Diana sat in the back of the black patrol vehicle and watched as the world whizzed past, all colour masked by the dark tint of the side bullet proof windows. Everything appeared uniform in its drabness. Not even the style and grandeur of her gated community looked any better.

The car turned and pulled into the driveway, stopping just short of the house. She looked up at her house and exhaled, puffing out her lips. The effect of the mild sedative she'd been given was starting to wear off and an anxious knot had formed in the centre of her chest. The last few hours had been terrifying. Not able to relax for a second, she'd felt like a coiled spring being pulled from opposite sides, the tension threatening to snap her in two.

The assorted tests and interviews conducted, now seemed like one long blur. But she had pulled it off, successfully managing to say very little, except the rehearsed story they'd all agreed to. Fortunately for Diana, the person conducting the interview seemed largely disinterested in her. The man had actually termed her a "silly woman" and he hoped she'd learnt her lesson about traveling alone into Flawed areas and wasting the Councils time and resources. The counsellor woman had been a lot nicer, well that was until she refused to give Diana a prescription for more sedatives, saying that those types of medicines weren't really suited to those with addictive personalities. Diana had been too stunned to ask what she had meant by that. But when later asked by the same woman how many glasses of alcohol she drank a week on average, the raised eyebrow in response to her answer of two to three glasses told Diana all she needed to know. Somehow, someway they knew about her drinking and she was going to have to put a full stop to that in the morning. Right now though, the first thing she was going to do when she got inside was to open a bottle of red and consume the whole, bloody lot.

She climbed out of the car, thanked the driver and approached the front door with trepidation.

"Diana, darling, you're home,"

John stood at the door, his eyes red and tired, full of worry. The exhaustion she'd been ignoring overwhelmed her and she fell into his open arms. He kissed the top of her head a dozen times, whispering words of reassurance. It had been a long time since he'd shown her such affection and under normal circumstances, she would have been delighted, but right now the main reason she clung to him was in order to stay upright.

"Come inside, darling, Edward is waiting for you in the sitting room. We've been beside ourselves all day."

Diana stepped into the lobby and the temperature felt cooler than it did outside; she shivered. John gently tugged her arm and pulled her down the hallway and into the sitting room.

"Mother!"

Edward rushed to her and, wrapping himself around her tightly. "Where have you been, I've been worried sick."

"I know and I'm sorry I worried you."

"But you said you would never leave me. You said I was just as important to you as Hannah is."

"Oh, Edward, please not this again. How many times do I have to tell you how much we love you and that knowing about Hannah doesn't change that?"

"Your poor mother is worn out, let her sit down. If you carry on with anymore of that nonsense I will send you to your room," John warned.

"I'm eighteen; you can't send me to my room anymore."

"Really. Do you want to put that theory to the test, Edward?"

Edward sneered at his father and reluctantly let go of Diana, who made her way to the cream, leather sofa. She slumped down on it, kicking off her shoes. A fresh log crackled and spat on the hearth. The heat from the dancing flames wrapped around Diana. She leant back, closed her eyes and in an instant fell asleep.

"Diana...," a hand gently shook her shoulder, "Marta has warmed up some soup for you."

Diana opened her eyes, her brain frantically trying to work out where she was. The familiar meaty aroma of Marta's Veal Consommé wafted under her nose and her stomach gnawed in anticipation. She sat up, rubbing her eyes, apologising profusely to John for falling asleep.

"Don't apologise, you look exhausted. I've sent Edward off to do some school work to give you a break for a little while. Here, eat up." John passed her a tray.

Diana took the spoon and scooped up some of the clear, amber broth. Within minutes she'd devoured the lot and felt marginally better from the restorative effects of a full stomach and a little sleep.

John removed the tray and returned with a glass of red wine. She sipped at it cautiously, fighting the urge to swallow it down in two large mouthfuls.

"Are you up to talking about it?"

Diana nodded.

"What on earth happened?"

Diana sighed and carefully delivered the same story she had told the interviewer earlier. Not so satisfied with her responses, John questioned her in more detail- when did she know Hannah had gone, how did she know where to find her adoptive father, what happened when she was captured, had she been ill-treated, how where they rescued? The questions came thick and fast and Diana could only hope she sounded more convincing to John than she thought she did.

"And where is Hannah now?"

"General Briggs has decided for the time being she should remain with him under close guard."

John almost looked relieved. "I see. Well, that's probably for the best."

"No. No it isn't." Diana snapped, "she should be here with us, her parents."

John shook his head and looked over to the fire. "But we aren't her parents are we? Ever since she was returned to us, our lives have been on hold and it's been like living in a pressure cooker. She is moody, volatile, unappreciative and downright rude. She may have been scored wrongly at birth, Diana, and she may now have the highest score ever recorded but you and I know she is every bit as Flawed as the family she has come from. Sweetheart, we may be her biological parents, but that is as far as it will ever go."

Diana should have been surprised by his admission, but she wasn't. From the minute Hannah had walked through their front door, John had pulled away. Initially she put it down to guilt; that he was so ashamed they gave her up at birth he couldn't bring himself to be around her. But now, it was clear it went deeper than that. John had developed no parental feelings towards Hannah. .

