Chapter 4 - THE HOUSE THAT WASN'T SAFE
We moved the children that night.
Not to my house.
Not to Grace's apartment.
To a private residence owned by a family friend outside the city.
I hated the idea.
Grace hated it more.
But after someone had entered the hospital wearing stolen credentials, we had no choice.
The house had security cameras, reinforced doors, and enough bedrooms for everyone.
For the first time in years, Grace and I were under the same roof.
It was uncomfortable.
Painfully so.
At midnight, I found her in the kitchen.
She was making tea.
“You still drink it without sugar,” I said.
She looked over.
“You remember?”
“I remember everything.”
She smiled sadly.
“No. You remember what you want to.”
I accepted that.
“How did you survive?”
She stared at the kettle.
“Work.”
“What did you do?”
“Whatever paid.”
“Three children.”
“Yes.”
“You could have asked me.”
Her eyes hardened.
“I did.”
I had no answer.
She continued.
“After the divorce, I moved to Milwaukee. Then Indianapolis. Then Chicago.”
“Why move so much?”
“Because people kept finding us.”
“Who?”
“Men working for your uncle.”
I felt my blood turn cold.
“You knew?”
“I knew someone was watching.”
“Why didn't you tell the police?”
She laughed without humor.
“Tell them what? That wealthy men were following me? I had no evidence.”
She placed the tea on the table.
“Then Noah got sick.”
“What happened?”
“He was born with a heart defect.”
I looked down.
“How serious?”
“Serious enough that every doctor wanted surgery immediately.”
“And you couldn't afford it.”
“No.”
I swallowed.
“Grace…”
“I sold everything.”
She looked at me.
“Everything except the children's photographs.”
My throat tightened.
“Why didn't you come to me?”
She looked away.
“Because your mother visited me in the hospital.”
I stared.
“What did she say?”
“She offered to pay for Noah's surgery.”
I felt relief.
Then Grace continued.
“For one condition.”
I already knew.
“She wanted custody.”
Grace nodded.
“I refused.”
“What happened?”
“She said if I refused, Noah would never receive treatment through the family network.”
I clenched my fists.
“That wasn't her decision.”
“She had influence.”
I looked at the floor.
“I should have known.”
“Yes.”
The simplicity of her answer hurt.
Then a small voice came from the doorway.
“Mommy?”
Noah stood there.
He was wearing dinosaur pajamas.
“What's wrong?”
“Nothing.”
He looked at me.
“Can Daddy read?”
I smiled.
“I can read.”
“Then come.”
He took my hand.
I followed him upstairs.
That night I read the same dinosaur book six times.
On the seventh, Noah fell asleep.
Emma joined us.
Then Lily.
The three children ended up asleep around me.
I looked at their faces.
My children.
I had spent three years believing I was grieving the loss of a marriage.
I had actually been grieving a family I never knew I had.
When I returned downstairs, Grace was sitting alone.
“You're good with them,” she said.
“I want to be.”
She looked at me.
“Ryan…”
“I know.”
“No. You don't.”
“What?”
She hesitated.
“There was a reason I never told you about the pregnancy.”
“What reason?”
She reached into a drawer.
Pulled out an envelope.
My name was written on it.
My handwriting.
I stared.
“What is that?”
“You wrote it.”
“I don't remember.”
“You wrote it six years ago.”
I opened it.
Inside was a photograph.
Grace.
Pregnant.
And beside her—
My father.
Alive.
My knees nearly gave out.
“My father died three years before our divorce.”
“I know.”
“Then why is he here?”
Grace looked at me.
“Because he wasn't dead.”
The room went silent.
I looked at the photograph again.
My father was standing behind Grace with one hand on her shoulder.
On the back of the photograph was a date.
Six years ago.
And three words.
Protect my grandchildren.
I stared at Grace.
“Where is he?”
She shook her head.
“I don't know.”
“Who took this?”
“Your father.”
“Then why did he disappear?”
May you like
Grace's voice dropped.
“Because he knew someone in your family wanted him dead.”
