Chapter 2 - The Man Across the Street

Julian crossed the ballroom without looking back.

Albert followed.

So did I.

Emily Dawson.

Still twenty-nine.

Still a maid.

Still holding a tray nobody wanted anymore.

Outside, rain covered the street in silver.

The Grand Monarch Hotel stood opposite the estate.

Julian looked at the key in his hand.

Room 814.

Sophia came after him.

“Julian.”

He stopped.

“Don’t.”

She swallowed.

“I want to come.”

“No.”

“He’s my uncle.”

“And apparently my father.”

Sophia flinched.

Julian continued walking.

Albert looked at her.

“Let him hear the truth before the family edits it again.”

We crossed the street.

Room 814 was at the end of a quiet corridor.

Julian stood outside the door.

For several seconds, he did nothing.

Then he knocked.

The door opened.

Anthony Bell stood there.

Sixty-one.

Gray at the temples.

Lean.

A scar beneath his left eye.

Same dark eyes as Julian.

Same shape of jaw.

Same habit of tightening one hand when nervous.

Julian saw it.

Anthony saw him seeing it.

Neither spoke.

Finally:

“Julian.”

Julian’s face hardened.

“You know my name.”

Anthony gave a sad smile.

“I know almost everything they allowed the newspapers to print.”

Julian entered.

The room was simple.

One suitcase.

One jacket.

One folder on the desk.

And a box.

Anthony opened it.

Newspaper clippings.

Magazine profiles.

Business articles.

A photograph of Julian at sixteen.

Another at twenty-one.

Another at thirty.

Julian stared.

“You kept these?”

“Yes.”

“Why didn’t you contact me?”

Anthony looked toward Albert.

“I tried.”

Julian turned.

Albert nodded.

“Three times.”

“When?”

“Your eighteenth birthday.”

“Your twenty-fifth.”

“And six months ago.”

Julian looked at Anthony.

“What happened?”

Anthony answered:

“Your father stopped the first two.”

“Robert?”

“Yes.”

Julian’s jaw tightened.

“And six months ago?”

Anthony looked away.

“Sophia.”

Silence.

Julian stared at him.

“She stopped you.”

“Yes.”

“What did she say?”

Anthony hesitated.

Julian stepped closer.

“What did she say?”

“That meeting you would destroy both families.”

Julian laughed once.

“Convenient.”

Anthony shook his head.

“She was frightened.”

“That has become everyone’s favorite defense.”

Albert closed the hotel door.

Julian looked at Anthony.

“Start at the beginning.”

Anthony sat.

“Your mother was named Claire Russo before she married Robert.”

Julian frowned.

“Russo?”

“She and Robert were distant cousins through marriage.”

Anthony continued.

“She worked at Bell Financial.”

“That was where I met her.”

“You were together?”

“For almost two years.”

“Then why did she marry Robert?”

Anthony’s face changed.

“Because she thought I was dead.”

Julian stopped.

“What?”

Albert opened the folder.

Inside was another police report.

Anthony said:

“Michael had me arrested.”

“I know that.”

“No.”

Anthony looked at him.

“The arrest was only the beginning.”

Julian’s eyes narrowed.

Anthony continued.

“After I was released, I was taken.”

“By whom?”

“Men working for Michael.”

Sophia’s father.

Julian did not move.

Anthony spoke quietly.

“They beat me.”

“They drove me to a warehouse.”

“They told me Claire had chosen Robert.”

“I didn’t believe them.”

“So they showed me a letter.”

Julian asked:

“From my mother?”

“Yes.”

“What did it say?”

“That she never wanted to see me again.”

Anthony looked at Albert.

“Years later, I learned it was forged.”

Julian’s expression went cold.

“And my mother?”

“She received a different letter.”

“Saying what?”

“That I had died trying to flee the country.”

Albert handed Julian a photocopy.

Julian read it.

Then looked at Anthony.

“So both of you were lied to.”

“Yes.”

“By Michael?”

Anthony nodded.

“Robert knew too.”

Julian froze.

“My father helped?”

Anthony looked down.

“Yes.”

Julian turned away.

Rain hit the windows.

For thirty-four years, Robert Russo had been the only father Julian knew.

The man who taught him to drive.

The man who attended school meetings.

The man who gave him his first watch.

The man whose coffin Julian carried.

Julian looked back.

“Why?”

Anthony answered:

“Because Robert wanted Claire.”

“No.”

Julian shook his head.

“That isn’t enough.”

Anthony’s expression darkened.

“You’re right.”

Julian stepped closer.

“What else?”

Anthony opened the desk drawer.

He removed one photograph.

Claire.

Young.

Pregnant.

Standing beside Anthony.

And behind them:

Michael Bell.

Robert Russo.

A fourth man.

Julian recognized him immediately.

His late grandfather.

Dominic Russo.

Anthony said:

“Your birth was never just a family scandal.”

Julian looked at the photograph.

“What was it?”

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Anthony answered:

“A merger.”