Katrina pov
I stared at the frail woman lying in the center of the crisp, white hospital sheets. She looked so small under the heavy blankets, almost swallowed up by the immense clinical bed. Her skin was translucent, like aged parchment paper, showing the faint blue tracings of her veins beneath. Her breathing was nothing more than a shallow, mechanical whisper, keeping time with the soft, rhythmic hum and beep of the monitors surrounding her bedside.
My mind was spinning at a dizzying pace, trying desperately to piece together the fractured mosaic of the truth I had just uncovered. It felt like the ground beneath my feet had suddenly liquefied, leaving me reaching for an anchor in a sea of family secrets.
*So, Mrs. Anna is not my husband's biological mother,* I thought to myself, the
