Chapter 10
Nathan told me about my father.
Not the version Martin knew.
The part he had inherited from his own father.
Vincent survived the roadside ambush long enough to call the estate.
Nathan’s father answered.
My father asked for me.
I was twenty-four.
I was in the building.
Nobody told me.
I stared at Nathan.
“My father called me?”
“Yes.”
My mother closed her eyes.
I looked at her.
“You knew.”
She said nothing.
Nathan continued.
“Vincent said he wanted Caleb.”
His voice roughened.
“My father asked Evelyn.”
I could barely hear anything beyond my own pulse.
“And?”
Nathan looked toward my mother.
“She said no.”
Maya touched my arm.
I did not react.
“What exactly did she say?”
Nathan swallowed.
“That if Vincent wanted his son, he should have treated the family better while he had the chance.”
Silence.
My mother finally spoke.
“He was dying.”
“You didn’t know that.”
“I knew enough.”
“You kept me from hearing his voice.”
“He would have filled your head with rage.”
I almost laughed.
“And this is better?”
Evelyn’s face hardened.
“He would have turned you against me.”
There.
At last.
Not family.
Not stability.
Not Nathan.
Her.
Everything eventually returned to her.
My father’s last request had been denied because it might have weakened her hold over me.
For nine years she let me believe he died without asking for his son.
I had resented him for that.
Quietly.
Shamefully.
I thought his final thoughts had belonged to the organization.
That wound had shaped me.
She knew.
And she kept it because it made me easier to control.
Maya saw my face.
“Caleb.”
I stood.
Everyone around the patio tensed.
I walked past my mother.
Past Nathan.
Past the captains.
Straight to the open shed.
The moving blanket still lay inside.
I stared at it.
Three days earlier Maya had been thrown beneath it.
Nine years earlier my father had asked for me while another person controlled whether his voice reached mine.
Same method.
Different room.
Keep people apart.
Then explain the absence.
I turned back.
“My father did not die thinking I chose the family over him.”
My mother said nothing.
I continued.
“You made me think he did.”
For the first time, Evelyn looked uncertain.
Good.
May you like
Because the one thing she had always relied on was knowing which wound belonged to which person.
Now I finally knew who had put mine there.
