Chapter 6 - The Child Nobody Was Allowed to Remember
“Your son?”
Damian stared at Anthony.
For seventeen years, he'd believed his younger brother had died before getting the chance to become a father.
Now Anthony was telling him there had been a child.
A boy.
A nephew Damian had never known existed.
Anthony sat on the edge of their mother's bed, staring at the worn carpet.
“His name is Michael.”
Damian lowered himself into the chair opposite him.
“How old?”
“Seventeen.”
“Does he know who you are?”
Anthony looked up.
“Yes.”
Damian waited.
Anthony's voice broke.
“He knows I exist. That's not the same as knowing me.”
The words landed harder than Damian expected.
“Where is he?”
“Living with his mother outside Charleston.”
“Is he safe?”
“I thought so.”
Damian looked at the photograph in his hand.
“Start from the beginning.”
Anthony rubbed his palms together.
“When I was twenty, I was seeing a woman named Caroline Mercer. She worked at a bookstore near the university. Dad didn't approve.”
“Of course he didn't.”
“She wasn't connected to the family. She didn't want anything to do with our business.”
“Sounds like a smart woman.”
Anthony gave a tired smile.
“She was.”
When Caroline became pregnant, Anthony wanted to marry her.
Vincent refused to help.
Then Malcolm intervened.
He offered Caroline money, a house, and financial security for the baby.
In exchange, she would raise the child without using the Russo name.
“I thought Malcolm was helping us,” Anthony said.
Damian stared.
“You accepted?”
“No. Caroline did.”
“Why?”
“Because someone had already threatened her.”
Damian leaned forward.
“Who?”
“She wouldn't tell me. She was terrified.”
Anthony took a breath.
“A few weeks after Michael was born, I discovered the missing trust payments. Evelyn was supposed to receive annual distributions for Rachel. Instead, the money was being routed through accounts controlled by Malcolm.”
“So you started asking questions.”
“Yes.”
“And then the warehouse burned.”
Anthony nodded.
Damian finally understood part of the pattern.
Rachel's mother had been threatened.
Caroline had been threatened.
Anthony had disappeared.
Every time someone got close to the family trust, someone else became vulnerable.
“What happened to Caroline after the fire?”
“She was told I was dead. Whitaker arranged for her and Michael to move.”
“Did Whitaker tell her you survived?”
“Eventually.”
“And she kept you away?”
Anthony's jaw tightened.
“She told me Michael deserved a childhood without looking over his shoulder.”
Damian couldn't entirely blame her.
“You agreed?”
“I tried to visit when he was five. Caroline said someone had followed her home the next day.”
Anthony swallowed.
“I stopped.”
Damian studied him.
Seventeen years.
A brother lost.
A son growing up without his father.
And a dead man's fortune sitting at the center of it.
“Does Michael want to meet you?”
Anthony looked down.
“He wrote me a letter last Christmas.”
“What did it say?”
Anthony reached inside his coat.
He removed a folded sheet of notebook paper, worn along the edges.
Damian read the first lines.
Hi, Dad.
Mom says you're not a bad person. I don't know if that's true because I don't know you.
I'm graduating next year.
I guess I wanted you to know.
Damian stopped reading.
There were no dramatic accusations.
No demands.
Just a boy who wanted his father to remember he existed.
Damian handed the letter back.
“You should have answered.”
Anthony looked away.
“I did.”
“What did you say?”
“That I was proud of him.”
“And?”
“That I hoped we'd meet someday.”
Damian shook his head.
“You can't keep asking people to wait for someday.”
Anthony stared at the letter.
“I know.”
A silence settled between them.
Then Damian stood.
“We're going to find Michael.”
Anthony looked alarmed.
“Damian, Malcolm may already know where he is.”
“Then we won't give him another seventeen years.”
His phone vibrated.
Ethan had sent photographs from the hospital's security cameras.
One showed Charles Baird entering the medical records office.
Another showed him leaving with the blue folder.
But the third photograph made Damian stop.
Baird stood beside a gray sedan in the hospital parking garage.
A young man was sitting in the passenger seat.
Dark hair.
