Chapter 2 - The File With My NameThe Secret Someone Buried
Roman took me upstairs before I even understood what was happening.
The private dining floor of Laura had always been off-limits to staff.
I'd worked there for eleven months and had never been allowed past the velvet doors near the wine cellar.
Now Roman pushed those doors open himself.
The room beyond looked like a private office.
Dark wood.
Floor-to-ceiling windows.
A marble bar.
And photographs covering one entire wall.
Chicago skyline.
Buildings.
Business deals.
People in suits.
One photograph showed Roman standing beside a group of men at a ribbon-cutting ceremony.
There was a brass plaque beneath it.
ROMAN VALE.
My stomach tightened.
Roman Vale.
I knew the name.
Everyone in Chicago knew the name.
Vale Development owned hotels, office towers, restaurants, and private clubs.
But the man in the alley hadn't seemed like one of the richest developers in the city.
He had seemed like prey.
"Sit," he said.
"I need to get home."
"You will."
"My son has a fever."
"We'll get his medicine delivered."
I stared at him.
"I don't need charity."
"This isn't charity."
He sat across from me.
His men remained near the door.
"I need answers."
"About what?"
"How do you know my name?"
"I told you."
"No."
His gaze sharpened.
"I asked how you know my name."
I realized I had never told him my last name.
Before I could answer, one of his men entered carrying a thick gray file.
He placed it on the desk.
Roman didn't touch it.
"Open it."
The man opened the file.
I saw my name.
MEGAN BENNETT.
Underneath it was an old photograph.
Me.
Six years younger.
Standing outside a hospital.
Holding a newborn.
My hands started shaking.
"Where did you get that?"
Roman looked at me.
"That's what I'm trying to determine."
I grabbed the photograph.
My breath caught.
The baby wasn't Leo.
At least not the Leo I remembered.
The photograph had been taken immediately after I gave birth.
The baby's face was mostly hidden.
But I recognized the hospital blanket.
St. Joseph's.
Chicago.
The man flipped another page.
Medical records.
Birth registration.
Hospital correspondence.
Then a page with a red stamp.
CONFIDENTIAL.
"What is this?"
Roman leaned forward.
"You gave birth six years ago."
"Yes."
"You claimed the child's father was unknown."
I stared at him.
"My son's father left."
"That's not what the file says."
I felt something cold move through my chest.
"What does it say?"
Roman slid one document toward me.
There was a handwritten note.
Paternity results pending.
Then a second page.
TEST CANCELLED.
My fingers went numb.
"Who cancelled it?"
"We don't know."
"Why are you investigating my son?"
Roman didn't answer.
Instead, he removed another photograph.
This one showed a young man leaving a hospital.
I stared.
I knew him.
Not well.
But I knew him.
"That's Ethan."
Roman's eyes narrowed.
"My brother."
The room seemed to tilt.
"The father of your son?"
I said nothing.
Roman's expression hardened.
"Does Leo have Ethan's eyes?"
I thought of my son.
Those gray-green eyes.
The tiny scar above his eyebrow.
A habit of tilting his head when he was suspicious of something.
"I don't know."
It was a lie.
I knew.
Leo had Ethan's eyes.
But Ethan Vale had died five years ago.
A motorcycle accident.
Everyone had told me that.
Roman closed the file.
"Ethan was not in an accident."
I stared at him.
"What?"
"He was murdered."
The word landed like a physical blow.
"That's impossible."
"It was ruled an accident because someone paid for it to be ruled an accident."
My mouth went dry.
"Why would anyone kill him?"
Roman looked at the folder.
"That's what I've spent five years trying to learn."
One of his men entered again.
He leaned toward Roman and whispered.
Roman immediately stood.
"What?"
"The surveillance team found something."
He walked toward the window.
I followed.
"What did they find?"
He turned.
"Someone has been monitoring your apartment."
My heart stopped.
"What?"
"Three times this month."
"Why?"
"Unknown."
"How do you know?"
"Because the man watching you made one mistake."
Roman handed me a photograph.
It showed a dark sedan parked across from my apartment.
The timestamp was clear.
Two nights earlier.
Through the windshield, a man was watching my building.
Even from the grainy image, I recognized his face.
David Kesler.
My former manager.
I couldn't breathe.
Roman saw the recognition immediately.
"You know him."
"He was my manager."
"Did he ever ask about your son?"
I shook my head.
Then I remembered.
Three weeks earlier, David had made a strange comment while I was leaving work.
You really should be careful about who you trust around that boy.
At the time, I thought he was talking about Leo's babysitter.
Now I wasn't so sure.
Roman picked up his phone.
"Where are you taking me?"
"Home."
"I don't want an armed escort."
"You'll have one anyway."
"What about my job?"
Roman gave me a strange look.
"I suspect your job is the least important thing you're about to lose."
My stomach dropped.
Then his phone rang.
He answered.
Listened.
And said only one sentence.
"Lock down the building."
He hung up.
"What happened?"
Roman looked at me.
"The man who stabbed me wasn't trying to kill me."
"Then what was he trying to do?"
His jaw tightened.
"He was trying to get something out of me."
"What?"
Roman stared at the file containing my son's records.
May you like
Then he said:
"Your son."
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