Chapter 7 - THE DEAD MAN IN THE FAMILY PORTRAIT
For several seconds, nobody spoke.
Then Vincent took the phone from my hand.
"Adrian, my name is Vincent Moretti."
"Of course it is. I've spent the last hour reading about you."
"I understand you have questions."
"I have a lot of them. The first is why a man I've never met is suddenly claiming my mother was married to someone else."
"She wasn't."
"Then what exactly are you telling me?"
Vincent looked at the photograph on the table.
"That my father may have hidden your birth from the world."
Adrian laughed without humor.
"Convenient story."
"I wouldn't expect you to believe me. But there are records, witnesses, and a nurse who can explain what happened."
"Then send them."
"We will."
"And don't call me your son."
The line went dead.
Vincent stared at the phone.
I could see the pain in his expression, but I didn't feel sorry for him.
Not yet.
Adrian had grown up without knowing his mother. He had been denied the truth about his birth, and now strangers were asking him to accept an entirely new identity.
He had every right to be angry.
"We need to meet him in person," I said.
Vincent nodded.
"Agreed."
Before we could arrange anything, Daniel called.
"Sir, there's a problem."
"What?"
"Sophia has disappeared with Noah."
Vincent's face hardened.
"Where?"
"Her house is empty. Her phone is off. The staff say she left with two suitcases last night."
"Did she leave a message?"
"No. But she withdrew a substantial amount of money from the account you established for Noah."
Vincent closed his eyes.
He had funded that account because he believed he was protecting a child.
Now he wondered whether the money had been used to protect a secret.
"Find her," he ordered.
Then he stopped himself.
"Legally. Contact her attorney. Notify the appropriate authorities if Noah may be in danger. No threats, no private men searching houses."
Daniel sounded surprised.
"Yes, sir."
When Vincent ended the call, I studied him.
"You sound different."
"I've been thinking about what you said."
"Which part?"
"That our child isn't something I own."
He rubbed his face.
"I spent my life believing that if I controlled every variable, nothing could hurt me. My father taught me that. He controlled the family, the business, even the truth about my mother."
"And you became him."
The words landed hard.
Vincent looked down.
"Yes."
I hadn't expected him to agree so quickly.
He continued, "I told myself that protecting you meant making decisions for you. I told myself that keeping Sophia close was about loyalty. I told myself that children could wait because I was too busy building an empire."
He looked at me.
"But none of those excuses changed what I did to you."
I wanted to believe him.
That frightened me more than his anger ever had.
The next morning, we flew to Boston.
Adrian agreed to meet us at a private conference room in the hospital where he worked. He arrived wearing blue scrubs beneath a dark jacket, his expression guarded.
When he saw Vincent, he stopped in the doorway.
For a moment, the resemblance between Adrian and Catherine was undeniable.
Vincent stood slowly.
"I brought the original records."
Adrian didn't sit.
"I brought a DNA kit."
Vincent looked at him.
"That's fair."
Adrian placed a sealed package on the table.
"We'll test the relationship before I listen to anything else."
"Agreed."
"And I want the truth about my mother. Not the version your family tells at funerals."
Vincent nodded.
"You deserve that."
Adrian finally sat down.
I watched him study Vincent, searching for something he could recognize in a stranger's face.
Then Adrian turned to me.
"Why are you involved?"
"Because my father helped conceal your birth."
His expression changed.
"Your father?"
I showed him the notebook entry.
He read it in silence.
When he finished, he looked at me with something close to disbelief.
"Your father visited me when I was seventeen."
My heart stopped.
"What?"
"I was in the hospital after a car accident. An older man came to see me. He said he knew my biological mother."
"Did he give you a name?"
"No. He said the truth would put me in danger, and that I should forget he'd ever been there."
Adrian looked at Vincent.
"He was wearing a ring with this crest."
He pointed to Vincent's hand.
Vincent removed his signet ring and placed it on the table.
Adrian stared at it.
"Then he knew exactly who I was."
A nurse knocked and entered with an envelope.
"Dr. Cole, this was left at the front desk for you."
Adrian opened it.
Inside was a single sheet of paper.
Three sentences had been typed in black ink.
Your mother did not die in an accident.
Your father did not die before you were born.
And Vincent Moretti is not the man you should be afraid of.
Adrian looked up.
"Who delivered this?"
The nurse shook her head.
"He left before anyone could stop him."
Vincent took the paper.
At the bottom was a handwritten signature.
May you like
Richard Vale.
The attorney who had supposedly been dead for three years.
