Chapter 3 - THE FATHER I THOUGHT WAS DEAD
Roman knew Ethan Carter.
Not casually.
He had worked for him.
That was the first truth they gave me.
“Worked for him how?”
Roman sat across from me in a private study while Leo slept upstairs.
“Security.”
I laughed bitterly.
“Ethan sold medical equipment.”
“No.”
My chest tightened.
“He told me he worked in hospital procurement.”
“He did.”
“Then?”
“He also handled financial operations for my family.”
My skin went cold.
“Your family.”
“Yes.”
I looked at Marco.
He said nothing.
Roman continued.
“Ethan was not mafia.”
“Comforting.”
“But he worked near it.”
“Less comforting.”
I crossed my arms.
“He died in a car accident in Milwaukee.”
Roman’s expression hardened.
“That is what you were told.”
My stomach dropped.
Again.
Every sentence that began that way seemed determined to destroy something.
“He was twenty-nine.”
“Yes.”
“Six months before Leo was born.”
“Yes.”
“Did he die?”
Roman did not answer quickly enough.
I stood.
“Roman.”
“We never recovered a body.”
The room seemed to tilt.
“What?”
“The vehicle burned.”
“There was a funeral.”
“Closed casket.”
My mouth went dry.
I remembered Ethan’s mother crying.
The priest.
Rain on umbrellas.
My unborn child moving inside me.
“You knew?”
“I knew the circumstances.”
“And you never looked for me?”
“I didn’t know you existed.”
That stopped me.
“Ethan never mentioned me?”
“No.”
“That makes no sense.”
“He hid you.”
“Why?”
Roman looked toward the photograph of Leo.
“I think he was trying to keep you alive.”
My hands started shaking.
Marco placed another file on the table.
Ethan Carter.
Photograph.
Same crooked smile.
Same brown eyes Leo had.
I touched the page.
“Where did you get this?”
“Our internal archives.”
“What happened before the crash?”
Roman answered.
“Ethan found money missing.”
“From you?”
“From multiple businesses.”
“How much?”
“Twenty-three million.”
I laughed because the number sounded unreal.
“Who took it?”
“We never proved it.”
“Did Ethan?”
“No.”
“You’re sure?”
“Yes.”
“How?”
“He left evidence showing someone framed him.”
My stomach tightened.
“Why frame him?”
“To force him into hiding or kill him.”
“Which happened?”
“We don’t know.”
I looked at Roman.
“You expect me to believe the father of my son may have been alive for five years and nobody told me?”
“No.”
“What do you expect?”
“That you don’t trust me yet.”
Good answer.
I hated it.
Marco opened another folder.
Three weeks before Ethan’s crash, someone created a life insurance policy.
Beneficiary:
Megan Carter.
Amount:
Two million dollars.
I stared.
“I never received anything.”
“Because the insurer never declared him legally dead.”
“Then how did I have a funeral?”
“Different standard.”
My breathing became shallow.
“Was Ethan running?”
“We think so.”
“From who?”
Roman looked at Marco.
Then back at me.
“Someone inside my organization.”
My heart pounded.
“The same person who stabbed you?”
“Possibly.”
“And who found Leo?”
“Yes.”
I looked toward the ceiling.
My son.
Five years old.
Sick.
Sleeping inside a mafia boss’s house because strangers had photographed him for months.
“Why now?”
Roman’s expression tightened.
“Because I began reopening Ethan’s case two months ago.”
“You did?”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“Because money started disappearing again.”
The same pattern.
The same kind of theft.
“And Laura?”
Roman nodded.
“One of the shell companies receiving money owns part of the restaurant’s operating company.”
My stomach dropped.
“David?”
“We don’t know.”
“You own the building.”
“Yes.”
“So you went there because of the restaurant?”
“No.”
“What?”
Roman looked at me.
“I went to meet someone behind Laura.”
“Who?”
“Ethan.”
I stopped breathing.
“You met him?”
“No.”
“He contacted you?”
“Yes.”
“When?”
“This morning.”
Every part of me turned cold.
Roman reached into a drawer and placed a phone on the desk.
One message.
UNKNOWN NUMBER:
MIDNIGHT WAS TOO LATE LAST TIME. 4:00 P.M. BEHIND LAURA. COME ALONE. ETHAN CARTER.
I stared at the screen.
“You went.”
“Yes.”
“And someone stabbed you before he arrived.”
“Yes.”
“Did Ethan come?”
“No.”
Then Roman showed me the second message, received while I was at work.
One sentence.
YOU BROUGHT HER INTO THIS.
And attached beneath it was a photograph of me kneeling beside Roman in the alley.
May you like
Taken before his men arrived.
Whoever had contacted Roman as Ethan had been watching us the entire time.
