Chapter 5 - THE DAUGHTER HE NEVER KNEW
Vincent stared at Evelyn.
For a moment, the street seemed unnaturally quiet.
“Explain.”
Evelyn looked toward Lily.
“Not in front of her.”
Vincent walked to Lily immediately.
He crouched.
“You’re going home with Marco.”
Lily frowned.
“I want to stay.”
“I know.”
“Is Grandpa really Grandpa?”
Vincent looked at Antonio.
The question hurt more than he expected.
“Yes.”
Lily’s eyes widened.
“Then why did everyone say he died?”
“That’s what I’m about to find out.”
Lily studied his face.
“You’re doing the quiet angry thing.”
Antonio almost smiled.
Vincent didn’t.
Marco arrived two minutes later.
Vincent made him promise not to let Lily out of his sight.
Then Lily hugged Antonio before leaving.
The older man’s face crumpled.
He held his granddaughter as though he had waited thirteen years for permission.
Vincent watched without softening.
After the car disappeared, he turned.
“Now.”
Antonio led them inside the townhouse.
It belonged to one of Sophia’s former employees.
A safe house.
On the dining table waited boxes of documents, photographs and old medical files.
Vincent remained standing.
“You have five minutes before I decide whether you’re my father or another enemy.”
Antonio accepted that.
“Thirteen years ago, I discovered Dominic was using Romano shipping companies for human trafficking.”
Vincent’s face hardened.
Antonio continued.
“Not drugs. Not weapons. People. Young women. Babies.”
Evelyn looked sick.
“I worked for Antonio’s accounting office,” she said. “I found payments to St. Matthew’s.”
Vincent connected the pieces.
“The adoption network.”
Antonio nodded.
“Victor Hale ran it through hospital contacts. Wealthy couples paid for babies whose records were altered.”
Hannah’s daughter.
Emma.
Vincent’s fists tightened.
“When I confronted Dominic, he denied everything. Two weeks later, my car exploded outside a warehouse.”
“You staged your death.”
“No.”
Antonio looked ashamed.
“Dominic staged it.”
Vincent frowned.
“He expected me to die. I escaped through the back of the warehouse. Sophia found me first.”
“And instead of coming to me?”
“We discovered Dominic had already placed men around you.”
Vincent’s expression sharpened.
“He threatened you?”
“He said if I surfaced, you and Maria would die.”
Vincent looked away.
Maria.
The wound that had never truly healed.
Antonio’s next sentence was quieter.
“Then Maria became pregnant.”
Vincent returned his gaze.
“We thought Dominic would back away once there was a child.”
“He didn’t.”
“No.”
Antonio looked at Evelyn.
“She was pregnant too.”
Vincent went still.
“With whose child?”
Evelyn did not answer immediately.
Then:
“Dominic’s.”
Vincent stared.
Evelyn’s voice remained steady despite the tears in her eyes.
“We had an affair before I knew what he was doing. When I tried to leave, he threatened me.”
“Lily.”
Evelyn nodded.
“Lily is my daughter.”
Vincent closed his eyes briefly.
Not Maria’s.
But still his in every way that mattered.
Then he remembered Evelyn’s earlier words.
Maria’s baby grew up in his house.
His eyes opened.
“Who?”
Antonio looked devastated.
“Sophia discovered the babies were going to be moved.”
“Hannah’s daughter Emma was being sold to a couple overseas. Maria’s newborn had been marked for removal because Dominic feared the child would secure your position permanently.”
“Why would he care about my infant daughter?”
“Because he planned to eliminate you eventually.”
Vincent’s voice went cold.
“And replace me.”
“With his own bloodline.”
Lily.
Vincent understood.
Dominic had wanted his biological daughter raised as Vincent Romano’s heir.
A child he could later influence.
“And Maria?”
Evelyn looked down.
“She found out.”
“What happened?”
No one answered.
Vincent looked at Antonio.
“What happened to my wife?”
Antonio’s silence was enough.
Vincent stepped forward.
“Tell me.”
“She survived childbirth.”
Vincent went completely still.
For nine years, he had believed Maria died from catastrophic bleeding.
“They told me—”
“I know.”
“Where is she?”
Antonio’s face broke.
“She confronted Dominic that night. He arranged for her to be transferred.”
“Transferred where?”
“A private recovery clinic.”
“And?”
“She died two days later.”
Vincent turned away.
His breathing changed.
For nine years, he had mourned a false story.
Maria had not died giving birth.
She had lived long enough to know someone had stolen her child.
“What happened to our baby?”
Antonio looked toward the documents.
“Sophia intervened before Dominic’s people could remove her.”
“And where did she go?”
“Sophia switched the hospital bands again.”
Vincent stared.
“With Emma?”
“No.”
Antonio shook his head.
“Emma had already been moved.”
“Then who?”
Evelyn whispered, “A baby scheduled for legitimate foster placement.”
Vincent’s frustration exploded.
“Enough riddles!”
His fist struck the table.
Everyone froze.
Vincent almost never raised his voice.
Antonio looked at him.
“Sophia needed to get Maria’s daughter out of the hospital without Dominic knowing.”
“So she gave her another identity.”
“Yes.”
“Whose?”
Antonio took a photograph from the box.
A young woman stood outside St. Matthew’s holding a newborn.
Vincent did not recognize her.
Then his eyes moved to another figure in the photograph.
Hannah’s mother.
Hannah’s mother was beside them.
Antonio said, “Sophia arranged for Maria’s daughter to be raised outside the Romano family.”
“Where?”
