Chapter 53 That Voice
ANNA'S POV
I stopped at the entrance to my office where my first patients waited, my hand resting briefly on the door handle. I took a slow breath, then quickly put on a face mask and adjusted my hair, making sure every strand sat perfectly in place. I straightened my lab dress too, smoothing out imaginary wrinkles like I needed the extra confidence.
Then I walked into the room.
“Good morning. I’m going to be the person administering this medication to you today. What are your names?” I said, my tone calm and professional, not even giving them a glance as my full focus stayed on the neatly arranged shelf behind my desk.
“My name is Bella, this is my mum.”
My hand froze mid-motion just as I was about to reach for a sealed medical pack on the shelf.
That voice.
I had heard that voice for years, through insults, mockery, entitlement, and complaints. It was a voice I never thought I would hear again, not here, not like this. On a normal day, I might have told myself it was a coincidence. Bella wasn’t exactly a rare name.
But there was no such thing as coincidence when life wanted to mock you.
I stayed still for a moment longer than necessary, my back still turned to them. My heart thumped once, hard and heavy, but my face remained composed beneath the mask. Slowly, carefully, I turned around.
My eyes landed on the two figures seated near my desk.
Bella.
And her mother.
My adopted stepsister and the woman who once called herself my mother.
They sat there like ghosts from a life I had buried five years ago. Bella looked thinner than I remembered, her skin dull and yellowish, though the sharpness in her eyes hadn’t faded at all. Her mother sat beside her, arms folded, her expression tight and impatient, exactly the same way she used to look at me whenever I inconvenienced her existence.
I walked closer to them slowly, my steps controlled, my gaze fixed on their faces like I was trying to confirm that what I was seeing was real.
I hadn’t seen them in five years.
I had almost forgotten them.
And yet here they were, sitting in my office, in my company, waiting for help from hands they once pushed away.
The same people who shut the door in my face when things became hard.
The same people who treated me like a burden, like trash, like I was something they picked up by mistake and couldn’t wait to throw away again.
“Do you think we have all day or something?” Bella snapped, her voice sharp enough to cut through the air.
Her words snapped me out of my thoughts.
I almost let out a scoff. Almost. Time clearly hadn’t changed her manners. Even sick, even desperate, Bella was still Bella.
But then something else hit me.
They hadn’t reacted.
There was no shock. No recognition. No widened eyes or stiffened posture. They were annoyed, not surprised.
They didn’t know it was me.
I stopped walking and realized why. The face mask covered more than half of my face, hiding the most obvious features. Still, I found it hard to believe. My face had been on the news. Interviews, photos, articles. Anyone paying the slightest attention would know who I was.
Unless they hadn’t paid attention at all.
Or unless they simply never cared enough.
“Hello, miss. Didn’t you hear my daughter, or do you have hearing problems?” Bella’s mother said harshly, her voice carrying the same superiority it always had.
Like mother, like daughter.
No manners. No respect. Just entitlement.
For a second, I wondered if they actually knew it was me and were deliberately speaking this way. But that thought faded quickly. If they knew they were sitting in front of Anna, the girl they discarded, the owner of the company they were begging for help from, they wouldn’t dare speak like this.
They would be ashamed to even be here.
So they didn’t know.
The realization settled quietly in my chest.
“I’d appreciate it if you spoke to me with a lot more respect,” I said, my tone cold, colder than I had planned.
The room seemed to shift slightly.
I wasn’t the same woman they could speak down to anymore. I wasn’t the girl who swallowed insults just to survive under their roof. This was my space, my office, my company.
Bella squeezed her brows together and squinted her eyes, leaning slightly forward like she was trying to see past the mask. Her gaze lingered on my face longer than before, studying me.
That confirmed it.
She didn’t know.
And honestly, I didn’t want her to find out, not now.
They would find out eventually. The truth had a way of surfacing. But I refused to let this moment be about revelation or reconciliation.
“Do I know you from somewhere?” Bella asked slowly.
Her mother turned to her in confusion. “What are you talking about?”
I didn’t miss the way Bella’s eyes stayed glued to my face.
“Do you know me from somewhere?” I replied calmly. “I’m wearing a mask. How exactly are you identifying me through that?” I asked, smoothly dodging her question.
Bella frowned. “Her brows look so familiar, Mom. Can’t you notice it?”
She leaned closer to her mother, whispering like I wasn’t standing right in front of them.
Her mother studied my face again, this time more carefully. Her eyes scanned me, searching for something — anything that would spark recognition.
I waited.
Seconds passed.
Then she leaned back with a small sigh.
“I’m sure we’re here for medication, not to play guessing games with faces,” her mother finally said, waving the thought away dismissively.
And that was it.
That single moment told me everything I needed to know.
She didn’t recognize me because she never truly saw me in the first place. No real mother forgets her child’s face, not even after years, not even when it’s partially hidden.
But I had never truly been her daughter.