Chapter 2 - My Mother Finally Admitted the Stalker Wasn't Following Me by AccidentMy mother locked the door.
Then she locked it again.
Vincent stood near the window.
His guards remained outside.
I sat on the couch.
My mother paced.
Finally, she stopped.
“There is something I need to tell you.”
I looked at her.
Vincent didn't say anything.
My mother took a breath.
“Your father isn't dead.”
I stared at her.
“What?”
She sat down.
“Your father is alive.”
I didn't understand.
She had told me my father died before I was born.
She had shown me a photograph.
She had cried when I asked questions.
“How?”
“He disappeared.”
“Why?”
“Because of the people he worked with.”
Vincent's eyes narrowed.
“What people?”
My mother looked at him.
“The Blackwood organization.”
Silence.
I looked at Vincent.
He didn't move.
“My father worked for you?”
“Not directly.”
My mother shook her head.
“He worked for Vincent's father.”
Vincent's expression became cold.
“What was his name?”
“Jonathan Bennett.”
Vincent froze.
I saw it.
For the first time since I met him, the frightening man looked genuinely shocked.
“You're Jonathan's daughter?”
I nodded.
He stared at me.
Then he looked at my mother.
“Why didn't you tell me?”
“Because Jonathan asked me not to.”
“Why?”
“He said your father was going to kill him.”
Vincent went silent.
“My father?”
“Victor Blackwood.”
I didn't understand.
Vincent did.
“My father died twelve years ago.”
“He was supposed to.”
My mother reached into a drawer.
She removed an envelope.
Inside was an old photograph.
Three men stood beside a black car.
One was my father.
One was a younger Victor Blackwood.
The third was a man I didn't recognize.
Vincent took the photograph.
His jaw tightened.
“That's Marcus Vale.”
“Who is he?” I asked.
Vincent stared at the picture.
“The man who betrayed my father.”
My mother whispered:
“He also betrayed your father.”
Vincent turned toward her.
“How do you know?”
“Because Jonathan told me.”
She opened another envelope.
Inside were letters.
Dates.
Names.
Bank records.
And photographs.
Vincent studied them.
His face became colder with every page.
“What happened to Jonathan?”
My mother began crying.
“He discovered that Victor was planning to take control of the organization.”
“So he ran.”
“He tried.”
“What happened?”
“He disappeared.”
Vincent looked at me.
“How old were you?”
“Seven.”
“No.”
He glanced at my mother.
“How old was she when Jonathan disappeared?”
My mother whispered:
“Six months.”
Vincent's expression changed.
He understood something.
I didn't.
“What?”
He knelt beside me.
“Leora.”
“Yes?”
“Does anyone at school know your father's name?”
I shook my head.
“My teacher.”
“Anyone else?”
“My counselor.”
“Your mother?”
“Yes.”
“Anyone from the police?”
I thought.
“The officer.”
“What officer?”
“The one who came to my school.”
Vincent stood.
“What's his name?”
“I don't know.”
My mother looked terrified.
“Why?”
“Because someone may have accessed school records.”
He turned toward the door.
“Call your people.”
One guard entered.
“Sir?”
“Find every employee at Ridgemont Elementary who accessed Leora's file in the last month.”
The guard nodded.
“And find the officer assigned to the school safety program.”
He paused.
“Alive?”
Vincent looked at him.
“I said find him.”
The guard left.
My mother whispered:
“What are you going to do?”
Vincent looked at her.
“Protect your daughter.”
“Why?”
He glanced at me.
“Because someone from my family's past has returned.”
Then he looked at the photograph.
“And because Jonathan Bennett once saved my life.”
I stared at him.
“My father saved you?”
Vincent nodded.
“Years ago.”
“How?”
He didn't answer immediately.
Finally, he said:
“When I was sixteen, someone tried to kill me.”
He looked at me.
“Your father took the bullet.”
I touched the photograph.
“And he lived?”
Vincent's silence was answer enough.
May you like
“No,” he said.
“He didn't.”
Related Stories
