“Alinochka… I need to have an honest talk with you. I feel my time is near. You must know the truth. Even if after this you hate me,” whispered Maria Viktorovna, tightly squeezing Alina’s hand.
Alina froze. “Alinochka”? Since she married her son, her mother-in-law had never called her anything but “childless scum,” “an unfit wife,” or “a homewrecker.” Never kindly. And now—a tender name, a tremor in her voice, tears in her eyes. Maybe death really makes a person face the truth? Perhaps, at the end, Maria Viktorovna was finally repentant.
Alina worked as a nurse in the very hospital where her mother-in-law was admitted with a severe heart attack. The chances of recovery were minimal—that’s what the doctors whispered. Alina hadn’t seen her ex-husband, Andrey, in years. Apparently, he hadn’t visited his mother, or their visits simply didn’t coincide. Alina didn’t care. After he left her, broke her heart and life, she didn’t want to hear his name.
It all started with the pregnancy. Alina dreamed of having a child, but her husband was cold. He complained they had no money, that family was a burden, that now he alone would have to support them both. She promised to work from home, not to be a burden, but he just shrugged her off. And his mother… Maria Viktorovna looked at her with contempt, hinting that Alina had “provoked the pregnancy to trap her son.”
When it was time to give birth, the doctors suddenly decided to perform a cesarean section—although there was no medical indication for it. Alina tried to call her mother-in-law, who was the head of the maternity ward. Maybe she could intervene? But Maria Viktorovna didn’t answer. After the operation, Alina was told: “The baby died in the womb.” It was like a knife to her heart. Her daughter—whom she had already mentally named Katyenka—was gone. That day, Alina stopped believing in the world, in justice, in love.
The marriage collapsed. Andrey blamed her for “poor health,” for “not being able to be a mother.” His mother supported him, deepening the pain. Eventually, they divorced, and Alina was declared the one to blame. She was left alone, with a broken heart and an emptiness inside.
And now Maria Viktorovna lay in the same hospital, needing care. Neither her son nor his new wife were there. Apparently, old age had made her unnecessary even to her own family.
“Don’t say that, Maria Viktorovna! You will definitely get better!” Alina tried to say, but she only weakly waved her hand.
“No… It’s over. You can feel it yourself. But you’re a kind woman. I was wrong not to support you. When I sided with my son… You need to know, Alinochka… The cesarean was not done without a reason.”
Alina’s heart stopped. She had always suspected something was wrong. But to hear it now…
“Your child… she didn’t die. She was switched. Your daughter… my granddaughter… was given up for adoption to a wealthy family.”
The world spun around her. Her ears rang, her legs gave way. Alina grabbed the edge of the bed to keep from falling. No longer was she looking at a sick woman—she was facing a person who had stolen the most sacred thing from her.
“Why?..” she managed to say, her voice trembling like a tight string.
“Andrey didn’t want children. You knew that… He was just starting his career. He was afraid the baby would interfere. That you would demand alimony if he left. That you would ‘drag him down.’ He persuaded me… I had to arrange everything. Make you believe the baby died. I agreed… for his future. I wanted him to become successful. And now… facing death… I see the guilt I carry. Will you be able to forgive me?”
“How could you?!” burst out Alina. Tears ran down her cheeks but she didn’t even feel them. “Where is she? Where is my daughter?” she asked, struggling to say each word. Pain gripped her chest like a vise.
“In the bedside table… there’s a notebook… On the first page—an address…” whispered the mother-in-law. “But, Alina… he is now a very influential man. He won’t give you the girl. He will protect his family at any cost…”
“We’ll see about that,” Alina answered through clenched teeth.
Her hands shook as she opened the bedside table and grabbed the notebook. Tearing out the page with the address, she spun around sharply and almost ran out of the room.
“Alina… forgive me…” came the hoarse voice behind her.
“God will forgive,” she threw back without looking.
She could no longer stay near that person. The one who had taken a part of her soul, destroyed her life. Only one thought pulsed in her mind—to see her daughter. Five and a half years old! She must be so big now… Alive… Tears welled up again, but Alina wiped them away and almost ran toward the management office.
She said something about an urgent matter, not even remembering exactly how she explained her departure. The journey to the given address passed like in a fog. And now she stood by the gates of a huge mansion, realizing that she couldn’t just walk in and take the child.
