Chapter 8 - The Father Who Was Still Waiting

Ricardo Romano was seventy-two.

Thin.

Gray beard.

Oxygen tube.

But alive.

Nico stopped at the doorway.

Ricardo opened his eyes.

For one second, neither moved.

Then Ricardo looked at Nico’s forearm.

The black wolf tattoo.

He smiled.

“You finally got it.”

Nico stared.

“What?”

“The wolf.”

His father’s voice was weak.

“You drew wolves when you were little.”

Nico started crying.

Not quietly.

Not carefully.

He crossed the room.

Ricardo lifted one hand.

Nico took it.

Twenty-five years.

Gone.

Isabella stood behind him.

Ricardo saw her.

His hand tightened around Nico’s.

“Bella?”

She covered her mouth.

He whispered:

“You came.”

She walked toward him.

“I thought you were dead.”

He laughed weakly.

“So did everyone.”

Then she touched his face.

“You looked for me.”

“Everywhere.”

“I waited.”

“I know now.”

Nico sat beside them.

No one spoke for a long time.

Then Ricardo looked at Victoria.

She stood near the door.

He frowned.

“You are a Hale.”

“Yes.”

“Henry?”

“My grandfather.”

Ricardo’s expression changed.

Victoria said:

“He is dead.”

“Good.”

No one corrected the bitterness.

Nico asked:

“Dad, who forged the letters?”

Ricardo looked at the box.

“Henry’s office.”

“Margaret Cole?”

“Yes.”

“How do you know?”

“She came here last month.”

Everyone stared.

Victoria whispered:

“She came?”

Ricardo nodded.

“She confessed.”

“Why?”

“She is dying.”

Nico asked:

“What did she say?”

Ricardo looked at him.

“Henry ordered every letter.”

“For twenty-five years?”

“No.”

“Then who continued after he died?”

Ricardo’s face tightened.

“Carlo.”

Silence.

Nico stared.

His uncle.

Again.

Ricardo continued.

“Henry started them.”

“Carlo continued.”

“Yes.”

“Why?”

“To keep me away.”

“From Mom?”

“And from you.”

Nico looked at Isabella.

She closed her eyes.

Ricardo whispered:

“I tried to return three times.”

Nico’s jaw tightened.

“What stopped you?”

“Threats.”

“To me?”

“Yes.”

“From Carlo?”

“Twice.”

“And the third?”

Ricardo looked at Victoria.

She went pale.

“From someone in the Hale family.”

“Who?”

Ricardo shook his head.

“I never knew.”

Victoria looked at Eleanor.

Eleanor shook her head.

Then Anna spoke.

“Margaret.”

Everyone turned.

Anna explained.

Margaret Cole did not just obey Henry.

She managed the entire secret network.

Documents.

Letters.

Clinic admissions.

Property transfers.

When Henry died, she kept parts of it running.

Not for loyalty.

For money.

Samuel whispered:

“She was the archivist.”

Anna nodded.

“The person who knew where every body was buried.”

Nico asked:

“Literally?”

Anna looked at him.

“Sometimes.”

Silence.

Ricardo coughed.

Nico leaned closer.

His father said:

“The last ledger.”

Anna touched the key around her neck.

“I have access.”

Ricardo nodded.

“It proves Margaret received money after Henry died.”

“From Carlo?”

“Partly.”

“Who else?”

Ricardo looked at Victoria.

“Your father.”

Victoria froze.

“My father?”

“Nine years ago.”

She shook her head.

“No.”

Ricardo continued.

“He paid Margaret two hundred thousand dollars.”

“For what?”

“I don’t know.”

Eleanor whispered:

“I do.”

Everyone turned.

She looked at Victoria.

“Your father paid Margaret to find Anna.”

Samuel stared.

“What?”

Eleanor nodded.

“After Henry died, he wanted to repair what the family had done.”

Anna looked stunned.

“He looked for me?”

“Yes.”

“Why didn’t he find me?”

“He did.”

Silence.

Anna stared.

“When?”

“Eight years ago.”

“No.”

Eleanor nodded.

“You refused to see him.”

Anna’s face changed.

“I never knew.”

Eleanor whispered:

“Margaret lied to both of you.”

Again.

The same mechanism.

The same person.

Split the family.

Control the information.

Charge everyone for access to the truth.

Nico stood.

“Where is Margaret?”

Victoria answered:

“Greenwich.”

Ricardo grabbed Nico’s wrist.

“No.”

Nico looked down.

His father’s eyes were sharp despite the illness.

“Do not go there angry.”

“She stole our lives.”

“Yes.”

“She kept you here.”

“Yes.”

“She helped Carlo.”

“Yes.”

“Then why not angry?”

Ricardo smiled sadly.

“Because anger makes you easy to direct.”

Nico stopped.

His father continued.

“That is how all of us were used.”

Nico looked at Victoria.

At Eleanor.

At Anna.

At Samuel.

At Isabella.

Every one of them had reacted to fear.

To shame.

To threats.

Margaret understood that.

Nico sat again.

“What should I do?”

Ricardo answered:

“Take the ledger.”

“And?”

“Let the truth arrive before you do.”

So Anna opened the bank box.

Inside:

The final ledger.

Letters.

Payments.

Copies of threats.

And one sealed envelope.

Addressed to Nico.

In Margaret Cole’s handwriting.

Nico opened it.

One sentence.

IF YOU ARE READING THIS, THEN THE FAMILY HAS FINALLY STOPPED BELIEVING THE VERSION I SOLD THEM.

Under it:

COME ALONE.

An address.

Greenwich.

Nico looked at Ricardo.

His father shook his head.

Nico folded the letter.

“For once, no.”

He looked at Anna.

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