Chapter 2 - THE NAME IN THE ENVELOPE
The woman’s name was Sophia Hale.
Her son was Gabriel.
Six days old.
Roman sat across from her at the kitchen island while she fed the baby with shaking hands.
He didn’t push.
Not yet.
Sophia looked like one hard question might make her bolt.
“Who wants Gabriel?” Roman finally asked.
“I don’t know.”
“That answer gets people killed.”
She looked up sharply.
“So does trusting the wrong person.”
Roman almost smiled.
Almost.
“You know who I am.”
“I know what people say.”
“Which part?”
“That you make problems disappear.”
Roman leaned back.
“And yet you chose my building.”
Sophia looked at Gabriel.
“I was told it was the only place they’d hesitate.”
“Who told you?”
She didn’t answer.
Roman reached for the brown envelope.
Sophia moved fast.
“Don’t.”
He paused.
“Why?”
“Because once you open everything in there, you don’t get to pretend this has nothing to do with you.”
“It stopped having nothing to do with me when someone photographed me through my office window.”
He opened the envelope.
Inside were hospital forms.
Handwritten numbers.
Two flash drives.
And one sealed report.
PATERNITY ANALYSIS — CONFIDENTIAL.
Sophia stood.
“Roman.”
He tore it open.
“Don’t.”
His eyes moved down the page.
Then stopped.
He read it again.
A muscle jumped in his jaw.
“This is impossible.”
Sophia stared.
“What?”
Roman looked at her.
“Who is Gabriel’s father?”
“I knew him as Daniel Mercer.”
“Describe him.”
Her expression tightened.
“Why?”
“Just do it.”
“Dark hair. Gray eyes. Tall.”
Roman’s fingers tightened around the paper.
“Anything else?”
“A scar under his chin.”
Roman went still.
Sophia noticed.
“What?”
“Left-handed?”
Her face changed.
“Yes.”
Roman stood so suddenly the stool scraped across the floor.
Sophia took a step back.
“Roman?”
His eyes dropped to the report again.
The name printed under PATERNAL MATCH was:
VINCENT CALLAWAY.
Roman’s younger brother.
The brother Roman had watched lowered into the ground eleven years ago.
Sophia stared at him.
“Who is Vincent?”
Roman’s voice barely worked.
“My brother.”
She shook her head.
“No.”
“He died eleven years ago.”
“No. Daniel was alive last year.”
Roman looked at Gabriel.
Then at the report.
Then back at Sophia.
Before he could speak, her phone vibrated.
Unknown number.
A picture appeared.
Roman.
Sophia.
Gabriel.
Standing in the ninth-floor apartment.
Taken through the window.
Seconds ago.
Beneath it:
YOU SHOULD HAVE LEFT THE BABY.
Another message arrived.
ASK ROMAN WHO REALLY DIED ELEVEN YEARS AGO.
Sophia slowly raised her eyes.
Roman had gone pale.
Then the phone rang.
Roman answered.
A man’s voice came through.
Low.
Calm.
Familiar.
“Hello, brother.”
Roman stopped breathing.
Sophia whispered, “Who is it?”
May you like
Roman stared at the phone.
“Vincent?”
