Chapter 3: The Baby They Tried to Erase
Sophia stared at the hospital bracelet until the words blurred.
*Your son was never the only one.*
Six words.
Six words that turned a lifetime of certainty into a thousand impossible questions.
The rain had stopped, but she still felt frozen.
“Ms. Whitmore?””
Marcus’s voice pulled her back.
She looked up.
The street was almost empty now. The crowd had disappeared, the traffic had started moving again, and Daniel Cross was gone.
But the fear he left behind remained.
Sophia closed her fingers around the bracelet.
“Take us home.””
Marcus looked at Ethan.
The boy was sitting quietly in the back seat, holding the old photograph against his chest.
For the first time since she had found him, he looked less afraid.
But not safe.
Not yet.
Marcus opened the passenger door.
Sophia stopped before getting inside.
She looked at the black SUV across the street.
It was still there.
Watching.
“Marcus.””
“Yes?””
“Can you find out who owns that vehicle?””
Marcus followed her gaze.
His expression changed immediately.
“I’ll handle it.””
Sophia nodded.
Then she got into the car.
The drive back to her mansion felt longer than any journey she had ever taken.
Ethan sat in the back seat.
Silent.
Sophia watched him through the mirror.
Every few seconds, she caught herself looking at him.
The way he tapped his fingers against the seat.
The way he stared out the window.
The way he held the photograph like someone might take it away.
She had spent ten years imagining what her child would look like.
Would he have her eyes?
Would he laugh like his father?
Would he love music like she did?
Would he hate thunderstorms?
She had asked herself those questions thousands of times.
But she never imagined he would arrive like this.
Cold.
Hungry.
Carrying proof that someone had stolen his entire childhood.
When they arrived home, Ethan stepped out of the car slowly.
He looked up at the enormous house.
The tall windows.
The stone staircase.
The perfectly trimmed gardens.
His expression changed.
“Do you live here?””
Sophia nodded.
“Yes.””
He looked around.
“Alone?””
The question surprised her.
“Yes.””
The boy looked down.
“Must be lonely.””
Sophia almost smiled.
Almost.
“Yes,” she whispered.
A seven-year-old child had noticed something that most adults never did.
The house was beautiful.
But it had never felt like home.
Inside, Sophia led him to the kitchen.
The staff had already been dismissed for the night.
She wanted privacy.
She wanted time.
She wanted answers.
But most importantly, she wanted Ethan to feel safe.
“Are you hungry?””
Ethan hesitated.
“A little.””
Sophia opened the refrigerator.
For a moment, she just stood there.
She had assistants who arranged her schedule.
Chefs who prepared her meals.
People who handled every detail of her life.
But she had no idea what a seven-year-old child liked to eat.
She looked back at him.
“What do you usually have for dinner?””
Ethan shrugged.
“Whatever there is.””
That answer hurt more than she expected.
Sophia took out ingredients.
She made grilled cheese sandwiches.
Not because it was difficult.
Because it was something simple.
Something normal.
Something a mother would make.
When she placed the plate in front of him, Ethan stared at it.
“What?””
Sophia worried she had done something wrong.
He touched the sandwich carefully.
“My grandma used to make these.””
Sophia stopped.
“Your grandmother?””
He nodded.
“She burned them sometimes.””
A small smile appeared.
“But she always said the burnt parts were the best.””
Sophia looked away.
She didn’t want him to see how much that hurt.
Because whoever that woman was, whoever had taken him, she had become the only mother Ethan knew.
Sophia couldn’t hate that.
Not when Ethan loved her.
“Tell me about her,” Sophia said softly.
Ethan took a bite.
“She was nice.””
“What was her name?””
“Clara.””
Sophia froze.
The name meant nothing.
But something about it bothered her.
“What else?””
Ethan thought.
“She told me my real mom was brave.””
Sophia looked at him.
“She said that?””
“Yeah.””
“When?””
“Whenever I asked about you.””
Sophia’s hands tightened around her coffee cup.
“If she thought I was your mother, why didn’t she bring you to me?””
Ethan looked down.
“She said she tried.””
The answer surprised Sophia.
“What?””
“She said she tried to contact you.””
“When?””
“I don’t know.””
Ethan frowned.
“She had letters.””
Sophia went still.
“Letters?””
He nodded.
“She kept them in a box.””
“Where is the box now?””
Ethan’s face changed.
“I don’t know.””
“Why?””
“Because after she died, two men came to our apartment.””
Sophia’s heart sank.
“What men?””
Ethan looked scared.
“They searched everything.””
“What did they take?””
“My grandma’s things.””
“Did they hurt you?””
The boy shook his head quickly.
“No.””
Then he whispered.
“But they were looking for something.””
Sophia leaned forward.
“What?””
Ethan reached into his jacket again.
This time he pulled out a tiny metal key.
“My grandma gave me this before she died.””
Sophia stared at it.
“What does it open?””
“I don’t know.””
“Why didn’t you give it to those men?””
Ethan looked confused.
“Because she told me not to.””
“What did she say?””
The boy looked at the key.
Then quietly repeated:
“She said, ‘If they find the key, they’ll find the truth.’”
A cold feeling moved through Sophia.
Before she could respond, her phone rang.
She looked at the screen.
Unknown number.
Her first instinct was to ignore it.
Then she remembered Daniel.
She answered.
“Hello?””
Silence.
Then a distorted voice.
“Did he find you?””
Sophia stood immediately.
“Who is this?””
“You should have left the past buried.””
Her grip tightened around the phone.
“Where is Daniel Cross?””
A quiet laugh.
“You still think Daniel was the person in control?””
Sophia felt her heartbeat increase.
“Who are you?””
The voice became colder.
“The person who saved you from knowing the truth.””
Sophia looked at Ethan.
The boy was watching her carefully.
“Listen to me,” she said.
“If you know anything about my son—”
“Your son?””
The stranger interrupted.
“You still don’t understand.””
Sophia’s face hardened.
“Explain.””
A pause.
Then:
“Ten years ago, you gave birth to two babies.””
The room went silent.
Sophia stopped breathing.
“No.””
“You were told one child died.””
Her fingers went numb.
“No.””
“But the truth is…”
The voice lowered.
“One baby was taken.””
Sophia looked at Ethan.
“And the other was hidden.””
The call ended.
She stood frozen.
The phone slipped slightly in her hand.
Ethan looked up at her.
“Mom?””
She didn’t answer.
Because suddenly, every memory she had of that night came back differently.
The hospital.
The doctors.
The missing records.
The strange phone calls after her baby’s death.
The people who told her not to ask questions.
Sophia slowly turned toward the hallway.
Her home suddenly felt unfamiliar.
Like someone else had been living inside her walls.
Then she noticed something.
A small envelope sitting on the table near the entrance.
She was certain it had not been there before.
Her name was written on it.
Not printed.
Handwritten.
The same handwriting as the hospital bracelet.
Sophia walked toward it slowly.
Ethan followed.
“What is it?””
Sophia didn’t answer.
She opened the envelope.
Inside was a photograph.
A hospital photograph.
Two newborn babies wrapped in white blankets.
One had a small blue bracelet.
The other had a small green bracelet.
On the back, someone had written:
*“One was yours. One was theirs.””*
And beneath that sentence was a name Sophia had not heard in ten years.
A name that made her entire body go cold.
May you like
*Liam Whitmore.*
Her missing son’s twin brother.
