Chapter 5 - Olivia’s Confession Destroyed Her Own Son
Julian asked to see his mother alone.
Olivia refused.
“I don’t think that’s good for you.”
He stared at her from the hospital bed.
“Then get out.”
She froze.
“I am your mother.”
“And I am your son, not your hostage.”
I was not supposed to hear the conversation.
Neither was Ethan.
But Julian had asked us to stay in the family room next door because, in his words, “I need to know I can walk out afterward and still have people.”
The sentence broke something inside me.
Olivia went into his room at 4:20 that afternoon.
She came out forty-seven minutes later looking twenty years older.
Julian did not speak to anyone for almost an hour.
Then he asked for Ethan.
Not Alexander.
Not me.
Ethan entered alone.
Later, he told me what happened.
Julian had asked one question.
“Did you hate me when you found out?”
Ethan sat beside the bed.
“No.”
“Why not?”
“Because you didn’t cheat on anyone.”
Julian laughed once.
“My mother said you would try to turn me against her.”
“I don’t need to.”
Julian looked at him.
“She admitted it.”
Ethan went still.
“What?”
“The glass. The security call. Everything.”
“Did she tip off the attackers?”
“She says no.”
“Do you believe her?”
“I don’t know.”
Julian stared at his hands.
“She said she wanted my father to prove he would choose her over your mother.”
Ethan said nothing.
“She cut her own palm. She called security away. She told Dad someone had threatened her. Then your mother called.”
His voice cracked.
“My dad looked at the phone.”
Ethan’s expression hardened.
Julian continued.
“He saw Claire’s name.”
“And?”
“My mother begged him not to answer.”
Ethan looked away.
Julian’s eyes filled with tears.
“She told him if he answered, she would leave forever.”
Ethan closed his eyes.
“And Alexander chose her.”
“Yes.”
The pain in Julian’s voice was strange.
He was not defending his father.
He was grieving him.
Grieving the man he had thought Alexander was.
“What happened when the hospital called?” Ethan asked.
Julian wiped his face.
“My mother says Dad went white. She told him Claire was always dramatic. She said if it were serious, someone else would handle it.”
Ethan stood so suddenly the chair scraped the floor.
Julian flinched.
Ethan turned away.
For a moment, he could not speak.
Then Julian whispered, “I’m sorry.”
Ethan faced him.
“You don’t apologize for them.”
“I exist because of them.”
“So do I.”
Julian stared at him.
Ethan continued.
“Neither of us owes an apology for being born.”
That was when Julian cried.
Not quietly.
Not with dignity.
He covered his face and sobbed.
Ethan sat beside him.
He did not hug him immediately.
They were not there yet.
But he stayed.
Sometimes staying is the first form of love.
Ethan remained beside Julian for another hour.
Eventually Julian stopped crying.
He stared toward the dark television screen.
“Tell me something normal.”
Ethan frowned.
“What?”
“Anything. I am tired of every conversation being about affairs, miscarriages, secret sons, and attempted murder.”
Ethan thought.
“I failed my first driving test.”
Julian turned his head.
“You?”
“Yes.”
“How?”
“I hit a cone.”
“That’s it?”
“Three cones.”
Julian laughed.
Ethan continued.
“Mom made me drive home.”
“After you failed?”
“She said humiliation builds character.”
From the hallway, I called, “It does.”
Both of them looked at me.
Julian smiled.
“Okay. My turn. I got kicked out of boarding school for two days.”
Ethan stared.
“For what?”
“Technically, unauthorized use of the chemistry lab.”
“What did you make?”
“Smoke.”
“That is not chemistry.”
“There was a small explosion.”
Ethan sighed.
“You are exactly what I expected a Mafia boss’s son to be.”
Julian’s smile disappeared.
Ethan saw it immediately.
“Hey. Bad joke.”
“No. It’s fine.”
“It wasn’t.”
Julian looked at him.
“I spent my whole life trying not to be him.”
“Alexander?”
“Yes.”
“I studied finance because he wanted business. I refused his companies because I knew some of them were dirty. I moved downtown because I didn’t want to live behind gates.”
He swallowed.
“And now I find out my mother built my childhood on lies too.”
Ethan was quiet.
Julian continued.
“I feel stupid.”
“You were a kid.”
“I’m not anymore.”
“You were a son.”
Julian frowned.
“What is that supposed to mean?”
“It means we believe our parents longer than we believe almost anyone else.”
Julian stared at him.
Ethan looked toward me.
“Some of us get lucky.”
My eyes filled.
Julian followed his gaze.
Then he asked, “Do you think your mom hates me?”
“No.”
“How do you know?”
“Because she brought you soup.”
Julian blinked.
“What?”
I entered the room holding the container I had carried from home.
“You are supposed to be on soft food.”
Julian stared.
“You cooked for me?”
“I cooked for Ethan. There was extra.”
Ethan smirked.
“Lie.”
I glared at him.
Julian looked down at the container.
His eyes filled again.
“Oh, no,” I said. “We are done crying for at least twenty minutes.”
He laughed through the tears.
“Yes, ma’am.”
Something softened inside me.
I had no responsibility to love Olivia’s child.
But Julian was not only Olivia’s child.
He was himself.
The next morning, Julian asked me a question while Ethan was making coffee.
“Do you hate my mother?”
I did not answer immediately.
He watched me carefully.
“You can say yes.”
“I know.”
“Do you?”
I looked through the hospital window at the gray Chicago morning.
“I hated what she did.”
“That’s not what I asked.”
“No.”
He waited.
I turned toward him.
“I don’t know if hate is the right word anymore.”
Julian frowned.
“How can it not be?”
“Because hate requires attention.”
He stayed silent.
