CHAPTER 3 #2
But there was something about her that seemed off.
A tightness around her eyes, a subtle tension in her shoulders.
And when she stood to greet me, I caught her steadying herself briefly against her chair.
As I got closer, I noticed a small cough she tried to suppress, and the discreet way she palmed what looked like a pill from a small silver case on her desk.
"Princess Bettina," she said, and her voice carried the kind of authority that came from decades of being listened to without question. "Welcome home."
"Grand Duchess," I replied, attempting what I hoped was an appropriate curtsy and probably looking like I was trying to dislodge something from my shoe. Or possibly having a small medical emergency. Curtsying was harder than it looked.
She gestured for me to sit in the chair across from her desk, which was covered with documents that looked important and slightly ominous.
"I suppose you have questions."
"Just a few. Like who I am, why I'm here, and what happened to my birth parents? Also why does everyone keeps looking at me like I'm a puzzle they're trying to solve? And whether there's any chance I could get more coffee? Because I think jet lag is starting to hit."
She rang a small silver bell, and a servant came in bearing a large tray full of little sandwiches and tiny desserts. Another servant followed with a teapot and refilled the Duchess’ cup before handing me my own cup and saucer.
I sniffed suspiciously. It smelled like a quality Assam blend. It would do in a pinch.
"Your mother’s name was Catherine and your father’s name was Philippe. They died when you were six months old." The Duchess said after we’d been served some refreshments and the servants left us alone in uncomfortable silence.
Wait. That didn't match what Captain Steiner had told me.
"Captain Steiner said I was kidnapped when I was eighteen months old."
"You were. But your parents died six months before that.
" The Grand Duchess reached for a tissue and dabbed at her eyes, and I noticed her hand shaking slightly.
She paused to take another discreet pill, washing it down with water from a crystal glass.
"Catherine and Philippe were killed in a car accident.”
“Was it foul play?” I asked, my mind racing with plots and conspiracies.
She shook her head. “No. We don’t believe so. Phillipe was driving too fast as he was wont to do. And since you weren’t in the car with them, I suppose he felt he could take riskier chances.”
That was so sad.
“After the accident, you came to live with me, and you were kidnapped from the palace gardens eight months later during a party.
" Her voice broke then. "I should have been watching you that day, but I was in emergency session with the defense minister.
There had been threats from a separatist group, and we were coordinating security responses.
By the time I realized you weren't with your nanny.
.." She pressed her hand to her chest, breathing carefully.
"We searched everywhere, but you were gone.
We waited for a ransom request. But it never came. "
My brain was starting to short-circuit from information overload. I needed a flowchart. Or possibly a whole presentation with slides.
"So you're my grandmother."
"Yes."
"And you've been looking for me for twenty years."
"Every single day." Her voice broke slightly. "The investigation consumed this country's resources for years. The security team, the police, Interpol. There was no trace of you anywhere."
"No one saw anything?"
"No. You simply vanished. We investigated separatist groups for years.
Interrogated every member we could find, followed every lead.
But whoever actually took you knew how to disappear.
The separatists claimed responsibility initially, then retracted it, then went underground.
" She shook her head. "Twenty years of searching, and all we have are dead ends and cold trails.”
“How did you find me?”
“Tik Tok.”
I blinked. “I beg your pardon?”
She pulled out a photo album and turned to a page of pictures of the same woman. She looked exactly like me. Same hair, same eyes, same slightly stubborn jawline that Dad always said would get me in trouble someday.
“That’s your mother, Catherine.”
“Catherine,” I breathed and touched the picture of the stranger with my face.
“I’ve never stopped looking for you and with the advancements in technology, social media and facial recognition, the security team found this.”
With shaking hands, she pulled out a phone and played a video.
It was during karaoke night at the coffee shop last week.
I was very badly singing Wonderwall by Oasis.
Derek must have posted it. Without my permission, I might add.
I hadn’t seen it yet. Or I would have pitched a fit until he had taken it down.
“You had a whole security team looking for me? All these years?”
“Yes. When they found this, I tried not to get my hopes up. I sent Mireille and Dominic to investigate.”
