Chapter Four: What The Blood Work Revealed
Lian couldn’t sleep.
She sat in her office at 2 AM, reviewing Mikhail’s chart.
The bullet was a 9mm. Standard. Untraceable.
The entry wound suggested the shooter was standing over the boy. Execution style.
But executioners don’t miss.
This wasn’t an assassination attempt.
It was a message.
Someone wanted Kael to suffer.
Her computer pinged. Lab results.
She opened them.
Mikhail Vex. Blood type: O-negative.
Same as her.
Same as the baby she lost.
Coincidence.
She pulled up the boy’s admission photo.
Dark hair. Grey eyes. Small mole above his left eyebrow.
Just like hers.
Lian’s hands started shaking.
She pulled up his birth certificate.
Mother: Deceased. Name withheld per father’s request.
She pulled up the newborn screening.
Cord blood analysis: Maternal blood type O-negative confirmed. Infant required RhoGAM prophylaxis.
Maternal blood type confirmed.
That meant the mother was known at birth.
That meant the mother existed.
But her baby died.
She pulled up the NICU admission log from five years ago.
Her own name. Her own medical record number. A baby boy, 32 weeks, 4 pounds 2 ounces.
Discharged — not deceased — to “private guardian” within 24 hours.
Signed by a doctor she didn’t recognize.
A doctor who no longer worked at the hospital.
Lian stood up so fast her chair fell over.
She walked to the recovery room.
Kael was inside. Sitting in a plastic chair beside Mikhail’s bed. His head was in his hands.
She opened the door.
He looked up.
His eyes were red.
“Where is the grave?” she asked.
“What?”
“Where is my son’s grave? The one I supposedly buried. The one I’ve been visiting for five years. The one with the headstone I paid for.”
Kael went pale.
“Tell me the truth, Kael. Right now. Or I swear to God, I will walk out of this room and let Dante have you both.”
Kael stood up slowly.
His hands were shaking.
“He’s not dead.”
“I know he’s not dead. I just read the NICU log. You took him. You took our son while I was unconscious. You told everyone he died.”
“I told you he died.”
“You let me mourn.”
“I let you live.”
Lian slapped him.
The sound cracked through the quiet room.
Kael didn’t move.
His cheek turned red.
“I did it to protect him from Dante,” he said quietly. “Your brother. The one your parents never told you about. He found out about the pregnancy. He threatened to take the baby. To raise him as a weapon.”
“So you made me a grave.”
“I made you a safe distance.”
Lian walked to the bed.
She looked down at Mikhail’s face.
His small hand was curled on the blanket.
He looked peaceful.
He looked like her.
“Get out,” she said.
“Lian—”
“Get out of this room. Get out of this hospital. If you ever come near me again, I will have you arrested for kidnapping and fraud.”
Kael didn’t move.
“Mikhail needs you.”
“He doesn’t even know me.”
“Then let me tell him. Tonight.”
Lian turned.
Her eyes were burning.
“You will tell him the truth. Every word. And then you will leave, and I will decide if I ever want to see either of you again.”
Kael nodded.
He walked to the door.
“He doesn’t know about you,” he said. “He thinks his mother died in childbirth. He’s never asked questions.”
“He’s seven years old. Of course he’s asked. You just never answered.”
Kael left.
Lian pulled the plastic chair closer to Mikhail’s bed.
She took his small hand.
His fingers closed around hers automatically.
Even in sleep. Even sedated. Even with a bullet through his chest.
He held on.
She pressed her lips to his knuckles.
And for the first time in five years, Lian Harper cried.
