Chapter 2 - The Man Who Was Supposed to Be Dead
I laughed.
Not because anything was funny.
Because sometimes your brain rejects reality by making the wrong sound.
“That’s impossible.”
Reed placed the photograph on a shelf.
“I know my brother.”
“His name was Evan Mercer.”
“No.”
“He sold solar contracts.”
“No.”
“He lived in Phoenix.”
Reed’s jaw tightened.
“He lived wherever he needed people to believe he lived.”
I stared at him.
Ava rested her cheek against my shoulder, completely unaware that her father had apparently changed identities as casually as other people changed shirts.
Then Reed said something worse.
“Daniel died nineteen months ago.”
My stomach turned.
“No.”
“The funeral was private.”
“No.”
“I identified the body.”
“He texted me after that.”
Reed went still.
“When?”
I remembered.
The message had arrived six weeks before Ava was born.
I’m not coming back. Stop contacting me.
Cruel.
Simple.
Final.
I had deleted everything except a screenshot because some pathetic part of me needed proof that I hadn’t imagined loving him.
“Show me.”
I hesitated.
Then opened my phone.
Reed read the screenshot.
His face hardened.
“Send this to me.”
“Why?”
“Because my dead brother apparently sent you a message thirteen months after I buried him.”
Elena suddenly spoke.
“Mr. Callaway, dinner service begins in forty minutes.”
Reed looked at her.
“Then manage it.”
Her lips tightened.
“And Mara?”
“She stays.”
I almost collapsed from relief.
Elena didn’t look relieved.
Reed noticed.
Interesting.
Then he unlocked the door and called someone.
“Tommy. Downstairs. Now.”
Less than a minute later, Tommy Ritchie entered.
He was the man who had warned me on my first day that Reed’s office “did not exist.”
His expression changed when he saw Ava.
Then changed again when Reed handed him the photograph.
“Where did she get this?”
“She dated him.”
Tommy looked at me.
“How long?”
“Almost a year.”
“And the baby?”
I pulled Ava closer.
Reed answered for me.
“Eight months.”
Tommy stared at Ava’s face.
Then whispered:
“Jesus.”
I hated them both immediately.
“Stop looking at my daughter like she’s evidence.”
Reed’s attention snapped toward me.
For half a second, I expected the famous Callaway temper.
Instead:
“You’re right.”
He handed me the photograph.
“Sorry.”
That frightened me more.
Tommy took Reed aside, but the room was too small for secrets.
“Daniel never mentioned Phoenix.”
“I know.”
“And the dates—”
“I know.”
Tommy lowered his voice.
“If she’s his…”
Reed’s expression shut him down.
I stepped forward.
“If Ava is his what?”
Neither answered.
“Tell me.”
Reed finally did.
“My father left control of several family assets to Daniel’s first legitimate child.”
I stared.
“First legitimate child?”
“Biological heir.”
“She’s a baby.”
“That doesn’t make the paperwork disappear.”
Money.
Of course.
Somewhere underneath every nightmare was money.
“How much?”
Reed hesitated.
“Enough that you should stop telling strangers Ava’s full name.”
My blood went cold.
Then the supply-room door opened.
Elena stood there.
“I’m sorry.”
Reed frowned.
“For what?”
Her eyes weren’t on him.
They were on Ava.
Before anyone could react, Elena grabbed the diaper bag from the shelf and ran.
Tommy went after her.
Reed swore and followed.
I stood frozen.
Then I realized what was missing.
Not formula.
Not diapers.
The photograph.
Elena had taken it.
And from the hallway, Reed shouted:
“LOCK THE RESTAURANT!”
May you like
A second later, the rear service door slammed.
Elena was gone.