“She was afraid Dominic would find her.”
“What name?”
Antonio swallowed.
“Nobody knows the name Sophia ultimately used.”
Vincent stared.
“You’re telling me I have another daughter somewhere?”
“Yes.”
“She’d be nine?”
“Yes.”
“And you never found her?”
“We tried.”
“Thirteen years hiding and you couldn’t find one child?”
Antonio’s expression hardened.
“Because Sophia erased the trail deliberately.”
Vincent turned toward Evelyn.
“What happened to Hannah’s baby?”
Evelyn shook her head.
“I don’t know.”
“You worked there.”
“Not inside maternity.”
Antonio opened another file.
“Emma’s trail ends at 3:17 that morning when Hale signed her transfer.”
“Where was she going?”
“A private residence in Connecticut.”
“Whose?”
Antonio slid the paper across.
Vincent read the name.
Caroline Whitaker.
He looked up sharply.
“That makes no sense. Caroline would’ve been twenty-four.”
“Not her.”
Antonio pointed beneath the name.
Recipient contact:
Margaret Whitaker.
Caroline’s mother.
Vincent felt the room tilt.
“Caroline’s family bought Hannah’s daughter?”
“Apparently.”
Vincent called the mansion immediately.
Hannah answered.
“Is Lily safe?”
“Yes. Marco just brought her back.”
“Where’s Caroline?”
“In the library.”
“Don’t let her leave.”
“What happened?”
Vincent hesitated.
He hated telling Hannah over the phone.
But she deserved the truth faster than she deserved comfort.
“We found a transfer record for Emma.”
Silence.
Hannah whispered, “My daughter?”
“Yes.”
“Where?”
“The Whitaker family.”
Hannah did not speak.
Vincent continued.
“Caroline’s mother was listed as recipient.”
Hannah sat down.
“That means…”
“I don’t know yet.”
But Hannah already understood the possibility.
Caroline had grown up with one younger sister.
A sister rarely photographed.
A sister said to have died at age six.
Hannah had once heard Caroline mention her.
Emily.
Hannah’s heart slammed.
“Vincent.”
“Yes?”
“Caroline had a sister.”
He closed his eyes.
“How old?”
“Nine years younger.”
The same age Emma would have been.
Vincent looked at Antonio.
“Name?”
Hannah whispered, “Emily Whitaker.”
Vincent searched the transfer file.
At the bottom was a handwritten notation.
Placement alias approved:
EMILY W.
His voice softened.
“Hannah…”
She stopped breathing.
“Was she my daughter?”
“It looks that way.”
Hannah began to cry.
“What happened to her?”
Vincent hated the answer.
“I don’t know.”
He returned to the mansion with Antonio and Evelyn before dawn.
Caroline saw Antonio first.
She stood so abruptly her chair fell backward.
“You’re alive.”
Antonio looked at her with contempt.
“That disappoint you?”
Caroline looked toward Vincent.
“You don’t understand what my mother did.”
“Then explain.”
Caroline’s eyes filled.
“My parents couldn’t have another child.”
“Your mother bought Hannah’s baby.”
“I didn’t know that when I was young.”
“When did you find out?”
“After Emily disappeared.”
Hannah stepped forward.
“Disappeared?”
Caroline looked at her.
She had bullied Hannah.
Threatened her.
Slapped her.
But now something like shame appeared.
“My mother told everyone Emily died.”
Hannah’s face went white.
“But?”
“She didn’t.”
Vincent stared.
“Where is she?”
“I don’t know.”
Hannah grabbed the back of a chair.
Caroline continued.
“When Emily was six, she started asking why there were no baby pictures from the hospital. She found documents in my mother’s desk.”
“What documents?”
“Payment records.”
Hannah whispered, “And your mother sent her away?”
“No.”
Caroline shook her head.
“My father tried to protect her. He took Emily and left.”
“Where?”
“I never saw them again.”
Vincent asked, “Your father is supposed to be dead.”
“So was yours.”
The words landed hard.
Caroline wiped her face.
“Three years ago Dominic found me. He said Emily was alive. He said if I helped him recover Sophia’s evidence, he would tell me where she was.”
Hannah stared.
“So all this time…”
“I was trying to find my sister.”
“My daughter.”
Caroline looked at Hannah.
“Yes.”
For the first time, genuine remorse entered her voice.
“I’m sorry.”
Hannah’s anger did not disappear.
But now it had nowhere simple to land.
Vincent asked, “Did Dominic ever prove Emily was alive?”
Caroline nodded.
“He sent photographs.”
“Show me.”
Caroline retrieved a hidden cloud account on her phone.
Several images appeared.
A young girl walking beside an older man.
Six years old.
Then seven.
Then eight.
Recent photographs.
The latest taken two months ago.
Hannah covered her mouth.
The girl had her eyes.
Her chin.
Her smile.
Alive.
Her daughter was alive.
Vincent enlarged the most recent photograph.
Something in the background caught his attention.
A storefront sign.
A small town name.
Bellmere.
Connecticut.
Hannah began crying harder.
“We can find her.”
Vincent nodded.
“Yes.”
Then Antonio saw something else.
He pointed at the older man beside Emily.
“That’s Richard Whitaker.”
Caroline’s supposedly dead father.
Caroline stared.
But Antonio was no longer looking at Richard.
Behind him, reflected in the storefront window, stood another person watching them.
Dominic Romano.
The photograph was only two months old.
And in Dominic’s hand was a newspaper.
May you like
Written across the margin in black ink were three words:
SHE KNOWS EVERYTHING.
