Chapter 4 - THE WIFE I NEVER KNEW HE HAD
Michael had been married.
The revelation hurt in a way I hated.
Even after eight years.
Even after learning he might be dead.
Even after discovering he was tied to a mafia family and a medical conspiracy.
He had been married.
I laughed bitterly.
"Of course."
Damien looked at me.
"Laura—"
"My name isn't Elena."
"I know."
"Apparently Michael didn't."
"That's not what I meant."
I stood.
"Toby is upstairs thinking he finally knows who his father was, and now you're telling me his father had a wife?"
Damien remained seated.
"Yes."
"Was she pregnant?"
"I don't know."
I stared.
"You don't know?"
"Elena disappeared two weeks before Michael did."
That stopped me.
"What?"
Damien looked down.
"She was a research nurse at Helix."
My anger shifted.
"She worked with him."
"Yes."
"And she vanished."
"Yes."
I sat again.
This was no longer a simple betrayal.
It was another disappearance.
Another person swallowed by the same building.
"Did Michael ever divorce her?"
Damien shook his head.
"Not legally."
I covered my face.
I wasn't angry because Michael had owed me a wedding ring.
I was angry because he had given me half a life and never explained the other half.
Then Bernadette entered.
She had been listening.
I could tell.
Her eyes were wet.
"Elena wasn't Michael's wife by choice."
Damien looked up sharply.
"Bernadette."
She ignored him.
I stared.
"What does that mean?"
Bernadette sat down.
"The marriage was arranged."
My stomach tightened.
"By whom?"
"Mr. Rourke's father."
Damien's jaw hardened.
His father, Anthony Rourke, had died six years earlier.
Bernadette continued.
"Elena's family controlled a medical distribution company. The Rourkes needed access."
I felt sick.
"So Michael married her for business."
"At first."
"Did he love her?"
Bernadette hesitated.
"I think they became friends."
That was somehow easier to hear.
Then she looked at Damien.
"You should tell her the rest."
He closed his eyes.
"Tell me what?"
Bernadette answered for him.
"Elena was pregnant when she disappeared."
Silence.
My stomach turned.
"With Michael's child?"
"We don't know."
Damien stood.
"Enough."
"No," I said.
He looked at me.
"I deserve the truth."
He nodded reluctantly.
Bernadette continued.
"Elena told me the baby wasn't Michael's."
I stared.
"Then whose?"
She looked toward Damien.
His face changed.
I understood before anyone spoke.
"No."
Damien whispered:
"Mine."
The room went silent.
I stared at him.
"Your brother's wife was pregnant with your child?"
His jaw tightened.
"She wasn't really his wife."
"That's not an answer."
"No."
He looked directly at me.
"It's not."
For the first time, the feared mafia boss looked ashamed.
"Elena and I were together before my father forced her to marry Michael."
My anger cooled into shock.
"Did Michael know?"
"Eventually."
"And?"
"He helped us."
I stared.
Michael had carried secrets for everyone.
For Damien.
For Elena.
For me.
Maybe that was why he disappeared.
Then my attorney called.
She had found a second encrypted folder on Michael's memory card.
The password was a date.
March fourteenth.
Toby's birthday.
My hands shook.
We opened it.
Inside was a single scanned document.
A birth certificate.
Baby girl.
Born seven years and eight months ago.
Mother:
Elena Vargas.
Father:
Blank.
Then a photograph loaded.
A newborn child.
May you like
And beside her, handwritten by Michael:
Damien's daughter survived. He was never told.
