Chapter 5 - The Son Caleb Never Knew
The little boy in the photograph couldn't have been more than five years old.
Dark curls.
Gray eyes.
And the same stubborn expression Caleb wore whenever someone told him what to do.
I stared at the image.
"Caleb, is that your son?"
He didn't answer.
His fingers trembled against the armrest.
Then he whispered:
"I don't know."
I sat beside him.
"Tell me about Rebecca."
Caleb closed his eyes.
"We married when I was twenty-seven."
"What happened?"
"She left after three years."
"Why?"
His voice hardened.
"Because she couldn't live with the things I was doing."
I looked down.
That answer made sense.
Caleb had never hidden what he was.
He controlled a criminal organization.
People feared him.
And he'd spent years convincing himself that fear was the only way to keep his family safe.
"Did she tell you she was pregnant?" I asked.
He shook his head.
"No."
"Then how did she die?"
Caleb looked toward the lake.
"Her car went off a bridge during a storm. They found the wreckage and her identification."
"Was there a body?"
He hesitated.
"No."
Another disappearance.
Another empty grave.
Another lie that had shaped his life.
I felt sick.
"Caleb, someone has been manipulating your family for years."
He looked at me.
"I know."
For the first time, his voice carried no anger.
Only exhaustion.
Then Gabriel entered.
"Boss, Vincent agreed to speak."
Caleb sat straighter.
"When?"
"Tonight. Secure video call."
My heart raced.
Caleb nodded.
At eight that evening, we gathered in his study.
Gabriel established the call through a protected connection.
A face appeared on the screen.
Older.
Thinner.
But unmistakably related to Caleb.
Vincent Cross.
For several seconds, the brothers stared at each other.
Then Vincent whispered:
"Caleb."
Caleb's jaw tightened.
"You're alive."
Vincent nodded.
"I'm sorry."
"You let me bury you."
"I know."
"Fifteen years."
Vincent lowered his eyes.
"I was trying to keep you safe."
Caleb laughed bitterly.
"Everyone keeps saying that."
Vincent looked toward me.
"Who's she?"
Caleb hesitated.
Then said:
"Grace Holloway. She works here."
Vincent studied my face.
Something changed.
"Holloway?"
I nodded.
"Yes."
Vincent went pale.
"Your father's name wouldn't happen to be Thomas Holloway, would it?"
My heart stopped.
"How do you know my father?"
Vincent looked at Caleb.
Then back at me.
"Thomas Holloway saved my life fifteen years ago."
I stared.
My father had died seven years earlier.
He'd never mentioned the Mercer family.
Vincent continued.
"And before he died, he left something for you."
My hands trembled.
"What?"
"A letter."
He swallowed.
"Grace, your father knew who ordered Caleb's shooting."
May you like
Then he added:
"And he knew it would happen before Caleb ever met you."
