Chapter 9 - THE FATHER WHO WATCHED ME FLY
His name was Julian Mitchell.
Onstage, he had been known as Julian Sky.
I found old footage online.
The moment he appeared, I forgot how to breathe.
Same eyes.
Same smile.
Same way of extending his left hand before a drop.
Mine.
I had learned that movement naturally.
Or maybe genetically.
Julian had been Aurelia’s star aerialist before I was born.
Then he discovered the same shipping irregularities Rebecca later uncovered.
He tried to leave.
Charles Whitmore threatened him.
So Rebecca and Julian separated.
She raised me.
He disappeared.
I felt numb.
“Did he know about me?”
I asked Celeste.
“Yes.”
“Did he ever see me perform?”
Her face changed.
“Yes.”
My eyes filled with tears.
“How many times?”
“More than you know.”
I remembered audiences.
Darkness beyond the spotlights.
Hundreds of strangers.
Had my father been out there?
Watching?
Never speaking?
My anger returned.
“Where is he?”
“New Mexico.”
I stared.
“He’s alive and living in New Mexico?”
“Yes.”
“Does he want to meet me?”
Celeste hesitated.
“He’s been waiting for you to decide.”
That sentence mattered.
Not he’s coming.
Not he deserves you.
My decision.
I said yes.
Two weeks later, Julian Mitchell entered a quiet hotel conference room in Manhattan.
He was sixty.
Tall.
Lean.
Silver hair pulled back.
His hands trembled.
“Grace.”
I studied him.
Then said:
“You look like me.”
He laughed through tears.
“I was thinking the same thing.”
No hug.
Not yet.
We talked.
For hours.
He told me he left because Charles threatened Rebecca and me.
He spent years helping investigators trace Whitmore shipments.
He watched my circus career from a distance.
And when I fell?
He nearly abandoned everything.
“Why didn’t you come?”
I asked.
“Because Celeste told me Charles believed you were no longer connected to us.”
He lowered his eyes.
“If I appeared, he would know otherwise.”
I understood the logic.
I still hated the choice.
“You all stole years from me.”
“Yes.”
No defense.
Then Julian gave me something.
My first pair of aerial shoes.
Tiny.
Red.
I stared.
“You bought these?”
He nodded.
“You were four.”
“I didn’t start training until sixteen.”
He smiled.
“You climbed everything.”
I laughed despite myself.
Then he became serious.
“Grace, there’s something about Vincent Moretti you need to know.”
My stomach tightened.
“What?”
“His father helped Charles move illegal cargo.”
“I know.”
“Vincent discovered it years ago.”
I frowned.
“He told me he didn’t.”
Julian shook his head.
“He didn’t know the full network.”
“Then what did he know?”
“That Aurelia was involved.”
My heart sank.
Vincent had recognized me.
Hired me.
And known my old circus might be connected to his family’s crimes.
Again, another partial truth.
I closed my eyes.
Julian continued.
“He also knew who your father was.”
I stared.
“Before I did?”
“Yes.”
My anger became cold.
Vincent had known Julian Mitchell existed while I believed my father was dead.
And he never told me.
I stood.
Then Julian said:
“Grace, wait.”
I turned.
“There’s more.”
Of course.
“Vincent didn’t keep it secret because his family ordered him to.”
“Then why?”
May you like
Julian looked ashamed.
“Because I asked him to.”
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