"It's Edward I'm concerned for. He is our son and we should be focusing out attentions on him, not running around after that silly, petulant girl. He has always been such a sensitive boy, Diana, especially after we told him that we aren't his biological parents. That really upset him, but finding out about Hannah almost broke him. Did you know that he has some of those early surveillance pictures of Hannah in his room? He's defaced some and shredded the rest. I'm really concerned for him, Diana and I think it's vital you spend more time with him.

Diana jumped to her feet and rounded on him. "I should be the one spending more time with him, you say. What about you, John? Why don't you spend more time with your son? These days you're rarely ever home, you've missed most of his soccer games and you're always making light of his achievements at school. If you're so concerned for your son, why don't you start to be a bloody parent to him as well?"

Diana stormed out of the room leaving John staring open-mouthed after her. In nearly twenty years, this was the first time she'd ever argued back at him. She'd lost count of the times she had sucked up her anger and seethed in silence; after all, she was the dutiful, agreeable wife and always had been. Her easy compliance had lost her a daughter once before and she was dammed if she was going to lose her again, no matter what it cost her marriage.

She tapped lightly on Edward's bedroom door and entered. He lay on his bed, eyes closed, listening to music through a set of headphones. His unruly hair was splayed out across his pillow. He still looked like the baby she'd held in her arms while her heart broke for their absent daughter. For hours she would sit rocking him, trying anything to get him to go to sleep as fat, uncontrollable tears rolled down her face, dropping onto the baby she cradled. She loved Edward, with all her heart, but the problem was a big part of her heart had been missing from day one. As her baby was wheeled off down the corridor and into the arms of another couple, so a piece of her had left too. She'd tried to be a good mother, maybe tried too hard.

She approached him slowly and sat down on the edge of the bed. The mattress sunk a little alerting Edward to her presence. He opened his eyes which were red, his face blotchy.

"Edward, we need to talk, don't we?"

Edward nodded and lowered his eyes.

"For eighteen years, have I not loved you? Have I not done everything in my power to try and make you happy?

He nodded again.

"So why are you acting like this then?"

Edward brought his hand to his mouth and nibbled at the nail on his thumb.

"In the short time she's been here, what has Hannah actually done to you to make you hate her so much?"

He bit off a piece of hangnail and blew it onto the carpet. "She hasn't just turned up has she? She has always been here like a phantom, haunting this family. Do you know how difficult it was, growing up, knowing that I was your consolation prize."

"That's just not true, Edward. We were utterly devastated when we chose to demote Hannah, but we made that decision, just like we chose to adopt you. .

"Are you saying that if you hadn't got that infection after having Hannah and if you could have carried another baby, you would have still adopted me?"

Diana swallowed hard and it was her turn to avert her eyes. "How did you know about the infection?"

"I overheard you and Dad talking one evening. You were crying and looking at a photo of something. You kept saying that you had made a mistake and that you were being punished for it. Was I your punishment?"

Diana shook her head, unable to reply.

"I found the photo in your wardrobe a few days later. It was in a box with some small pink booties and a little bear. Do you know which picture I'm talking about?"

A tear slid down her cheek as she nodded.

"You'd written 'Our beautiful little girl' on the back of the hospital scan photo. I also read the letter inside the box too."

Diana, clasped her hand over her mouth, her whole body wracked now with quiet sobbing.

"The words in that letter are burned into my brain. You wrote about how sorry you were to give her up, how sorry you were for replacing her with a child who wasn't yours and then the killer bit, you wrote about how you couldn't bring yourself to love me as much as you did her. And you wonder why, I hate her and you?"

Diana struggled to find her voice. "Edward...I'm so sorry, you weren't ever meant to read that. You must understand that I had severe postnatal depression at the time. It was so bad that your father secretly hired a guidance counsellor to help. She told me to write a letter to Hannah telling her how I felt. It helped and slowly I began to feel better and we began to bond."

"So why did you keep the letter?"

"I kept it as a reminder, Edward, a reminder of the pain that I once felt, so that I could move on and appreciate what I had actually been given- you."

Edward sat quiet in thought, Diana held out her hand, desperate to comfort him any way she could.

"So, if you could do-over, are you telling me you would still have given up Hannah and adopted me?"

"No, yes, I don't know... that's not a fair question..."

"It's perfectly fair. Would you have chosen Hannah over me?"

Diana realised whatever the answer she gave him, he wouldn't believe. He needed help, outside help. She was done with lying for the day.

"Edward, I can't say what I would do now. That question is completely irrelevant. But what I will say is that I love you more than words can say. I am so grateful you came into our lives when you did."

Her son gave her a weak smile.

"But, I am also grateful for reconnecting with my daughter again. I loved her then and I love her now, I never stopped loving her. There is room in my heart for both of you, son. Don't make me choose again, Edward."

She leaned over and placed a kiss in the middle of his forehead.

"Goodnight," she said quietly and left the room.