Chapter 2 - The Husband Who Had Been Hiding the Truth
I did not speak for the rest of the drive.
Roman’s statement replayed in my head until it stopped sounding like a sentence and started sounding like a warning.
My father.
The man I had believed was dead.
The man my mother refused to discuss.
The man whose photograph disappeared from our apartment when I was fourteen.
The man whose name I had stopped asking about because every question made my mother cry.
“You should have told me,” I whispered.
Roman did not argue.
“Yes.”
That simple answer angered me more than an excuse would have.
“You knew about my father?”
“I suspected.”
“You suspected?”
He looked at me.
“I had confirmation three weeks ago.”
I laughed once.
It sounded bitter.
“And you thought I didn't deserve to know?”
“I thought you deserved to be safe first.”
“Those are not the same thing.”
“No.”
He lowered his eyes.
“They are not.”
We arrived at the townhouse on East Seventy-Second Street.
The staff had been preparing for dinner, but Roman canceled everything.
No guests.
No business associates.
No private chef.
No reporters.
Nothing.
He ordered the gates sealed.
The second we walked inside, Arthur was waiting with a folder.
I stared at it.
“What's inside?”
Arthur looked at Roman.
Roman nodded.
Arthur handed it to me.
The first page contained a name.
Gabriel Mercer.
My father's name.
Underneath was a photograph.
I knew the face immediately.
Older.
Harder.
But unmistakable.
My knees almost gave out.
Roman caught my elbow.
“That’s him.”
I stared at the photo.
“My father.”
“Yes.”
The next page contained a corporate logo.
Vale International.
Another.
Vale Foundation.
Another.
Federal investigation.
My confusion deepened.
“What does he have to do with your family?”
Roman answered quietly.
“My grandfather believed your father stole from him.”
“Did he?”
“No.”
I looked up.
“Then why was he accused?”
Roman was silent.
Arthur stepped in.
“Because someone wanted both families to destroy each other.”
I turned toward him.
“Who?”
“We don't know yet.”
Arthur opened another file.
“Your father worked for Roman’s grandfather as an accountant and private financial strategist. He discovered a network of shell companies moving money through charities and offshore trusts.”
“Whose money?”
Arthur looked at Roman.
Roman answered.
“The money belonged to members of my family.”
I frowned.
“That doesn’t make sense.”
“It wasn't my family's money originally.”
He paused.
“Someone had been stealing it from us.”
“And my father found out.”
“Yes.”
“What happened?”
Roman's expression hardened.
“He disappeared.”
My voice shook.
“And my mother?”
“She was threatened.”
I closed my eyes.
Suddenly I remembered things I had spent years trying to forget.
My mother locking the door three times every night.
My mother changing apartments without explanation.
My mother telling me not to answer the phone.
My mother burning letters in the kitchen sink.
And one sentence she had repeated whenever I asked about my father.
Never trust anyone who knows his name.
I opened my eyes.
“She knew.”
Roman nodded.
“She knew enough to be afraid.”
I looked down at the file.
“What does Trevor have to do with this?”
Arthur opened another folder.
“Trevor worked for a subsidiary controlled by someone named Victor Dane.”
I frowned.
“Victor Dane?”
Roman's face changed.
“You know the name?”
“No.”
“You have heard it before.”
I searched my memory.
Then I remembered an envelope.
A name printed on it.
Victor Dane.
My mother had thrown it away.
I looked at Roman.
“My mother knew him.”
Roman stood.
“Then we need to find your mother.”
“She died six years ago.”
His eyes softened.
“I know.”
That was when I realized something.
Roman knew far more about my life than I had ever told him.
I stared at him.
“How long have you been investigating me?”
He did not answer immediately.
Then he said, “Since the day I met you.”
My heart sank.
“Why?”
“Because you were never supposed to enter my life.”
I frowned.
“What does that mean?”
Roman looked at Arthur.
“Give us a minute.”
Arthur left.
Roman walked toward the window.
“Do you remember the first night we met?”
Of course I remembered.
A storm.
A broken elevator.
Me working late at the Vale residence after the previous housekeeper quit.
