Chapter 5: The Father I Never Knew
I don’t remember hanging up.
I don’t remember walking downstairs.
I only remember one thing.
The sentence repeating in my head.
*Your mother was murdered.*
For twelve years, I had lived with grief.
But grief was easier when it had a reason.
An accident was cruel.
A tragedy was painful.
But murder?
Murder meant someone chose.
Someone decided my mother’s life was worth taking.
Someone looked at her and chose to destroy her.
I stood in the library while rain hit the windows.
Rico was across from me.
Dante stood near the door.
Neither man spoke.
Finally, I said:
“Tell me everything.””
Rico didn’t move.
“I don’t know if you’re ready.””
I looked at him.
“You don’t get to decide that anymore.””
The words hit him.
Good.
Because I was tired of people making decisions about my life without me.
Rico nodded slowly.
“Your mother and I met when I was twenty-two.””
I sat down.
Not because I wanted to.
Because my legs suddenly felt weak.
“At the time, I wasn’t the man you see now.””
I almost smiled.
“You mean you weren’t terrifying?””
His eyes lowered.
“No.””
A pause.
“I was worse.””
The honesty surprised me.
“I grew up surrounded by violence. My family expected me to continue it.””
He looked at the photograph on the table.
“Then I met Elena.””
My mother.
The woman who always sang while cooking.
The woman who kept old birthday cards in a drawer.
The woman who told me every person deserved a second chance.
“She believed there was still something good in me.””
“And my father?””
Rico became quiet.
“Your father was my closest friend.””
I stared.
“What?””
His jaw tightened.
“His name was Adrian Hayes.””
My breath caught.
Hayes.
My last name.
“He wasn’t always a bad man.””
The way Rico said that bothered me.
Not because I believed him.
Because I wasn’t sure.
“He changed.””
“How?””
“Power.””
The answer was simple.
“And fear.””
Rico looked toward the window.
“Adrian learned how to manipulate people. How to control them. How to make them afraid.””
“That doesn’t explain why my mother died.””
“No.””
His voice became darker.
“It explains why she had to hide you.””
I looked down.
“She knew?””
“She discovered Adrian was involved in things that could destroy both of us.””
“What things?””
Rico hesitated.
Then:
“Information.””
I frowned.
“What?””
“Your mother found evidence against powerful people.””
“Evidence about what?””
“Crimes.””
The room felt smaller.
“She planned to expose them.””
“And my father?””
“He wanted the evidence.””
I swallowed.
“So he killed her?””
Rico didn’t answer immediately.
That was enough.
I looked away.
For years, I had imagined my father.
A hundred different versions.
A man who regretted leaving.
A man who searched for me.
A man who was lost.
Never this.
Never someone dangerous.
“I hate him.””
The words came out quietly.
Rico looked at me.
“You have every right.””
Something about that sentence hurt.
Because I expected him to defend him.
Instead, he accepted my anger.
A knock interrupted us.
Dante entered.
“Boss.””
Rico looked up.
“What?””
“We found where the signal came from.””
Everyone became still.
“Where?””
Dante looked at me.
Then said:
“Your old apartment building.””
My stomach dropped.
“What?””
“The call. The speaker system. Everything.””
Rico stood.
“That’s impossible.””
Dante shook his head.
“No.””
He placed a folder on the table.
“It’s worse.””
Rico opened it.
Inside were surveillance photos.
My apartment.
My street.
My workplace.
Pictures taken over weeks.
I felt sick.
“He was watching me.””
Rico’s expression turned murderous.
“Yes.””
I stared at the images.
Then I saw one photo.
A man standing across from Il Destino.
Watching me serve tables.
Watching Leo.
Watching Rico.
The image was blurry.
But I knew him.
I knew him without ever meeting him.
“My father.””
Rico looked at the photo.
Then quietly said:
“He wasn’t watching you.””
I looked at him.
“Then what was he doing?””
Rico turned the picture around.
The man wasn’t looking at me.
He was looking at Leo.
My stomach turned.
“Why is he watching your son?””
Nobody answered.
Because everyone already knew.
My father wasn’t interested in finding me.
He had found me because of Leo.
A sound came from upstairs.
A small voice.
“Clara?””
Leo.
I turned.
The little boy stood at the doorway holding his stuffed rabbit.
His eyes were tired.
But he looked relieved when he saw me.
“Are you leaving?””
The question broke something inside me.
Because it wasn’t just Leo asking.
It was every scared child who had ever wondered if someone would disappear.
I walked toward him.
“No.””
His small hand reached for mine.
“Promise?””
I looked at Rico.
Then back at Leo.
“I promise.””
Leo nodded.
Then whispered:
“Daddy says promises are important.””
I looked at Rico.
A strange sadness crossed his face.
Because he knew.
He knew promises were exactly what had destroyed us all.
That night, after everyone went to sleep, I found something waiting outside my bedroom door.
An envelope.
No name.
No writing.
Just my necklace drawn on the front.
My hands shook as I opened it.
Inside was a single photograph.
A photograph of my mother.
But she wasn’t alone.
Beside her was Adrian Hayes.
And in her arms was a baby.
Me.
On the back of the photograph were six words.
May you like
Words written by my father.
*Ask Rico who your real father is.*
