Chapter 4 - THE LIE IN HIS EYES
Z
The gunshot came before Ethan answered.
I screamed.
Elena dropped.
Adrian spun toward the stained-glass window as it shattered behind him.
Ethan moved.
I had never seen anyone move that fast.
One second Adrian held the gun.
The next Ethan slammed him against a wooden pew.
Elena crawled toward me.
I grabbed her.
“Are you hit?”
“No.”
The church exploded into motion.
Men rushed through side doors.
Declan appeared from behind the altar.
Someone shouted.
Another gunshot cracked through the sanctuary.
Ethan dragged Adrian behind a stone column as bullets struck wood where they had been standing.
“Move!” Declan yelled.
I wrapped one arm around Elena and ran.
Outside, an SUV door stood open.
We dove inside.
“Where’s Ethan?”
“He’ll come.”
“No.”
“Rachel—”
“Where is he?”
Before Declan could answer, Ethan emerged from the church with blood running down his cheek.
He climbed into the SUV.
“Drive.”
The vehicle launched forward.
I stared at him.
“Are you hurt?”
“No.”
“You’re bleeding.”
“Glass.”
“Who fired?”
“Not ours.”
“So Adrian has enemies too?”
“He has a father.”
That answer somehow made everything worse.
Elena sat beside me shaking.
I took her hand.
“Tell me everything.”
She stared at Ethan.
“No.”
I squeezed.
“Elena.”
“I was trying to protect you.”
“By marrying a criminal?”
Her face crumpled.
“I didn’t know at first.”
“That seems to be a recurring problem in our family.”
She flinched.
Instant regret burned through me.
“I’m sorry.”
“No. You’re right.”
Elena looked down at her hands.
“I met Adrian two years ago. He was charming. He said his family owned development companies. Then six months ago, he asked me about Dad.”
“Why?”
“He found an old photograph.”
“The one from the hotel?”
She nodded.
“He recognized Dad.”
My gaze moved toward Ethan.
Elena continued.
“After that, everything changed. He started asking where Mom had taken you. Whether Dad gave you anything before you left Chicago.”
“And you told him about the medal.”
Her eyes filled with shame.
“I didn’t understand.”
I leaned back.
For eleven years, I blamed Elena for staying in Chicago.
She blamed me for leaving.
All that time, neither of us understood what our parents had done to keep us alive.
“Now tell me about Sophie.”
Silence.
Elena looked at Ethan again.
My anger flared.
“Why does everybody in this car know things about my life except me?”
Ethan spoke.
“Who was Sophie’s father?”
I laughed bitterly.
“You apparently know.”
“I know what Adrian believes.”
“His name was Daniel Mercer.”
Elena closed her eyes.
Ethan’s voice remained careful.
“What did Daniel tell you he did?”
“He was an accountant.”
“For?”
“A logistics company.”
“What company?”
“I don’t know. He traveled constantly.”
“How long were you together?”
“Eleven months.”
“And then?”
My throat tightened.
“He disappeared.”
“When?”
“Three weeks after I told him I was pregnant.”
Ethan looked out the window.
I hated him for that.
“Say it.”
He turned back.
“Daniel Mercer worked for Adrian Marconi.”
My body went cold.
“No.”
“He handled financial accounts in Los Angeles.”
“No.”
“Rachel—”
“He hated Chicago.”
“He lied.”
I swallowed.
“Is he alive?”
Nobody answered.
My voice broke.
“Is Daniel alive?”
Ethan’s eyes softened.
“No.”
For a moment, there was no sound except the tires beneath us.
“When?”
“Seven months ago.”
One month before Sophie was born.
“How?”
“He was killed.”
My lungs refused to work properly.
“I thought he left us.”
“He was trying to.”
I looked up.
“What?”
“Not you. Them.”
Ethan reached into his coat and removed his phone.
He opened a photograph.
Daniel stood outside a warehouse.
Same crooked smile.
Same brown hair.
Same man who rubbed my feet when they hurt during pregnancy.
The man who vanished after saying he needed cigarettes.
Except in the photograph, he stood beside Adrian Marconi.
“Daniel contacted me,” Ethan said.
“When?”
“Two weeks before he died.”
“Why?”
“He discovered Adrian was searching for Javier’s ledger.”
I stared at him.
“He knew who my father was?”
“Eventually.”
“And he knew about Sophie?”
“Yes.”
Something inside me shattered.
“So why didn’t you tell me?”
“I didn’t know you existed until tonight.”
I studied his face.
“You expect me to believe that?”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“Because if I’d known Daniel left behind a pregnant girlfriend carrying Javier Morales’s medal, you wouldn’t have been working double shifts at a diner.”
The words were arrogant.
Infuriating.
And somehow believable.
I wiped at my face.
“What did Daniel tell you?”
“That Adrian believed Javier created two copies of the ledger.”
“Two?”
“One digital. One physical.”
“Where’s the other one?”
“Nobody knows.”
Elena whispered, “I do.”
We both turned.
“What?”
She swallowed.
“Dad used to take us to that storage place near Cicero.”
Memory hit me.
Blue doors.
Candy from a vending machine.
Dad telling us to sit in the car.
“You remember?” Elena asked.
I nodded slowly.
“He had a unit.”
Ethan’s gaze sharpened.
“Where?”
“Cicero Avenue. I don’t remember the name.”
“I do,” Elena said.
An hour later, we stood inside a storage facility surrounded by Ethan’s guards.
Unit 317 opened with a key Elena had found among Mom’s belongings after she died.
Inside were boxes.
Tools.
Old clothes.
A broken television.
Nothing resembling a criminal empire’s darkest secrets.
Then I saw Dad’s toolbox.
I opened it.
Beneath a false bottom was a black notebook.
Ethan stared at it.
“Don’t touch it.”
I picked it up anyway.
“Rachel.”
“It’s my father’s.”
I opened the first page.
Numbers.
Names.
Dates.
Then, near the bottom, one name appeared repeatedly.
THOMAS CALLAHAN.
Ethan’s father.
Beside it was another.
PATRICK CALLAHAN.
Ethan’s uncle.
I looked up.
“Patrick?”
Ethan went completely still.
Elena whispered, “Who’s Patrick?”
“My father’s younger brother.”
“What happened to him?”
Ethan didn’t answer immediately.
Then:
“He disappeared the night my father died.”
My fingers tightened around the ledger.
A piece of paper slipped from between the pages.
On it was my father’s handwriting.
ETHAN—
IF YOU ARE READING THIS, I FAILED.
DO NOT TRUST PATRICK.
AND DO NOT LET HIM FIND MY DAUGHTERS.
A sound came from behind us.
Slow applause.
Every guard raised a weapon.
A man stood in the doorway.
Silver hair.
Expensive coat.
A smile almost identical to Ethan’s.
“My brother always did hire sentimental men.”
Ethan’s face became terrifyingly blank.
“Patrick.”
The supposedly missing Callahan smiled at me.
Then at Elena.
May you like
Finally at Ethan.
“Hello, nephew.”
