Chapter 3 - The Mother Who Kept the Second Secret

Christian stared at the photograph.

His mother.

His missing father.

Together.

Four years ago.

He looked at Beatrice.

“She knew.”

“Yes.”

“For six years.”

“Yes.”

“And told me he was gone.”

“Yes.”

Christian stood.

Then sat again.

He laughed once.

Nothing about it was funny.

“Everyone.”

Beatrice lowered her head.

“Everyone decided.”

“Yes.”

“Why?”

“Your father asked her.”

Christian stopped.

“He asked Mom to lie to me.”

“Yes.”

“Why?”

Beatrice reached into the file.

A handwritten note.

Christian recognized his mother’s handwriting.

He read.

CHRISTIAN MUST NOT KNOW UNTIL EDMUND SHAW IS NO LONGER ABLE TO REACH HIM.

Christian looked up.

“Shaw.”

“Yes.”

“The old partner.”

“Yes.”

“He was at my engagement ball.”

Beatrice nodded.

Christian’s face hardened.

“So whatever danger existed did not disappear.”

“No.”

“Then why was he invited?”

Beatrice looked uncomfortable.

“Martin.”

Christian stared.

“Of course.”

“He wanted Shaw where he could see him.”

“At my engagement.”

“Yes.”

Christian laughed bitterly.

“Romantic.”

Beatrice continued.

“Your mother agreed to keep your father’s return secret because Shaw still had people around you.”

“For six years?”

“At first.”

Christian looked at her.

“Stop.”

She stopped.

He continued.

“No more ‘at first.’”

Beatrice nodded.

Christian read the note again.

“Why did Mom keep lying after the danger changed?”

Beatrice looked at him.

“Because your father asked her to.”

“Why?”

“He believed you hated him.”

Christian stared.

“Who told him that?”

Beatrice did not answer.

Christian already knew.

“Martin.”

She looked away.

Christian closed his eyes.

Then:

“And Alessandra?”

“She learned one year ago.”

“From Martin.”

“Yes.”

Christian nodded slowly.

The pattern became obvious.

Every lie led back to the same people deciding what he could handle.

The train arrived near dawn.

Philadelphia was gray.

Cold.

Beatrice gave the driver an address.

A narrow brick building.

Third floor.

No guards.

No luxury.

Christian stood at the door.

He knocked.

Nothing.

Again.

Footsteps.

The door opened.

Thomas Vale stood there.

Sixty-four.

Gray hair.

Lean.

A scar along his jaw.

Christian froze.

Thomas did too.

“Chris.”

Christian stared.

“You do not get to call me that yet.”

Thomas’s face fell.

“Fair.”

Christian entered.

I stayed near the doorway.

Beatrice sat in the hall.

Thomas looked at the sealed transcript under Christian’s arm.

“So Beatrice finally did it.”

Christian turned.

“You knew she had it.”

“Yes.”

“You wanted her to bring it.”

“Yes.”

“Why not come yourself?”

Thomas looked at him.

“Because you were getting engaged.”

Christian laughed.

“You thought a sealed transcript was less disruptive than a living father?”

Thomas almost smiled.

Then did not.

“I wanted you to decide what to do about Alessandra before I appeared.”

Christian’s face hardened.

“Everyone keeps talking about my decisions after making them for me.”

Thomas lowered his eyes.

“I know.”

Christian looked around the apartment.

Books.

Newspapers.

One photograph of him as a child.

One of his mother.

One of Christian receiving a business award.

He noticed.

“You watched me.”

“Yes.”

“For nineteen years.”

“Not all of them.”

Christian laughed.

“That distinction is doing a lot of work today.”

Thomas nodded.

“Yes.”

Christian held up the photograph of his parents.

“Mom knew.”

Thomas’s face changed.

“Yes.”

“For six years.”

“Yes.”

“Why did you ask her to lie?”

Thomas looked toward the window.

“Because Shaw was still dangerous.”

“That explains some of it.”

“Yes.”

“Not all.”

“No.”

Christian stared.

Thomas continued.

“I was afraid you would want to see me.”

Christian blinked.

“That was the problem?”

“Yes.”

“Why?”

Thomas’s voice broke.

“Because I wanted to see you too.”

Christian looked away.

Thomas continued.

“If you came to me, protection would fail.”

“But eventually it did not matter.”

“No.”

“And you still stayed away.”

“Yes.”

Christian looked back.

“Why?”

Thomas sat.

“Because I had become a witness who survived by leaving.”

He looked at his son.

“And after enough years, leaving became who I was.”

Silence.

Christian nodded slowly.

“That is the first answer tonight that sounds true.”

Thomas accepted it.

Then Christian asked:

“What did Shaw do?”

Thomas’s face hardened.

“More than the transcript says.”

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Christian sat across from him.

“Then start there.”