Chapter 6 - The Secret Hidden Inside His Father's Watch
“Two children?”
Roman's voice sounded unfamiliar to him.
Thomas Reed nodded.
“That's what Daniel believed.”
Roman stared at the drawing.
A little boy.
A woman.
A man whose face had been scratched out with a dark crayon.
“Who were they?”
“I don't know.”
Roman wanted to demand answers.
But Thomas was trembling, and Roman recognized the fear in his eyes.
He had seen it in Claire.
In Natalie.
Even in Margaret.
Everyone was frightened of someone who had spent decades controlling this story.
Roman placed the drawing inside his coat.
“Thank you, Thomas.”
The older man looked relieved.
Then Roman added, “You and your wife are going somewhere safe until this is over.”
Thomas shook his head.
“We don't need protection.”
“Yes,” Roman replied gently. “You do.”
On the drive home, Roman examined his father's pocket watch.
He remembered Victor Castellano carrying it to church every Sunday.
Victor had been a demanding father.
A man who believed weakness invited cruelty.
But Roman had loved him.
For years, Roman had excused his father's coldness as the cost of surviving a dangerous world.
Now he wondered whether that explanation had been too easy.
Aaron drove in silence.
Finally, Roman asked, “What did you find on Calvin Price?”
“He's been a physician for thirty-nine years. No disciplinary record. But his private clinic received large donations from several Castellano-connected foundations.”
“Which foundations?”
“The Eleanor Cross Children's Trust and Mercer Family Health.”
Roman looked up.
“Mercer again.”
Aaron nodded.
“And there's something else. Price signed the medical evaluations for both Sophie Cross and Patrick Sullivan.”
“Same doctor. Same foundations.”
“Exactly.”
Roman closed the watch.
“Find out whether Patrick's transfer was legitimate.”
“We're working on it.”
Roman thought about Claire.
If her father had spent decades protecting someone, perhaps he had finally tried to tell the truth.
Perhaps that was why his health had suddenly deteriorated.
At the mansion, Margaret Ellis was waiting.
She stood when Roman entered.
He placed the drawing in front of her.
Margaret covered her mouth.
“Where did you find this?”
“Daniel had it.”
She sat down.
“I haven't seen that in years.”
Roman leaned over the table.
“Then start talking.”
Margaret looked at the drawing.
“Anna Mercer was a young nurse at St. Agnes. She was kind. Too kind for the people running that hospital.”
“Was she my mother?”
Margaret hesitated.
“I believe so.”
Roman closed his eyes.
He had spent his childhood grieving one woman.
Now he was being told another might have spent decades grieving him.
“Why wasn't I raised by Anna?”
Margaret folded her hands.
“Your father was involved in a custody dispute before you were born.”
“With Anna?”
“Yes.”
“What kind of dispute?”
“She wanted to leave him.”
Roman felt the first real crack in the image he had carried of Victor Castellano.
“Why?”
“Because she discovered something about his business.”
Roman waited.
Margaret continued carefully.
“Victor controlled several hospitals through charitable partnerships. The public believed those hospitals served struggling families.”
“And privately?”
“They were used to hide financial transfers. False donations. Payments to people who didn't exist.”
Roman stared at her.
“Money laundering.”
Margaret nodded.
“Anna found the records.”
“What happened to her?”
“She disappeared shortly before you turned two.”
Roman's heart pounded.
“Disappeared?”
“Your father claimed she abandoned you.”
Roman thought of the woman who had raised him.
Elena.
Except her name had been Eleanor Cross.
“Where did Eleanor come in?”
“She was Anna's closest friend. She agreed to care for you temporarily while Anna tried to prove what Victor had done.”
“Temporarily?”
“Yes.”
“Then why did my father tell me she was my mother?”
Margaret's eyes filled.
“Because the arrangement became permanent before anyone could stop it.”
Roman stared at the floor.
“And Eleanor died when I was eight.”
“Yes.”
“Was her death natural?”
Margaret hesitated.
“She was diagnosed with pneumonia. But she had been trying to contact Anna for months.”
Roman felt the room tilt.
He had spent thirty-six years believing he knew how his mother died.
Now even that memory felt uncertain.
“What about Daniel?”
Margaret looked at the drawing again.
“Daniel came into the family later. Your father told everyone his mother died during childbirth.”
Roman swallowed.
“Was that true?”
“I never saw Daniel's birth records. But I remember Eleanor bringing a little boy to the hospital for vaccinations.”
“How old?”
“About six.”
Roman froze.
Daniel had been six when Eleanor died.
Roman had been twelve when his father told him Daniel's mother had died years before.
The dates didn't fit neatly.
Margaret looked exhausted.
“I can't explain everything, Roman. Some records were altered, and people were paid to stay quiet.”
Roman stepped away.
For several minutes, he stood at the library window.
He remembered Daniel at seven years old, following him around the estate.
He remembered teaching him to ride a bicycle.
He remembered promising they would always look after each other.
And he remembered the closed casket after the boating accident.
The body had been recovered from the water.
Roman had identified Daniel by his face and the scar above his left eyebrow.
Dr. Price had certified the death.
But Daniel's final days suggested he had known he was in danger.
Roman turned.
“Margaret, why did you wait so long?”
She looked ashamed.
“Because I was afraid.”
“Of Victor?”
“Of what happened to people who questioned him.”
Roman studied her.
His father had been dead for four years.
Yet fear of him remained alive in every room.
Then Aaron entered.
“Boss, we have a location.”
Roman turned immediately.
“Patrick?”
Aaron nodded.
“Mercer Medical isn't a functioning hospital. It's a private recovery residence operating under a different name.”
“Is he there?”
“We believe so.”
Roman reached for his coat.
Aaron raised a hand.
“There's a problem.”
“What?”
“Sophie's treatment records show she's been staying at the same facility.”
Roman stopped.
“Natalie's sister?”
“Yes.”
Roman thought of Natalie.
Of the messages threatening Sophie's medication.
Of Patrick Sullivan being transferred against his family's wishes.
Two vulnerable people in one building.
It wasn't a coincidence.
“Call Claire,” Roman said.
“Why?”
“Because it's her father. She deserves to know where we're going.”
Twenty minutes later, Claire joined them at the estate.
Her wrist was still in a brace.
She looked nervous, but determined.
Roman met her at the front door.
“You don't have to come.”
Claire shook her head.
“He's my father.”
Roman nodded.
“I understand.”
The drive to the recovery residence took nearly an hour.
The building stood behind tall iron gates on a wooded property.
It looked peaceful.
Almost luxurious.
Roman had learned that appearances were often the most carefully constructed lies.
Aaron spoke with the administrator while Roman waited beside Claire.
Then a young woman appeared at the end of the hallway.
She had dark hair.
Pale skin.
And the same face as Claire.
Not identical.
But close enough to make Roman's chest tighten.
The woman stopped.
Her eyes moved from Roman to Claire.
Then she whispered one word.
“Daddy?”
Claire stepped backward.
The young woman covered her mouth.
“No. You're not him.”
She looked at Roman with growing horror.
“Then they were telling the truth.”
Roman approached carefully.
“Are you Sophie?”
She nodded.
Claire stared at her.
Sophie began to cry.
“I thought I was the only one.”
Roman felt the room grow cold.
“Only one what?”
Sophie looked at Claire.
Then at the silver bracelet in Roman's hand.
May you like
And whispered:
“Only one of Patrick Sullivan's daughters.”
