Chapter 8 - The Woman Who Refused to Stay DeadCatherine Hayes was living under the name Claire Morgan in a small town three hours north of New York City.
She did not plan to.
She did not imagine it on the elevator ride down.
She certainly did not expect herself to become the kind of person who hit someone during a reunion.
But the moment Daniel Hayes stood from the lobby chair and whispered, “Millie,” something inside her broke.
Her palm connected with his cheek.
The sound echoed.
Daniel did not move.
Detective Ortiz started forward.
Lucian raised one hand.
Wait.
Amelia’s entire body shook.
“You were dead.”
Daniel’s eyes filled.
“I know.”
“You were dead for eight years.”
“I know.”
“I buried you!”
His face crumpled.
“There wasn’t a body.”
“I KNOW THAT NOW!”
A receptionist quickly guided other residents away.
Amelia pointed at him.
“You don't get to call me Millie.”
Daniel lowered his gaze.
“All right.”
“You don't get to act hurt.”
“All right.”
“You don't get to stand there looking like my father when my father died eight years ago.”
Daniel swallowed.
“I’m sorry.”
Amelia laughed through tears.
“That’s pathetic.”
“Yes.”
His agreement infuriated her more.
She wanted excuses.
Something she could attack.
Instead, he simply stood there accepting every blow she threw with words.
Lucian remained near the wall.
Not interfering.
Not leaving.
Daniel finally said, “I came because you’re in danger.”
Amelia wiped her face.
“Everybody keeps saying that.”
“Gabriel knows who you are.”
“So do I, apparently.”
Daniel looked toward Lucian.
“You told her about Catherine?”
“Yes.”
Daniel closed his eyes.
Amelia stepped closer.
“Is she alive?”
His face answered first.
Amelia stopped breathing.
“Dad.”
Daniel’s eyes opened.
“She was when I last saw her.”
The room vanished.
“When?”
“Nineteen years ago.”
Amelia grabbed the edge of a chair.
“You told me she died when I was nine.”
“I had to.”
“Why?”
“Because Vincent Santoro believed she took the ledger.”
“Did she?”
Daniel looked at Lucian.
“No.”
Lucian’s expression sharpened.
“Alfonso did.”
Daniel nodded.
Amelia tried to understand.
“My mother found evidence.”
“Yes.”
“Your criminal friends wanted it.”
“They weren't my friends.”
“You worked for them.”
“Yes.”
“Stop giving me one-word answers!”
Daniel flinched.
Then began.
“I was twenty-six when I met Catherine. I was stupid, broke, and working deliveries for Santoro because the money was better than anything legal I could find.”
He sat.
“Your mother kept books for Eastland Freight. She was smarter than everybody in that office and too honest for the people who owned it.”
A faint smile appeared through the grief.
“She noticed numbers.”
“What numbers?”
“Containers arriving heavier than manifests showed. Payments to judges. Police. Inspectors.”
Lucian crossed his arms.
“And my father?”
“Alfonso had already stopped doing business with Vincent. Catherine approached him because she heard he wanted out.”
“Why trust him?”
Daniel laughed softly.
“She didn’t.”
That sounded like Amelia’s mother.
“She used him because he had enough power to keep her alive while she copied records.”
“What ledger?”
“A master ledger showing thirty years of payments.”
Lucian shook his head.
“My father never told me.”
“He was trying to protect you.”
“Everyone seems to love that excuse.”
Daniel looked at him.
“It kept you breathing.”
That ended the argument.
Amelia’s voice trembled.
“What happened to Mom?”
Daniel stared at his hands.
“Vincent learned she was cooperating.”
Amelia braced herself.
“I got her out.”
“To where?”
“I can't tell you.”
“Why not?”
“Because I still don't know whether Gabriel has compromised the program protecting her.”
Lucian stepped forward.
“She entered witness protection?”
“Yes.”
Amelia stared.
“Without me?”
Daniel’s face broke.
“She wanted you with her.”
“But?”
“The Marshals believed moving a child would expose the relocation.”
“That makes no sense.”
“It was 2007. Things were different. The network chasing her was bigger than anyone admitted.”
“So she left me with you.”
“For what was supposed to be six months.”
Amelia covered her mouth.
“Nineteen years.”
Daniel nodded.
“What happened?”
“Alfonso was killed.”
Lucian’s jaw tightened.
“Then the investigation collapsed,” Daniel continued. “People inside federal agencies were compromised. Catherine’s relocation became permanent.”
“And you?”
“I raised you.”
“While lying every day.”
“Yes.”
“Did she write?”
Daniel closed his eyes.
Amelia whispered, “Did she?”
“Yes.”
Her knees weakened.
“How many letters?”
“Hundreds.”
“Where are they?”
“Safe.”
“Why didn't you give them to me?”
“If you knew she lived, you could have told someone accidentally.”
Amelia stared.
“You made my mother dead so I couldn't betray a secret I didn't know.”
“Yes.”
She struck him again.
This time Daniel stumbled.
Lucian moved closer but still did not touch Amelia.
Daniel wiped blood from his lip.
“I deserved that.”
“Stop saying things like that.”
“Why?”
“Because it makes it harder to hate you.”
Daniel’s eyes filled.
“I never stopped being your father.”
“You aren't my father.”
He froze.
Amelia heard her own words.
Daniel looked down.
“No,” he whispered. “Not biologically.”
She frowned.
“What?”
Lucian straightened.
Ortiz stepped closer.
Amelia’s voice barely worked.
“Who is?”
Daniel looked terrified.
Not for himself.
For her.
“Dad.”
He whispered, “Alfonso Castellano.”
Silence consumed the room.
Lucian did not move.
Amelia turned toward him.
He looked equally stunned.
“No,” Lucian said.
Daniel faced him.
“Alfonso and Catherine had a relationship before she met me. Brief. Over before Amelia was born.”
Lucian’s face became unreadable.
“You're saying…”
Daniel nodded.
“She’s your sister.”
Amelia stared at Lucian.
Then at Daniel.
Then laughed.
Not because anything was funny.
Because reality had become absurd.
“No.”
Daniel pulled an envelope from his coat.
Inside was a DNA report.
Old.
Yellowed.
Lucian took it.
Read.
His hand trembled once.
Only once.
Amelia watched his eyes move across the page.
“What does it say?”
Lucian looked up.
The man everyone in Brooklyn feared suddenly looked lost.
“It says he’s telling the truth.”
Amelia sat down.
Her entire life rearranged itself in one sentence.
The man who had protected her.
The owner who knew her name.
The supposed mafia boss whose jacket she had worn out of the hospital.
Her brother.
Lucian turned toward Daniel.
“Did my father know?”
“Yes.”
“Why didn’t he tell me?”
“Because Vincent threatened Catherine and the baby.”
Amelia whispered, “Me.”
Daniel nodded.
“Alfonso planned to announce everything once Santoro was prosecuted.”
“But he died first.”
“Yes.”
Lucian looked away.
For twenty-two years, he had believed his father’s final secret involved money.
Power.
Crime.
Instead, it had been a child.
His sister.
Amelia.
A phone began ringing.
Daniel pulled out an old flip phone.
He looked at the number and went pale.
“What?”
He answered.
Said nothing.
A woman's voice came through the speaker.
Faint.
Shaking.
“David?”
Amelia stopped breathing.
Daniel whispered, “Catherine.”
Amelia gripped the table.
The woman continued.
“They found me.”
Then a crash sounded.
The line went dead.
And Amelia understood something terrible.
May you like
Her mother had survived nineteen years in hiding.
Only to be discovered the exact day Amelia learned she was alive.
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