Chapter 65

A short time later, we are in front of her building. It’s night, and the clouds completely obscure the stars. To me, it’s a strong omen that the night will be tense. We head up to the apartment, and I press the doorbell. In seconds, Liana opens the door, her face turns pale, her lips press together, and her eyes widen. She tries to speak but stammers, becoming anxious. She quickly regains her composure and finally manages to complete her sentence.

"What are you doing here, Gerald?"

I push the door open, and we step inside.

Liana stands still, her hands pressed against her body, her gaze fixed on anything other than our faces.

"I want to understand why you didn’t show up at the hospital, but first, we’ll go back 18 years to finally clarify things. Why did you abandon your daughter? I offered professional help. There was no lack of emotional support, and even my mother, who was alive at the time, gave up everything to help you."

"I… I…"

She takes a few steps back, showing insecurity.

"I have nothing to say, it’s in the past, it was so long ago, why bring it up now?"

"You will speak!" Gerald shouts, raising his voice. "I won’t leave until you tell me the truth. How long will you keep pretending that you love her? I’m tired of your pathetic excuses. Only I know what it was like all these years. Do you know what it’s like to spend so many nights, putting her to sleep while day after day the only question she asked me was why her mother left? Or all the times I left her alone on her birthday because you shut yourself out, or when she asked me if it was her fault you left?"

He takes a deep breath, his voice faltering, but he swallows the anguish to continue.

"Many times I asked my coworkers what to do, how to talk to Clayre in a way that her mother would. I was tired of saying that you had to work far away so she could have everything she wanted, but of course, she grew up and realized I was lying."

Liana freezes, tears form in her eyes, and her hands come together in front of her body.

I sit on the sofa because I know this is a conversation just for them, something that needs to be cleared up not only with Clayre but between the two of them.

"Speak, tell me what was more important in your life than spending hours with your daughter? Didn’t you feel anything while living it up and she cried, coming up with a thousand and one reasons for you to disappear?"

Liana breaks down in tears, her hands covering her face as she shakes her head emphatically.

"Speak, own up, and admit the kind of mother you are."

Out of control, she rubs her eyes, trying to contain her tears, and for the first time, I see pain—a pain so immense, one I’ve never witnessed before.

Her gaze becomes pleading, dark, and desperate.

"It wasn’t easy for me to leave her. The truth is, I couldn’t look at her. I tried to be Clayre’s mother, but how could I be a mother to a baby who was never really mine? I hate her because she reminds me of my worst side, of when I was a monster, and I hate her even more for coming back to steal my life."

***

POV Liana

"That Clayre, she was never my daughter!"

Eighteen years ago, when Clayre was born, everything changed. I was in love when I gave myself to Gerard, and it led to the frustration of becoming pregnant. I was starting my real life, and that was the end of my world and all my dreams. A month before the birth, I started having horrible nightmares, and I became insecure. My mother-in-law started coming to see us every day, and every time she said she would help, I felt like she was going to take my daughter. I remember spending sleepless nights, crying a lot, and sometimes secretly pulling out tufts of my hair. For the first time, the pain exudes, speaking for me, ready to confess the dark and rotten side of me that has shaped me all this time.

Gerald’s expression becomes too painful, his eyes fill with tears, and his hand rushes to his face, trying to understand what I’m saying. His breathing becomes faster, and his eyes fix on me, waiting for answers. I’ve reached a dead end, and I’ll have to reveal everything. With this test of Clayre’s, the truth would come out anyway. I don’t have the gene for the disease, I can’t save her, and I wouldn’t want to. For me, she could die.

"What did you say? How could she never have been yours? How could she not be, damn it? She came out of your womb; she was inside you for nine months. It was days of love, preparing to welcome our daughter. What the hell are you saying? Speak up, damn it. How is she not yours?"

I shake my head emphatically in disbelief.

"No… no… she wasn’t."

Furious, he approaches, grabs my shoulders, and shakes me in disbelief.

My whole body trembles from his disproportionate strength, and with anger, I will tell the truth. I’m tired of carrying this burden, of seeing him defend a fake daughter.

"Damn it! Speak up, what did you do?"

