Chapter Seven: The Truth, Told In A Hospital Room
Mikhail woke up at noon.
Lian was in the chair beside his bed.
She had changed her scrubs. Brushed her hair.
She wanted to look like someone’s mother.
Not like a woman who had been crying all night.
“Where’s my dad?” Mikhail’s voice was small. Raspy.
“He’s coming. He just stepped out.”
“Who are you?”
Lian smiled.
It hurt.
“I’m your doctor. My name is Dr. Harper.”
“You’re pretty.”
She laughed. A real laugh.
“Thank you. You’re very handsome.”
“My dad says I look like my mom. But she died when I was born.”
The door opened.
Kael walked in.
He had changed his shirt. But his eyes were still raw.
“Hey, kid.”
“Dad. I got shot.”
“I know. You were brave.”
“It hurt.”
“I know.”
Mikhail looked between them.
“Are you guys friends?”
Kael looked at Lian.
“We knew each other a long time ago,” Kael said carefully.
“Before I was born?”
“Yeah.”
Mikhail’s eyes narrowed.
“Dad. You’re being weird.”
Lian almost laughed again.
“We need to talk to you about something,” she said gently. “Something important.”
Mikhail looked at her. Then at Kael.
“Is it about my mom?”
The room went silent.
Kael sat on the edge of the bed.
“How did you know?”
Mikhail shrugged with his good shoulder.
“I’m not stupid. You never show anyone my baby pictures. You never talk about her. And she”—he pointed at Lian—”she looks like me.”
Kael closed his eyes.
Lian took Mikhail’s hand.
“I’m your mother,” she said. “I didn’t die. I didn’t abandon you. Your father took you to protect you from someone very dangerous. He told everyone I died. But I didn’t.”
Mikhail didn’t cry.
He just looked at her.
For a long, terrible moment, he just looked.
“Did you want to keep me?”
Lian’s throat closed.
“Yes,” she whispered. “More than anything.”
“Then why didn’t you?”
“Because I didn’t know you existed. Your father hid you from me. He told me you died.”
Mikhail turned to Kael.
“You lied to both of us.”
“I did.”
“You said she was dead.”
“I know.”
“You said I didn’t have a mom.”
“I know.”
Mikhail’s lip trembled.
But he didn’t cry.
He just took Lian’s hand and held it.
“Okay,” he said quietly.
“Okay?” Kael asked.
“Okay. She’s here now. That’s what matters.”
Lian broke.
She pulled Mikhail into her arms — carefully, so carefully — and held him.
She held her son.
For the first time in seven years.
Kael watched them.
His face was unreadable.
But his hands were shaking.
