Chapter 5 - THE FATHER I NEVER KNEW
Michael Hayes was Vincent’s uncle.
Which meant if Mom’s note was true, Vincent and I were cousins.
The realization hit us both at once.
Vincent stepped away from me like proximity itself had become dangerous.
The strange tension from the elevator suddenly felt grotesque.
Neither of us mentioned it.
We didn’t need to.
“Michael died before I was born,” Vincent said.
Luke shook his head.
“No.”
Vincent looked at him.
Luke hesitated.
Then:
“That’s what Dominic told you.”
Vincent’s expression turned lethal.
“What do you know?”
“Only rumors.”
“What rumors?”
“That Michael disappeared.”
I gripped the folder.
“When?”
“Sixteen years ago.”
One year before Mom died.
Vincent swore under his breath.
We escaped the storage facility through a freight entrance while Dominic’s men searched upstairs.
Vincent moved us to another safe property.
This one was a small house near Lake Michigan.
No marble.
No guards at the door.
Almost normal.
That made it scarier.
Grandma joined us after sunrise.
When I confronted her about Michael, she cried.
“Yes.”
The word destroyed the last lie.
“Michael Hayes was my father?”
“He loved your mother.”
“Then why did he leave?”
“He didn’t.”
Grandma sat down.
“Elaine told me Michael wanted to take you both away.”
“Then where did he go?”
“She didn’t know.”
Vincent stared through the window.
“Dominic.”
Grandma nodded slowly.
“Your mother believed Dominic made him disappear.”
I felt sick.
Vincent looked at me.
“Then your mother didn’t die because she knew about Arthur.”
“She died because she knew about all of them.”
Grandma wiped her eyes.
“She was scared for Claire.”
“Why didn’t she go to police?”
“She didn’t know who was clean.”
That made sense in a way I hated.
Vincent opened the ledger again.
One payment caught his attention.
Three weeks after Michael disappeared.
$250,000.
Recipient:
VICTOR DANE.
Beside it:
M.H. relocation.
“Relocation?” I whispered.
Luke leaned closer.
“That doesn’t necessarily mean murder.”
Hope appeared too quickly.
Vincent crushed it carefully.
“It doesn’t mean alive either.”
Then Grandma remembered something.
“Michael had a sister.”
Vincent frowned.
“No.”
“Yes.”
“She left Chicago before you were born.”
Vincent looked genuinely confused.
“My father only had two brothers.”
“That is what Dominic told you.”
Grandma gave him a sad look.
“You grew up inside the same lies Claire did.”
Her name was Elena Hayes.
Grandma had met her once.
“She hated Dominic.”
“Where is she now?”
“I don’t know.”
Luke began searching.
Two hours later, he found a possible match.
Elena Hart.
Age sixty-eight.
Living in Wisconsin.
No criminal record.
Widowed.
Retired nurse.
Vincent stared at the photograph.
She had Arthur’s eyes.
My eyes too.
Then Luke found one more detail.
Elena Hart had a son.
Born sixteen years ago.
May you like
His name:
Michael.