“Who?”
“Captain Steiner and Lieutenant Commander Vasseur.”
“Right. Them.”
“And it was you. My own Bettina. Once lost. Now found.” The Grand Duchess turned a few pages in the album to a wedding spread. Catherine stood next to a tall man with kind eyes and dark hair.
"That’s your father Philippe.”
I stared at the photo, trying to feel some connection to these people who'd given me life but never had the chance to give me anything else. They looked happy. Young. Completely unaware that they wouldn’t have long life together.
It was so sad.
"They were wonderful people. Catherine was brilliant.
She spoke six languages and had degrees in both political science and economics.
Philippe was a diplomat who genuinely cared about making the world a better place.
" She paused, and when she continued, her voice was thick with emotion.
"They would have been such good parents to you. "
"I wish I could have known them," I said.
Guilt gnawed at me for not feeling more.
These people had loved me, had probably been excited about watching me grow up.
But they were strangers to me. Bob and Linda Montclair were the ones who'd taught me to ride a bike and helped me with homework and stayed up all night when I had the flu.
They were the ones who'd pretended to enjoy my yo-yo performances.
"So do I."
In fact, Mom and Dad were probably worried sick. Their daughter was a long lost princess. She was being whisked off to another country. And their mortgage was paid off. That was a lot to take in.
“Were you ...” The Grand Duchess cleared her throat, “treated well by your adopted parents? I’ve heard such terrible stories about foster children being abused.”
I was already shaking my head. “It wasn’t like that. I knew I was adopted, but I never felt like I was anything but their daughter. They loved me unconditionally, supported every crazy dream I'd ever had.”
“Did they?” The Grand Duchess eyes narrowed in suspicion. “This Bob and Linda Montclair. What are their politics like?”
“Politics? Uh Democrat.”
She gave me a mirthless smile. “What about on the world stage?”
“Uh...” I said again. “My dad likes Arsenal. Even though he calls it soccer instead of football.”
“I mean, do they have ties to Valdoria?”
“No. In fact we’ve never heard of the country until today.”
“I see.” But she didn’t sound convinced. “We looked into their background and they did honeymoon in France. And spent their first anniversary in Switzerland.”
Valdoria was between those two countries. “That’s just a coincidence.”
“I’ve found that there isn’t such a thing as coincidences.”
“It was a coincidence that you saw me on TikTok.” The idea that she might think my parents were somehow connected to my kidnapping was insane.
“I think that was more luck than anything else.”
"My parents are good people. They had no idea about any of this."
"I'm sure your adopted parents are," she said, though her tone suggested she wasn't entirely convinced. "The important thing is that you're here now.”
"Yes." I pulled out my phone, the international one Captain Steiner had given me on the plane. “I should call them and them know I'm okay."
"Of course." She stood up from her desk and moved to give me a bit of privacy as she put her dish and cup on the tray the servant left.
I dialed my parents’ number and my father answered on the first ring.
"Are you all right? We've been worried sick."
"I'm fine, Dad. I'm in Valdoria. It's... a lot. There's a palace. And chandeliers. So many chandeliers."
"I can imagine. Listen, honey, your mom and I have been making some calls. We're trying to get your adoption records unsealed so we can figure out exactly what happened twenty years ago."
"You don't need to do that."
"Yes, we do. If there's any chance that we were unknowing participants in something illegal, we need to know. I want you to understand, we got you through a legitimate agency. We have all the paperwork. Everything was legal on our end."
I could hear my mom in the background, asking if I needed anything sent from home. Normal parent concerns that made me homesick for a life I'd left behind twelve hours ago.
"I love you both," I said. "This is all insane, but I love you."
"We love you too, sweetheart. And no matter what anyone tells you about your birth family, you're our daughter. Nothing changes that."
I ended the call and looked up to find the Grand Duchess watching me with an unreadable expression.
"They seem lovely," she said.
"They are."
"I'm glad you had people who cared for you. Who gave you a good life." She returned to her chair, moving slowly and carefully. "I wish things in Valdoria were more stable right now."
"Yeah I heard something about NATO and Putin on the plane. That’s never a good combination."