Chapter 7 - The Callahan Lie
Caleb laughed first.
It sounded almost hysterical.
“You’re lying.”
Vincent held up a file.
“Am I?”
Roman remained terrifyingly calm.
“Open the doors.”
“No.”
“Then this ends badly.”
“It already ended badly thirty-eight years ago.”
Vincent claimed Sebastian Callahan had been infertile.
Roman and Caleb had different biological fathers.
Their mother, Isabella, carried secrets Sebastian protected to preserve the family name.
Roman’s biological father was supposedly a rival crime figure Sebastian later eliminated.
Caleb’s father was unknown.
“Why should we believe you?” Caleb demanded.
“You shouldn’t.”
Vincent smiled.
“That’s why I kept the evidence.”
Roman looked at me.
Not Vincent.
Me.
“Stay behind the column.”
I understood.
Vincent wanted emotional chaos.
Roman refused to give it to him.
Then Roman’s security chief cut auxiliary power.
The electronic locks released.
Vincent vanished.
We recovered the file he left behind.
DNA reports.
Birth records.
Photographs.
Maybe real.
Maybe fabricated.
But one photograph mattered.
Isabella Callahan holding newborn Caleb.
Beside her stood my mother.
I almost dropped it.
“My mother?”
Roman stared at me.
“You know her?”
“Of course I know her.”
My mother, Laura Parker, died when I was nineteen.
She had been a pediatric nurse.
Or that was what she told me.
On the photograph’s back:
Laura knows the truth.
My hands began shaking.
Caleb looked equally stunned.
“You never showed me pictures of her.”
“You never asked.”
Roman took the photograph.
“Vincent knew who you were before Caleb met you.”
I felt sick.
Caleb and I had supposedly met by accident when my car broke down outside his garage.
Maybe it wasn’t an accident.
Then Roman’s phone rang.
His housekeeper.
He answered immediately.
His face changed.
“What happened?”
I grabbed his arm.
“Lily?”
The housekeeper was crying.
The guards were still there.
Nobody had broken in.
But Lily was gone.
My legs nearly collapsed.
Roman caught me.
“How?”
A nursery window was open.
No forced entry.
On Lily’s bed sat a white envelope.
Roman ordered every road, airport, private hangar, and train station watched.
Then the housekeeper sent a photograph of the note.
Only six words:
Bring Laura Parker’s daughter to me.
Caleb stared at me.
Roman’s eyes became cold.
“This was never about Lily.”
I could barely breathe.
“Then why take her?”
“To control you.”
“Why me?”
Roman looked again at the photograph of my mother standing beside Isabella.
“Because your mother knew who Caleb’s father was.”
I shook my head.
“She’s dead.”
May you like
Roman’s expression did not change.
“So was Caleb.”