Gradually it dawned on her that this would be a shock for the girl herself. She was already used to another life, another mother… But at least to see her… even just a glimpse…
A man met her on the porch. He was stately, good-looking, but his eyes held a cold emptiness. From somewhere deep inside the yard came the laughter of a child, and Alina’s heart clenched. It longed to be there, with her daughter…
“Are you here to apply as a nanny?” the man asked, sizing her up.
“A nanny?” Alina repeated, not taking her eyes off the yard where the child’s voice came from.
“Isn’t that right?” he frowned slightly.
“Sergey?” Alina asked quietly, and the man nodded. “I didn’t come as a nanny… I came for my daughter…” Sergey suddenly went pale. His face tightened, his jaw muscles tensed. He looked at her as if wanting to crush, to destroy. But Alina did not step back. “It’s a long story… Please, hear me out…” she began, tears streaming down her face, but she did not stop.
She told everything: how her husband, the closest person to her, persuaded his mother to get rid of the child, how she was deceived into believing the daughter had died. “I didn’t know… I thought she was gone… I was so scared… And now…”
“I won’t give you your daughter,” Sergey abruptly interrupted. “She is all I have. Katyenka is my life.”
Katyenka…
Alina wept even harder. That was exactly the name she wanted to give her daughter. Her legs gave way, but she held on. She didn’t know what to do next. Sergey could have thrown her out, called security, the police… But he was silent, listening.
“Come inside,” he finally said. “I’ll make you some tea and tell you my story…”
Alina nodded, though her heart was breaking to go where her daughter was. She wanted to see her, even just briefly.
Inside the house, a wave of sadness overwhelmed her. She realized she could never give her daughter such luxury. Her clothes, her life—it was all so far from that world. From the corner of her eye, Alina noticed dollhouses, exquisite toys. This must be Katya’s playroom. In the kitchen, over a cup of tea, Sergey began his story.
“My wife was infertile. We dreamed of having a child, and then one day, the maternity hospital called. They said there was a little girl whose mother had abandoned her. We didn’t hesitate. We started the paperwork immediately.
Our house was filled with happiness. We became parents. And when Katyenka turned three, my wife died. A heart attack. It was like a thunderbolt out of a clear sky. I still can’t come to terms with it, though two and a half years have passed. Katya keeps asking when her mom will come back from heaven. It hurts… She’s waiting for her mother—but not for you…”
Alina could no longer stay near that person—the one who had taken a part of her soul, destroyed her life. Only one thought pulsed in her mind—to see her daughter. Five and a half years old! She must be so big now… Alive… Tears welled up again, but Alina wiped them away and almost ran toward the management office.
She said something about an urgent matter, not even remembering exactly how she explained her departure. The journey to the given address passed like in a fog. And now she stood by the gates of a huge mansion, realizing that she couldn’t just walk in and take the child.
Gradually it dawned on her that this would be a shock for the girl herself. She was already used to another life, another mother… But at least to see her… even just a glimpse…
A man met her on the porch. He was stately, good-looking, but his eyes held a cold emptiness. From somewhere deep inside the yard came the laughter of a child, and Alina’s heart clenched. It longed to be there, with her daughter…
“Are you here to apply as a nanny?” the man asked, sizing her up.
“A nanny?” Alina repeated, not taking her eyes off the yard where the child’s voice came from.
“Isn’t that right?” he frowned slightly.
“Sergey?” Alina asked quietly, and the man nodded. “I didn’t come as a nanny… I came for my daughter…” Sergey suddenly went pale. His face tightened, his jaw muscles tensed. He looked at her as if wanting to crush, to destroy. But Alina did not step back. “It’s a long story… Please, hear me out…” she began, tears streaming down her face, but she did not stop.
She told everything: how her husband, the closest person to her, persuaded his mother to get rid of the child, how she was deceived into believing the daughter had died. “I didn’t know… I thought she was gone… I was so scared… And now…”
“I won’t give you your daughter,” Sergey abruptly interrupted. “She is all I have. Katyenka is my life.”
Katyenka…
Alina wept even harder. That was exactly the name she wanted to give her daughter. Her legs gave way, but she held on. She didn’t know what to do next. Sergey could have thrown her out, called security, the police… But he was silent, listening.
“Come inside,” he finally said. “I’ll make you some tea and tell you my story…”
Alina nodded, though her heart was breaking to go where her daughter was. She wanted to see her, even just briefly.
Inside the house, a wave of sadness overwhelmed her. She realized she could never give her daughter such luxury. Her clothes, her life—it was all so far from that world. From the corner of her eye, Alina noticed dollhouses, exquisite toys. This must be Katya’s playroom. In the kitchen, over a cup of tea, Sergey began his story.
