A DNA test confirmed the truth: the girl wasn’t his. Another man might have raised her as his own, but Edward’s pride wouldn’t allow it. He raged at Clara’s memory, wishing he could confront her for her deception. But she was gone. The girl was sent to an orphanage in suburban Chicago, and thus began Anna’s long, painful journey.
Life showed her no mercy. She was shuffled between orphanages—Joliet, Aurora, then another small town. The settings changed, but the story stayed the same: gray walls, indifferent faces, a world that didn’t care.
She landed in Ohio by chance, transferred when an Illinois orphanage underwent reorganization. Fate’s bitter irony, nothing less.
“Where will you go after you’re discharged?” Victor asked, unable to shake his concern for Anna’s fate. Her story had cemented his suspicion: this young woman was his daughter. Such coincidences didn’t just happen—they were woven by something greater.
But he needed certainty. Not because he wouldn’t help a stranger—he’d support Anna regardless. Alone, homeless, with a newborn in her arms, she was a soul in need, and he couldn’t turn away. It wasn’t in him to ignore such suffering.
But for his own heart, he needed the truth. If Anna was his daughter, it would be a miracle, a gift beyond measure. The woman he’d loved had shattered him, choosing wealth over their life together. But a child was different. Victor’s world had grown gray, empty despite his success.
He admitted it to himself. He’d built an impressive career—chief physician, respected, pulling in $8,000 a month. But could that fill the void in his soul? Family was what he’d always craved, what he’d lost when Clara walked away.
Her betrayal had left a wound that never healed. Trusting another woman? Unthinkable. He’d been burned once, and he was certain fate would toss him into the same fire again. So he buried himself in work—saving lives, pouring every ounce of himself into his patients. It wasn’t just a calling; it was his salvation, a shield against memories and regret.
Home was just a place to collapse, too drained for anything else. Years passed in a blur, and he’d resigned himself to a solitary life. But a daughter—and a grandson? That could be his light in the darkness, his chance to know what family truly meant.
He’d give everything for them—every resource, every effort. “Nowhere to go,” Anna said softly, staring into the distance, her voice barely above a whisper. “No place to call home. I don’t know how I’ll survive with my son. They’ll probably take him away.”
“What kind of mother am I?” she continued, her voice breaking. “No home, no job, I can’t even feed him.”
“Nowhere?” Victor echoed, stunned. “You must have lived somewhere before this. If you came from an orphanage, the state should’ve provided housing. Didn’t they? Tell me everything—I’ll help, I swear it.”
Anna was utterly alone, grasping at any shred of hope to save her son. Why was this man, twice her age, a stranger who’d saved her by chance, so invested in her fate? She had no choice but to trust him. He was the only one who’d extended a hand, and so she poured out her story, raw and unfiltered, like a confession to a priest.
She told him how the state had given her a tiny room in a Dayton dorm—old, with peeling paint and a faint smell of mildew, but hers. Then came the scammers, slick real estate hustlers who preyed on orphans like her. They promised to trade her cramped room for a proper apartment, spinning tales of a better life. Forged documents, a few signatures, and she was left with nothing. She wasn’t alone—her dorm neighbors, fellow orphans, fell for the same lies, ending up on the streets.
“How did this happen?” Victor exclaimed, his voice thick with disbelief. “It’s the oldest trick in the book! Didn’t the orphanage teach you anything? Even a child could see through it!”
“As you can see,” Anna sighed, her eyes dropping to the floor. “I don’t blame them. We were naive, desperate for something better. I thought I was luckier than most—at least for a while.”
She recounted how she’d moved to Dayton, settled into that dingy room, and started building a life. She found work as a salesclerk in a small clothing store at the town’s main mall. That’s where she met Daniel, a customer shopping for jeans. He caught her eye instantly—tall, with a warm smile and dimples that made her heart skip.
The attraction was mutual. Anna thought it was love, straight out of a movie. How could she know he’d turn out to be a coward? When the scammers took her housing, she was left with nothing—no money, no family. She called Daniel, and he swooped in, taking her to his parents’ home in Cincinnati.
He introduced her to his mother, Evelyn Rose. Anna felt like an intruder, showing up with a single bag of belongings. They agreed she’d stay until her next paycheck, then find her own place. But living under the same roof with Daniel, sparks flew. How could they not? He was charming, attentive, and she believed he shared her dreams of a family, a future together. Evelyn treated her kindly, offering homemade pies and asking about her day, making Anna feel almost at home.
But the moment she told them she was pregnant, everything changed. Daniel and Evelyn exchanged looks as if she’d committed a crime. They began pressuring her to “take care of it.” Evelyn even found a contact at a private clinic, promising it would be quick, discreet, no questions asked.
“I couldn’t do it,” Anna whispered, her hands clenching into fists. “How could I live with myself? Killing my own child—it’s unthinkable!” She tried reasoning with Daniel, begging him to understand, but he brushed her off coldly: “I don’t need this.” When she refused an abortion, he threw her out, without a shred of remorse, leaving her in the clothes on her back.
The next morning, Evelyn dumped Anna’s belongings into the hallway, letting them scatter across the grimy floor. For nearly nine months, Anna survived on the streets. She was lucky to meet Aunt Ruth, a homeless woman who took her into a ramshackle hut on the city’s outskirts. Ruth had been on the streets for years, scraping by however she could. “If not for her, I’d have been finished,” Anna admitted, her voice thick with gratitude.
She tried registering at a women’s clinic to monitor her pregnancy, but they turned her away: “No ID, no service.” If not for the contractions hitting in the middle of the street near a bustling market, with strangers calling an ambulance, she might have given birth alone. Her labor began in front of a crowd, a public spectacle of pain and desperation.
Victor listened, his heart twisting with each word, tears threatening to spill. “My God,” he thought, “how has this girl endured so much? How did she survive?” The cruelty of her fate staggered him.
“After you’re discharged, you’re coming to my place,” he said firmly, his voice steady despite the storm inside him. “I’ve got a big apartment downtown—plenty of room for you and the little one.”
“How can I?” Anna protested, her eyes wide with disbelief. “Thank you for your kindness—there aren’t many like you—but think about it. Moving in with a stranger, with my baby? It’s not right.”