Chapter 6 - THE FATHER NO ONE NAMED
Nicholas tore the chain from his neck.
“This?”
Anna nodded.
“I’ve had this since I was twenty.”
Dominic looked at him.
“Who gave it to you?”
“Dad.”
Teresa, who had joined them at St. Catherine’s, closed her eyes.
Dominic saw it.
Again.
Another truth his mother had been carrying.
“Mother.”
Teresa whispered, “Not here.”
Dominic’s anger sharpened.
“We have spent eleven years not talking in the wrong places. Talk.”
People moved quietly through the hallway around them.
Teresa sat beside Anna Reed.
“I’m sorry.”
Anna turned her face away.
Hannah looked between them.
“You knew my mother.”
“Yes.”
“How?”
“Anna was Elena’s nurse at Saint Gabriel’s.”
Hannah stared.
Her mother had spent most of Hannah’s childhood working hospital night shifts.
She had rarely discussed patients.
Professional privacy, Hannah had assumed.
Now that silence looked different.
Teresa continued.
“Anna helped Elena leave the hospital without Richard finding her.”
Dominic frowned.
“Then why does she recognize Nicholas?”
Anna answered before Teresa could.
“Baby.”
Nicholas froze.
Anna pointed toward him.
“You.”
Hannah understood slowly.
“Mom, are you saying Nicholas was there when Elena had Matthew?”
Anna shook her head.
“No. Baby.”
She pointed to Nicholas again.
Teresa covered her face.
Dominic stared at his mother.
“What is she saying?”
Teresa lowered her hands.
“Nicholas is not your father’s biological son.”
Nobody moved.
Nicholas laughed.
A single broken sound.
“That’s ridiculous.”
Teresa’s eyes filled with tears.
“Your father knew.”
“Stop.”
“Nicky—”
“Stop.”
Dominic stepped toward his brother.
Nicholas shoved him away.
“Did you know?”
“No.”
“Did Elena?”
Teresa nodded.
Nicholas stared at her.
“Who was my father?”
“Daniel Rowan.”
Hannah’s head snapped up.
“Rowan?”
Teresa nodded.
“Mrs. Rowan’s husband?”
“Yes.”
Everything rearranged itself.
Mrs. Rowan wasn’t simply hiding Matthew.
She was family.
Dominic looked at his mother.
“Daniel Rowan was Matthew’s grandfather?”
“No.”
Teresa shook her head.
“He was Nicholas’s father.”
Nicholas looked sick.
Teresa continued carefully.
“Daniel had a son from his first marriage.”
Dominic saw where it was going.
“Elena.”
Teresa nodded.
“Elena fell in love with Daniel’s son, Aaron.”
Nicholas whispered, “My half brother.”
“Yes.”
“And Matthew…”
“Is Aaron’s son.”
The blood relationship was tangled, but suddenly the secrecy had shape.
Matthew was Elena’s child.
Aaron Rowan was his father.
And Aaron was Nicholas’s half brother.
Dominic sat down.
“What happened to Aaron?”
Teresa looked at Anna.
Anna’s face tightened.
“Dead.”
“When?”
“Eleven years ago.”
Teresa whispered, “Three days before Elena disappeared.”
Dominic looked at her.
“How?”
“Car accident.”
Hannah felt a chill.
“Accident?”
Teresa hesitated.
“I don’t know anymore.”
Nicholas paced away.
“So Elena was pregnant by my half brother, Dad hated it, Richard was watching her, Aaron died, and Elena disappeared.”
“Yes.”
Nicholas turned.
“And you thought never mentioning any of this was a reasonable plan?”
Teresa cried openly now.
“No.”
For once, nobody rushed to comfort her.
Actions had consequences.
Even actions born from fear.
Dominic looked at Anna.
“Mrs. Reed, why was my sister afraid of me?”
Anna’s eyes softened.
“She… wasn’t.”
He stopped.
“But the recording—”
Anna shook her head.
“Not you.”
Camille suddenly understood.
“She said she was afraid of someone in the family.”
Anna nodded.
Dominic looked at Nicholas.
Nicholas looked wounded.
“Don’t.”
“I’m not accusing you.”
“It feels like it.”
Anna reached for Hannah’s hand and drew letters slowly against her palm.
R.
V.
Hannah looked at Dominic.
“Richard Vale?”
Anna shook her head.
Then added another letter.
S.
Camille frowned.
“R.V.S.?”
Teresa whispered, “Robert Vincent Caruso.”
Dominic’s father.
Vittorio had been his middle name in business circles.
His legal first name had been Robert.
Anna nodded.
Hannah looked at Dominic.
“Elena was afraid of your father.”
The answer hurt.
But it made sense.
Then Anna tapped the small key that had fallen from Nicholas’s chain.
She pointed toward the train ticket.
“Station.”
Nicholas stared.
“This key opens something?”
Anna nodded.
They returned to 30th Street Station.
Not locker 37.
The key opened an old rental box near the abandoned parcel office.
Inside sat a man’s wristwatch.
Silver band.
Black face.
The same kind Camille had seen in the passage.
But this watch was eleven years old.
Its glass was cracked.
Under it lay a photograph of Aaron Rowan.
He wore the watch.
Beside him stood Richard Vale.
Dominic picked up another object.
A hotel receipt.
Baltimore.
Dated the day after Aaron’s supposed death.
Camille whispered, “Then Aaron didn’t die in that accident.”
Dominic’s eyes narrowed.
No fake death.
Something worse.
“Someone used his name after he died.”
Hannah found the final item.
A letter.
Not from Aaron.
From Richard.
Elena, I did what your father ordered because I believed he was protecting the family. Aaron’s death was not part of that order. If you want Matthew to survive, do not trust anyone carrying Aaron’s watch.
Dominic stared at the silver watch.
The watch was not identification.
It was a warning.
Someone had been copying Aaron’s watch deliberately for years.
Camille whispered, “The person in the passage wanted me to think of Aaron.”
Michael called.
Dominic answered.
“We found Mrs. Rowan’s car.”
“Where?”
“Near Fairmount Park.”
“Eli?”
“Not there.”
Dominic’s jaw tightened.
“Any sign of Elena?”
“No.”
Michael paused.
“But we found something in the trunk.”
“What?”
“A child’s backpack.”
Hannah’s stomach dropped.
Michael continued.
“And inside it was a note addressed to you.”
Dominic put the call on speaker.
Michael read it aloud.
UNCLE D, GRANDMA SAYS I SHOULD TRUST YOU NOW. BUT MOM SAYS THE MAN WITH DAD’S WATCH IS COMING.
A second line had been added beneath it.
Different handwriting.
Adult.
Clean.
Precise.
BRING THE RECORDER TO SAINT GABRIEL’S AT DAWN IF YOU WANT THE BOY BACK.
Camille whispered, “Richard.”
Dominic shook his head.
“No.”
He recognized the handwriting.
He had seen it every Christmas of his life.
On birthday cards.
On Foundation checks.
On letters from school.
He looked at Teresa.
His mother saw his face.
“What?”
Dominic folded the note.
“The handwriting belongs to Uncle Raymond.”
Teresa went still.
Raymond Caruso.
Vittorio’s younger brother.
May you like
And the one man who had managed the family foundation for twenty-five years.
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