“For years, your mother occupied a room in my head she did not pay rent for. I replayed conversations. Wondered when she started lying. Wondered whether she laughed at me after leaving my house.”
Julian looked down.
“I am sorry.”
“Don’t apologize for her.”
He nodded.
I continued.
“One day I realized she had already taken seven years from my marriage. I wasn’t going to give her the next twenty-five voluntarily.”
“So you forgave her?”
“No.”
His eyes lifted.
“Then what did you do?”
“I stopped making my peace dependent on her punishment.”
Julian absorbed that.
“Is that what you want me to do?”
“No.”
“Why not?”
“Because you are allowed to arrive at your own answer.”
His mouth trembled.
“I still love her.”
“I know.”
“I’m angry that I do.”
“Don’t be.”
“She hurt you.”
“Yes.”
“She lied to me.”
“Yes.”
“She may have helped cause your miscarriage.”
My chest tightened.
“Yes.”
He looked ashamed.
“And I still love her.”
I leaned closer.
“Julian, loving someone who failed you does not make you disloyal to the people they hurt.”
His eyes filled.
“It just means they mattered to you before you knew everything.”
He whispered, “Thank you.”
I shook my head.
“Do not thank me for allowing you to love your mother.”
A weak smile touched his face.
“Ethan says you do that.”
“Do what?”
“Make people feel better, then yell at them for thanking you.”
“That sounds like him.”
“It sounds like you.”
For the first time, the resemblance between my sons had nothing to do with Alexander.
It came from the life they were building together.
A young man whose life had just split open.
I understood that feeling.
Maybe too well.
Later, when Ethan stepped into the hall, he found Alexander leaning against the wall.
“You were listening,” Ethan said.
Alexander did not deny it.
“I heard enough.”
“Then you heard Julian say he spent his life trying not to be you.”
Alexander looked toward the room.
“Yes.”
“Does that hurt?”
“More than being shot.”
Ethan crossed his arms.
“Good.”
Alexander almost smiled.
“Your bedside manner is excellent.”
“I save it for people I like.”
For the first time, Alexander looked amused rather than wounded by the rejection.
“Then I will consider this progress.”
Ethan rolled his eyes.
But he did not walk away.
That was progress too.
When Ethan finally came out, Alexander was waiting.
He rose from the chair.
“How is he?”
Ethan stared at him.
“Do you really want the answer?”
“Yes.”
“He is twenty-five years old, recovering from a near-fatal accident, and he just learned his mother injured herself on purpose so you would ignore your pregnant wife.”
Alexander’s face emptied.
Ethan took another step.
“He learned you saw Mom calling.”
Alexander closed his eyes.
“He learned Olivia asked you not to answer.”
Alexander’s shoulders dropped.
“And he learned you agreed.”
I watched my former husband absorb the full shape of his own memory.
“Yes,” he whispered.
Ethan’s voice shook.
“You knew she was pregnant.”
“Yes.”
“You knew she had been having cramps.”
“Yes.”
“You knew she was scared.”
“Yes.”
“And you still didn’t answer.”
Alexander looked at me.
I hated the tears in his eyes.
Not because they were false.
Because they were real.
Twenty-five years late.
“I thought if it were serious, security would call.”
“They did.”
“I know.”
“After she fell.”
“I know.”
“After the baby was gone.”
Alexander covered his face with one hand.
“I know.”
Ethan’s voice dropped.
“Then stop saying you didn’t know.”
Alexander looked at him.
“You didn’t know the outcome. But you knew enough to make the right choice.”
He pointed toward me.
“You just didn’t make it.”
Alexander nodded.
“No excuse.”
“No.”
“No excuse.”
That mattered.
More than I wanted it to.
Olivia appeared at the end of the hallway.
Her eyes were swollen.
Alexander turned toward her.
She stopped walking.
“I told him,” she said.
“Everything?”
“Yes.”
“Did you tell him about the guards?”
“Yes.”
“Did you tell him about the code?”
“Yes.”
“Did you call the nightclub?”
“No.”
Alexander stared at her.
“I swear.”
“Do not swear to me.”
Her face broke.
“I did not know anyone would go to Claire’s house. I wanted you with me. That is all.”
“That is not all.”
“I know.”
“You knew she was pregnant.”
“Yes.”
“You knew she was scared.”
“Yes.”
“You knew she was vulnerable.”
“Yes.”
“And you removed her security.”
Olivia began crying.
“I wanted one night where you chose me without running back to her.”
I laughed.
Every head turned.
“One night?”
Olivia looked at me.
“You had seven years.”
Her mouth trembled.
“You sat in my kitchen. You held my baby clothes. You watched me cry after I lost that child, and you still went back to my husband.”
“I was ashamed.”
“No. Shame makes you stop.”
I stepped closer.
“You were afraid of being caught. That is different.”
She lowered her head.
Alexander spoke.
“Did you ever call my enemies?”
“No.”
“Did anyone know you were moving the guards?”
“I don’t know.”
“Who knew the authorization phrase?”
“No one except me.”
Alexander’s face changed.
“What?”
“I never told anyone.”
“Then how did the attackers know Claire’s house was exposed?”
“I don’t know.”
A new voice came from behind us.
“I might.”
We turned.
Matteo Russo stood near the elevators.
He looked older than the last photograph I had seen of him, but his eyes were sharp.
Alexander’s former security chief carried a black leather folder.
“What are you doing here?” Alexander asked.
“Finishing a job I should have finished twenty-five years ago.”
He opened the folder.
“There was one name we never put in the official report.”
Alexander’s expression hardened.
“Why?”
“Because your father ordered us not to.”
My stomach tightened.
Matteo looked at Olivia.
Then at Alexander.
“The man who received the information about the unguarded house was not one of your enemies.”
May you like
He paused.
“He worked for you.”