A narrow face.
And eyes that looked painfully familiar.
Anthony stepped beside Damian.
His breath caught.
“Michael.”
Damian enlarged the photograph.
“Are you sure?”
Anthony nodded.
“I'd know him anywhere.”
Damian immediately called Ethan.
“The boy in Baird's car is Anthony's son. Find out where they went.”
Ethan answered, “Already checking.”
Anthony grabbed Damian's arm.
“Baird has Michael.”
“We don't know whether Michael went willingly.”
“Does that matter?”
“Yes. Because if we rush in without understanding what's happening, we could make it worse.”
Anthony released him.
He looked ashamed.
“You sound like Mom.”
Damian almost smiled.
“Someone has to.”
They returned to the main wing.
Victoria was sitting alone in the library.
She stood when Damian entered.
“Did you find Rachel?”
“She's safe.”
Victoria exhaled.
“Thank God.”
Damian studied her.
“Did Malcolm ever mention Anthony's son?”
Victoria looked confused.
“Anthony has a child?”
“Answer the question.”
“No.”
“Did he mention a young man named Michael Mercer?”
Her eyes widened.
“Mercer?”
Damian noticed.
“What?”
Victoria crossed to the desk and opened a drawer.
Inside was a guest list for tomorrow's wedding.
She pointed to a name handwritten near the bottom.
M. MERCER — VALE FOUNDATION SCHOLARSHIP RECIPIENT.
Damian stared.
“Who added this?”
“Malcolm.”
“When?”
“This afternoon.”
Anthony stepped forward.
“Why would Michael be invited?”
Victoria looked between the brothers.
“Malcolm told me the boy was going to make a short speech about how the foundation had helped him.”
Damian's expression darkened.
“Helped him how?”
“College assistance. Housing support. He said it would be good publicity.”
Anthony shook his head.
“Michael would never agree to that.”
Victoria looked genuinely frightened.
“I didn't know.”
Damian picked up the guest list.
“You helped organize this wedding. You knew Malcolm was controlling the trust. You threatened Rachel. And now you're telling me you didn't know about Michael?”
Victoria's eyes filled.
“I knew he was using me. I didn't know he was using children.”
Damian looked at her.
“You had enough information to stop hurting Rachel.”
Victoria nodded.
“Yes.”
She didn't offer another excuse.
Instead, she took something from the desk.
A small velvet box.
Inside was the engagement ring Damian had given her.
“I don't expect you to forgive me,” she said.
Damian stared at it.
“Then what are you doing?”
“Giving you something you should have had months ago.”
She placed a key beside the ring.
“The filing cabinet in Malcolm's office. He gave me access when he thought I was going to sign the wedding papers without reading them.”
“What's in it?”
“Copies of the foundation accounts.”
Damian picked up the key.
“Why didn't you give me this earlier?”
Victoria wiped her face.
“Because I kept hoping I could fix everything without admitting what I'd done.”
Damian nodded slowly.
“That hope hurt people.”
“I know.”
For the first time, he believed she might actually understand.
Ethan entered.
“Boss, we found the sedan.”
Anthony was on his feet immediately.
“Where?”
“Parked outside the old St. Andrew's community center. Baird left twenty minutes ago.”
“And Michael?”
“Still inside.”
Damian reached for his coat.
“Get the car.”
But Ethan raised a hand.
“There's something you need to see first.”
He showed Damian another security image.
Michael stood beside a glass display case.
Inside was a framed photograph of Vincent Russo presenting a donation to the community center.
Michael was pointing at it.
Baird stood nearby.
And in Michael's hand was a white envelope.
Ethan enlarged the writing.
It was addressed to:
DAMIAN RUSSO.
Anthony stared.
“What is Baird making my son deliver?”
Damian looked carefully at the image.
Then noticed the handwritten message beneath his own name.
Four words.
ASK WHO STARTED THE FIRE.
Damian turned toward Anthony.
His brother was staring at the screen.
May you like
And for the first time since walking into the mansion, Anthony looked truly terrified.
“Damian,” he whispered, “there's something about that night I haven't told you.”
