Chapter 2 - THE MAN WHO WAS NEVER BURIED
I had spent six years believing Elijah's father was dead.
Now Kieran Blackwood was telling me that even the circumstances of his death had been a lie.
"What happened to Gabriel?"
Kieran looked toward the window.
"I don't know everything."
I laughed bitterly.
"That's becoming a familiar answer."
His expression tightened.
"Gabriel worked for my brother, Sebastian. He handled legitimate freight accounts and occasionally translated Spanish-language contracts."
My heart stopped.
"Sebastian Blackwood?"
Kieran nodded.
The name brought back a memory.
Gabriel coming home pale.
A phone call he refused to answer.
The night he told me to lock our apartment door and never open it for anyone claiming to work for the Blackwoods.
I gripped the counter.
"Gabriel told me your family was dangerous."
Kieran didn't argue.
"He was right."
For a moment, neither of us spoke.
Then he continued.
"Seven years ago, a shipping warehouse burned near the Hudson. Three men were reported dead."
"Gabriel?"
"His name was on the list."
My throat tightened.
"But?"
"There were discrepancies in the records."
I stared.
"What discrepancies?"
"One body was never positively identified."
The kitchen seemed to tilt.
I caught the counter.
Kieran moved forward, then stopped when I raised my hand.
"Don't."
He nodded.
I took a shaky breath.
"So you're saying Gabriel might be alive?"
"I'm saying we need proof before drawing conclusions."
I looked down at Elijah's hospital invoice.
For six years, I'd raised our son alone.
Worked endless shifts.
Slept in cramped apartments.
Sold my jewelry.
And watched Elijah undergo painful medical treatments without the father who'd once promised he'd never leave us.
If Gabriel was alive, I didn't know whether I wanted to hug him or scream.
Then Kieran asked something unexpected.
"Does Elijah have a small scar beneath his left shoulder?"
My heart stopped.
"How could you know that?"
Kieran went pale.
"Gabriel told me about it."
I stared.
"Gabriel never met Elijah."
Kieran slowly shook his head.
"Then someone else told me."
My breathing quickened.
"What are you talking about?"
Kieran looked toward the hallway.
Then took out his phone.
He opened an old photograph.
A little boy sat on a hospital bed holding a stuffed dinosaur.
Dark curls.
Brown eyes.
A tiny blue hospital bracelet.
Elijah.
My son.
The photograph was dated eight months earlier.
I stared at Kieran.
"Why do you have a picture of my child?"
His face changed.
"I didn't know it was yours."
"Then whose did you think it was?"
He swallowed.
"My brother sent it."
My blood turned cold.
"Why?"
Kieran looked down.
"Sebastian said a child connected to our family needed financial assistance."
I stared.
"And you helped?"
"Yes."
My eyes filled.
"How much?"
Kieran hesitated.
"Nearly two hundred thousand dollars."
I stopped breathing.
Two hundred thousand.
Yet I still owed $18,640.72.
"Where did the money go?"
Kieran's expression darkened.
"That's what I'm about to find out."
Then he opened another message.
It came from Sebastian.
May you like
The words made my stomach turn.
KEEP THE TORRES WOMAN EMPLOYED. SHE MUST NEVER KNOW WHO THE CHILD REALLY BELONGS TO.