Roman returning from Europe unexpectedly.
The glass of water I dropped.
The way he had stared at me like he had seen a ghost.
“You looked at me like you knew me,” I said.
“I thought I did.”
“You didn’t.”
“No.”
He turned.
“I knew your father.”
My heartbeat accelerated.
“You knew him before I did.”
Roman nodded.
“He saved my life.”
I stared at him.
“What?”
“When I was nineteen, someone tried to kill me.”
Roman rarely spoke about his childhood.
I had always assumed his family fortune explained his guarded nature.
Apparently, it explained only part of it.
“Your father found me before the men did.”
“What happened?”
“He hid me in a warehouse for three days. He fed me, treated my injuries, and gave me a name that wasn't mine.”
I stared at him.
“Why?”
“Because my family had enemies.”
“Did my father work for them?”
“Not exactly.”
Roman walked closer.
“He knew the difference between loyalty and obedience.”
Something in his voice made me emotional.
“You loved him.”
Roman's gaze dropped.
“Yes.”
That single word hurt.
Because suddenly I understood why he had looked at me that way.
Why he had watched me.
Why he never asked for explanations when I made mistakes.
Why he had married me.
“Did you marry me because of him?”
Silence.
I felt my stomach twist.
“Roman.”
“Yes.”
My heart cracked.
He continued before I could speak.
“At first.”
I stepped backward.
“At first?”
“I thought protecting you would help me reach the people who destroyed your father.”
I swallowed.
“And now?”
He looked at me.
“Now I would burn every secret I have if it meant keeping you.”
I wanted to believe him.
I hated that I did.
My phone rang.
A number I did not recognize.
I almost ignored it.
Roman stopped me.
“Answer it.”
I did.
“Hello?”
A distorted voice spoke.
“Your husband is lying to you.”
My entire body went cold.
“Who is this?”
“You should ask him where your father really disappeared.”
The line went dead.
I looked at Roman.
He had heard enough.
“What did they say?”
I told him.
His jaw tightened.
Then the security alarm screamed.
Arthur's voice came over the intercom.
“Sir, we've lost visual on the east perimeter.”
Roman immediately moved.
“Stay here.”
“No.”
He looked at me.
“This is not a request.”
“I’m tired of being protected from my own life.”
His expression softened.
Then a gunshot exploded outside.
The staff screamed.
Arthur pulled the curtains closed.
Roman pushed me behind him.
Another shot.
Then another.
Arthur appeared at the doorway.
“Sir, there are two vehicles outside.”
Roman looked at me.
“Take her downstairs.”
Arthur stepped forward.
“No.”
I stared at him.
“I know how to hide.”
Roman shook his head.
“That is exactly the problem.”
Then a third shot shattered the glass above us.
Roman grabbed my hand.
“We're leaving.”
He pulled me toward the hidden elevator.
As the doors closed, I heard Arthur shouting orders.
We descended beneath the townhouse.
A private tunnel opened beneath the street.
I stared in disbelief.
“How long has this been here?”
“Long enough.”
We entered an underground garage.
Roman pushed me into another car.
As he drove, I asked the question I had been avoiding.
“Were they trying to kill me?”
Roman's silence answered.
Then his phone rang.
He put it on speaker.
Arthur's voice came through.
“Sir, we found something.”
“What?”
“The intruders weren't trying to enter.”
Roman's hands tightened on the wheel.
“What were they doing?”
“They left a message.”
“What message?”
Arthur hesitated.
“Your wife is not the last Mercer.”
Roman stopped breathing.
I stared at him.
“What does that mean?”
Arthur continued.
“There is another surviving member of her father’s family.”
“Who?”
Arthur said a name.
“Evelyn Mercer.”
I frowned.
“I don't know her.”
Roman looked at me.
“That is because she has been hiding under another name for seventeen years.”
“Why?”
Arthur answered.
“Because she is your father's daughter.”
My heart stopped.
“Then who am I?”
May you like
No one answered.
And for the first time in my life, I wondered whether the story my mother told me about my family had been a lie from beginning to end.