My chest hurts massively, my legs weaken, and like a dark cloud, the past devours me. I’m taken back to that macabre day when I destroyed Liana, who was once good, ambitious, yet still kind. When I held my daughter in my arms the day after the birth, all that emanated from my body was despair. I didn’t want her, I never accepted that I would be a mother, and despite everything, my heart loved her with all the strength of my being. Yes, looking into her small, innocent eyes, the details of her face that looked like an angel, filled me with love, but my heart was black, filled with a demonic filth. That was the power of depression, making everything lose its shine and bringing my own demons to life. My mind was corroded by fear, everything was chaotic, and the sharp pain that perpetuated in my head stopped me from thinking clearly.

"I wanted to hide from the sharp crying that wouldn’t stop, from my inability to care for that child. I was terrified, overwhelmed by depression. Do you remember the day after the birth, when you went out for coffee, and I was trying to breastfeed her?"

He just nods his head, confirming.

"I placed our fragile little baby in my lap and couldn’t control myself."

I fill my lungs, trying to control the emotions that contradict me.

"I felt like I was alone in a room with that sound, going back and forth, destroying every fragment of my mind. I closed my eyes and began to beg. I just asked her to stop, to let me think. I don’t know why I did that. I swear."

I beg, crying—a real pain, the only one that makes me feel something, because for everything else, I feel nothing.

"I remember holding the pillow and putting it over her, but I didn’t want to hurt her. I just wanted her to stop crying. I just wanted peace, and then I pressed it, not calculating my strength, suffocating the sound. And when everything went silent, I felt relief. I cried, I felt the air return to my lungs, and I pulled her to my body, but she wasn’t breathing anymore. She wasn’t moving, and in desperation, I got up from the bed. The man in the next bed tried to bring her back to life, but he couldn’t."

"Oh my God, what kind of monster are you… I…"

Gerald turns his back, avoiding looking at me.

Tears stream from his eyes as he desperately covers his face. Jack remains in shock, and I need to finish, I need him to understand that I loved our daughter, but what happened can no longer be changed. She’s dead. I moved on with my life. I didn’t want to return to this subject. The pain was real, but today, it’s different. I feel nothing.

"In that moment of despair, the man looked at me desolately. He seemed as confused as I was. His wife a step from death, with a 10-year-old child to take care of, hopeless, in fact, he was afraid of being a father alone and not being able to handle it. He offered me an out—his daughter.

Of course, I’ll leave out the part where I suggested taking her and manipulated him through his pain. I remind you that the agreement was that he would still have contact with the child, but when I left the hospital, I convinced Gerald to leave Miami. The man could ruin my life if he revealed anything. Going to Charleston was a matter of necessity. I was terrified because after what I did, I could be arrested. And that, never."

I clear my throat and continue.

"The man said he understood my despair and that the daughter wouldn’t have a mother, but if I wanted, we could switch the children. I accepted his offer. I was devastated, scared, and I accepted. Today, I know the man was out of his mind with grief, and I also know that I had a postpartum psychotic reaction. I was out of my mind."

Gerald stands up from the sofa. His look of abomination contrasts with his face, red from intense crying. He wants to speak, but he can’t. The pain he feels is the same as the pain I felt when I realized I had truly lost my daughter.

"I swapped the babies’ clothes. No one suspected because his wife was debilitated, the child was overdue and could have sequels or die. The two babies were similar, even the color of their hair. Gerald, I swear to you, today, without depression, after a long time of treatment, I regret never telling the truth, but I was afraid you would never forgive me. You saw that new child as a daughter, and you protected and cared for her so lovingly that I swallowed everything, locked it in a room at the back of my mind and my heart."

I pause for a few seconds, trying to wipe away the tears I’ve shed with trembling hands.

"I would never be able to save this Clayre. Let alone receive your forgiveness because I hate her so much that I can’t even hide the dark part of me when I’m facing her. That part lives with me every day, disturbing my dreams, reliving the pain I felt, and never letting me forget the woman who was capable of killing her own daughter in her arms."

Gerald stumbles backward, collapsing onto the sofa beside Jack, exhausted.