced back to Lily, to the day I had held her tiny hand in mine and felt an inexplicable bond—a bond I couldn’t explain.

Could it be possible?

No. I shook my head. It didn’t make sense. My baby… she hadn’t survived. I saw her with my eyes and I had been told she was gone, that there was nothing they could do.

And yet…

I gripped my phone tighter, my pulse thundering in my ears. I needed answers. I needed to know why this text had come now, why Lily felt so much like a part of me.

There was one person who might know the truth. The nurse. The woman who had overseen my delivery eight years ago. I had buried her face in the recesses of my memory, but now it surged back like a tidal wave.

I would find her.

I didn’t care what it took. I didn’t care how many doors I had to knock on or how many questions I had to ask. There was a truth here—a truth that had been kept from me—and I would uncover it.

As I stood in the darkened hallway, staring at my phone, a chill ran through me.

What if Lily… what if she’s mine?

And if she was, what would that mean for everything—and everyone—around me?

In the silence of the house, the shadows seemed to grow darker. Somewhere upstairs, Lily slept peacefully, unaware of the storm I was about to unleash.