Chapter 7
Vittorio locked the hospital from the inside.
Nobody left.
Nobody entered.
Elevators stopped.
Service doors sealed.
Bodyguards moved through corridors that had been built for doctors and nurses but belonged, tonight, to something older.
Family.
Loyalty.
Fear.
Dad watched through the glass.
“What are you doing?”
“Finding Mercer.”
“You'll scare everyone.”
Vittorio didn't even look at him.
“You already did.”
Mark sat near the wall.
He seemed smaller.
Every secret had taken something from him.
I felt no sympathy.
Not yet.
Maybe never.
Samuel came back with news.
The stolen newborn had been returned to his mother.
Safe.
Uninjured.
I cried for the first time that night.
Not loudly.
A few tears.
Because one thing had gone right.
Vittorio waited until Samuel finished.
“Mercer?”
“No confirmed location.”
Dad looked toward the door.
Too often.
Vittorio noticed.
“Where would he go?”
Dad said nothing.
Mark looked at him.
“You know.”
“No.”
“You always know more than you say.”
Dad turned.
“Enough.”
Mark laughed bitterly.
“You said that about Ethan too.”
My head lifted.
“What?”
Mark looked at me.
“Dad knew Mercer was watching Ethan.”
Dad's face hardened.
“When?”
“Before the crash.”
The room went silent.
“How long before?”
“Two weeks.”
My chest hurt.
Not the incision.
Something deeper.
“You knew someone was following my husband.”
Dad stared at Mark.
Then me.
“Mercer said he was being watched because Vittorio didn't trust him.”
Vittorio looked at Dad.
“And you believed that?”
“I believed enough.”
Enough.
That word.
Enough to stay quiet.
Enough to let Ethan drive alone.
Enough to stand at his funeral and know things no one had told him.
I looked at Dad.
“Did you know he was going to die?”
“No.”
The answer came instantly.
I believed it.
That almost made it worse.
He hadn't wanted Ethan dead.
He had simply made it easier for the people who did.
Samuel's radio crackled.
A bodyguard spoke quietly.
Then:
“Found him.”
Vittorio's eyes hardened.
“Location?”
“Old recovery wing.”
“Alive?”
“Yes.”
“Bring him.”
Dad stood.
“No.”
Every head turned.
Vittorio stared.
Dad looked frightened.
Not for Mercer.
For himself.
“You don't want him here.”
That was all Vittorio needed.
“Why?”
Dad said nothing.
Vittorio's voice lowered.
“What does Mercer know about you?”
Still nothing.
Then Mark whispered:
“Everything.”
Dad turned.
Mark didn't stop.
“He recorded the meetings.”
My father went white.
I stared at him.
“What meetings?”
Mark looked at me.
“Eight years of them.”
Vittorio's face changed.
Dad had not simply talked to Mercer.
Mercer had preserved it.
Every name.
Every exchange.
Every betrayal.
Dad looked toward the door as footsteps approached.
Then Cole Mercer entered.
And when he saw me holding Ethan's daughter while Noah slept beside me, he smiled.
“Emma.”
I had never met him.
That meant he had no reason to know me well enough to sound familiar.
He looked at Noah.
May you like
Then said something that made Vittorio move before anyone else could.
“He has Ethan's mouth.”