“My wife was infertile. We dreamed of having a child, and then one day, the maternity hospital called. They said there was a little girl whose mother had abandoned her. We didn’t hesitate. We started the paperwork immediately.
Our house was filled with happiness. We became parents. And when Katyenka turned three, my wife died. A heart attack. It was like a thunderbolt out of a clear sky. I still can’t come to terms with it, though two and a half years have passed. Katya keeps asking when her mom will come back from heaven. It hurts… She’s waiting for her mother—but not for you…”
And now, the final part:
Her heart torn apart, Alina set down the cup and stood up. Through the frosted kitchen window, she saw the little girl. It was her. Her daughter. Her mirror image. Alina barely restrained herself from rushing to her. But she couldn’t. She couldn’t shock the child. Katya loves her father.
“You said you needed a nanny,” Alina said firmly.
“A nanny, but not you,” Sergey shook his head. “You won’t be able to control yourself. I can’t trust you. What if you decide to steal her?”
“Steal? No! I swear! No!” Alina almost shouted. “I came to take her, but now I understand she has her own life. I don’t want to break her psyche, but please… Let me be near her. Let me be her nanny!”
“I’ll give you an answer in two days,” Sergey replied dryly.
Those two days were torture for Alina. She barely restrained herself from going to the police, from demanding her daughter back. But she understood: that wasn’t the way. She had to be wiser. For Katyenka.
Two days later Sergey called. His voice was calm, but tense. He said he was willing to compromise, but only on certain conditions. Alina had to sign a contract promising never to tell Katya that she was her mother. Also, she had to undergo counseling with a psychologist and take a DNA test. Only after that would Sergey agree to hire her as a nanny. Alina agreed to everything without hesitation. She knew without tests that Katya was her daughter. The girl was her exact copy. But Sergey needed proof, formalities, to be sure he wasn’t mistaken.
When the DNA results confirmed the relationship and the psychologist certified that Alina could control her emotions, Sergey handed her the contract. She didn’t even read it—signed without a second thought. That same day, Sergey introduced Katya to her new nanny. That moment became the happiest in Alina’s life. At first, Sergey allowed her to work two days on, two days off, but after a month insisted she quit her hospital job and move in with them.
“Katya really likes you,” he said. “She’s drawn to you. You’ll be with her all the time. It’s better for her.”
Alina even refused to take money for work, but Sergey insisted, citing the contract. She cleaned the house, cooked, did laundry, and spent almost all her time with Katya. Every time the girl smiled at her, Alina felt her heart tear with love. But she held back, not allowing herself to do too much. She couldn’t call her “my daughter,” couldn’t hug her the way she wanted.
Eight months passed. Sergey gradually began to thaw. He saw how Alina cared for Katya, how sincerely she loved her, and realized she would never take his child away. His heart started to reach out to this woman who had endured so much. He began talking with her more often, inviting her on walks in the garden. They found common topics, shared thoughts. Unnoticed by himself, Sergey began to feel warm feelings for Alina. But he didn’t know how she would react to his confession.
Alina’s birthday came. Sergey acted all day as if unaware of the occasion. But in the evening, he and Katya prepared a surprise for her. They invited her for tea and cake, and the girl, blushing, handed Alina a small box with a bow.
“Daddy told me the truth,” Katya said softly, lowering her eyes. “You’re my mommy who came down to us from heaven.”
Alina froze. Her heart pounded so fiercely she could barely breathe. Tears ran down her cheeks. She looked at Sergey, who only smiled, slightly raising the corners of his mouth.
“But mommy and daddy have to be married, right?” Katya continued, looking up at Alina with big eyes. “Daddy wants to marry you! Will you say yes, mommy?”
Alina couldn’t hold back her tears. She pressed her daughter to herself, inhaling her child’s scent, kissing her hair, hugging her again and again. Katya seemed the most precious treasure in the world.
“I love you,” whispered the girl, smiling. “Thank you for coming down to us. But you haven’t answered yet… Will you marry daddy?”
“Katya,” Sergey said lightly reproachful, “we rehearsed—‘marry daddy,’ not ‘get married.’”
Alina laughed. Sergey and Katya joined in. At that moment, she felt her heart overflow with happiness.
“I will,” she said, smiling through tears. “Of course, I will.”
Sergey joined their embrace, holding both his little princess and the woman who had become more than just a nanny—a part of their family. In that moment, Alina knew her life had finally found meaning.
