Pregnant and Abandoned, I Returned as a Hidden Heiress

ANNA'S POV

For a moment, my whole mind just stopped working. I stared at the woman standing in front of me like she had completely lost her mind.

From what she just said, there's every reason to believe she's crazy.

I didn't even realize when a short, hard laugh escaped my lips. It came out louder than I meant it to, echoing through the room like something sharp and broken. I bent slightly, pressing a hand to my stomach instinctively because of the small injury there. The movement made me wince, but somehow, I still kept laughing.

It was ridiculous.

After everything that happened to me yesterday, laughing should be the very last thing I was capable of. I had been thrown out into the cold, bleeding, humiliated, left to die on the street like I didn't matter. Now, this woman was standing in front of me, telling me she was my mother?

"You don't believe what I just said, do you?" she asked softly.

My laughter slowly faded, my voice trailing off into a shaky breath. I expected her to smile, to join in, to admit this was some twisted misunderstanding. But she didn't. She just sat there, calm and composed, staring at me with those soft, almost sorrowful eyes.

That frightened me more than anything.

"You couldn't even do proper research if you were going to kidnap me!" I snapped suddenly, my tone rising without warning as I shot to my feet. My voice, which had been filled with confusion and a bit of fear moments ago, was now cracking with anger.

Her brows drew together slightly. "Kidnap?" she repeated, raising an eyebrow, genuinely confused.

"You heard me right!" I fired back. "You don't realize what you just did is kidnapping? You brought me here against my will, and your men downstairs won't let me leave. In case you don't know, that's exactly what kidnapping means, miss."

I folded my arms, my whole body trembling with a mixture of anger and disbelief.

"I didn't kidnap you, Anna," she said quietly, her tone steady, almost soothing. "I saved you. You were in a terrible condition. You were bleeding and barely conscious. What kind of person would I be if I left you there, especially on the very first day I found you.... Thankfully the family doctor said you were going to be alright"

Her words hit something in me, but I didn't want to let them sink in. I shook my head quickly, stepping back. "I have a mother who could've done that for me!" I shouted, cutting her off.

Her expression didn't change. Only her eyes flickered, a faint pain crossing them.

"Whoever you think is your mother, my child, isn't," she said gently. "I am your real mother. I carried you for nine months. I wouldn't lie to you and I know you can see it too."

Her hand lifted slowly, almost trembling, as if she wanted to touch mine, but I pulled back immediately. My reaction was sharp, defensive, almost instinctive.

"So you just want me to abandon my family? The people I've known for years?" I snapped, still angry, my brows furrowing tightly. "You think I'll just believe some stranger who claims she's my mother? That's insane!"

She sighed deeply, but her voice stayed calm - too calm. "You might have grown up with those people," she said, "and you might call them family because your father made you believe so. But they are not your true family, Anna. I am."

Something in her tone made me pause.

It wasn't her calmness or her confidence,  it was the way she said "your father."

The word hit me like a tiny spark, freezing me mid-sentence. My mouth stayed slightly open, but no sound came out.

Your father.

So does that mean she really knows him?

The image of the photograph flashed in my mind, the one I saw earlier. A young version of me standing beside my father and a younger version of this same woman.

At first, I told myself it could've been photoshopped. This was the modern world where people could create anything, make anyone look like family if they wanted to. All it took was the right connection, the right technology, and a little imagination.

But something about that photo... the way it looked so old, the faded edges of the frame, the slight yellow tint to the picture, it didn't look fake. It looked real. Like it had been taken years ago.

My stomach twisted. If she truly knew my father, could she be telling the truth?

The resemblance between us was undeniable - the same eyes, the same lips, the same line of the jaw. Even the shape of our faces matched. I had noticed it before but refused to accept it.

Now I couldn't ignore it.

I let out a slow breath, my gaze drifting down to the polished floor. My anger started to calm, little by little, though I still wasn't ready to admit anything.

For the first time since she said those words, I wasn't thinking about shouting or running. I was thinking about everything that didn't make sense in my life.

Have I been living with the wrong people all these years?

It wasn't the first time I'd questioned it, honestly. There had been moments when I'd looked at my so-called mother and wondered why her affection felt so forced. Why she seemed to favor my sister, Bella, so openly? Why sometimes, when I was alone, I felt like I didn't belong in that house at all.

Is that woman I've called "mother" all my life really my mother?

Is Bella really my sister?

Because they sure didn't behave like it.

Those thoughts swirled in my head, uninvited and loud. The same questions I had buried before were clawing their way back now, refusing to stay quiet.

A strange feeling crept over me - not quite fear, not quite hope, but something restless in between. I wanted to know the truth. Desperately.

For the first time, I felt an urge I couldn't push away. I needed to find out if what this woman said was real.

In those few seconds, I pushed my anger aside and thought about everything clearly. As impossible as it sounded, there was a small, unsettling possibility that she might be right.

But I wasn't going to just accept her word. She could still be lying, playing some twisted game.

I needed proof.

And I knew exactly how to get it.

I would go to my mother's house, the woman who raised me, the one who threw me out just yesterday. I didn't care how angry she was, or that she didn't want to see me again. She had no choice but to listen this time.

Once I told her that another woman was claiming to be my mother, she would react. Maybe she would be furious at this woman, but she would fight for me.

She would have to.

I was sure of it.

I lifted my head again and looked at the woman standing in front of me. Her eyes softened when mine met hers, but I didn't let that shake me.

I wasn't a helpless girl anymore. Not after everything that happened.

I was determined now - determined to find out the truth, no matter what it turned out to be.