Chapter 3 - THE MAN WHO WAS SUPPOSED TO BE DEAD
My mother was gone when I returned to the hospital.
The bed was empty.
The IV had been disconnected.
The nurse couldn't explain where she'd gone.
Neither could I.
“Where is my mother?”
The nurse checked the chart.
“She was discharged.”
“By whom?”
She hesitated.
“A man claiming to be her son.”
“I am her son.”
“I know.”
“Then who took her?”
The nurse looked frightened.
“He showed identification.”
“What kind?”
“Driver's license. Same last name.”
“First name?”
She checked.
“Victor.”
My stomach dropped.
Claire grabbed my arm.
“Julian.”
I turned.
“That's him.”
“Who?”
“Victor.”
My uncle.
The dead man.
Except apparently he wasn't dead.
I pulled out my phone.
“Call the police.”
Claire shook her head.
“Wait.”
“Why?”
“Because if Victor has your mother, calling the police may put her in danger.”
“She is already in danger.”
“I know.”
I stared at her.
“You've known about this for years.”
“Yes.”
“And you never told me.”
“I was trying to keep your children alive.”
Her words silenced me.
Noah and Eli were sitting in the waiting area.
Two little boys who had no idea that the adults around them were unraveling.
I crouched in front of them.
“Guys.”
They looked at me.
“Did you ever meet Victor?”
Noah shook his head.
Eli nodded.
“When?”
“Before Christmas.”
Claire immediately turned.
“Eli.”
“He came to Mommy's house.”
My heart accelerated.
“What did he look like?”
Eli thought.
“Like Daddy.”
I looked at Claire.
She closed her eyes.
“Not exactly,” Eli continued. “Older.”
Noah nodded.
“He had Daddy's eyes.”
I couldn't breathe.
I had never met Victor as an adult.
But I knew what he looked like as a child.
My father had shown me photographs.
My brother.
My older brother.
The story my family told was that Victor died at nineteen in a boating accident.
But what if he hadn't?
What if my father had lied?
Why?
My phone buzzed.
A text.
Unknown number.
COME ALONE.
Then another.
A location.
An abandoned warehouse near the Seattle waterfront.
Claire grabbed my wrist.
“Don't go.”
“My mother is there.”
“That's what they want.”
“Who?”
She shook her head.
“I don't know.”
“You know more than you're telling me.”
“I know enough to be afraid.”
I looked at the twins.
“Then stay with them.”
“No.”
“Claire.”
“I've been protecting them alone for five years.”
She stared directly into my eyes.
“If you're walking into danger, I'm coming.”
I wanted to argue.
Instead, I nodded.
We left the hospital.
The warehouse was dark.
Rainwater pooled across the pavement.
I parked two blocks away.
Claire stayed in the SUV with the boys.
I walked toward the building alone.
The door was open.
Inside, a single light hung from the ceiling.
And beneath it sat my mother.
Alive.
Tied to a chair.
“Mom!”
I ran toward her.
A gun clicked behind me.
“Stop.”
I froze.
A man stepped from the shadows.
Tall.
Gray hair.
Gray-blue eyes.
My eyes.
He looked at me for several seconds.
Then smiled.
“Hello, Julian.”
I couldn't speak.
My mother began crying.
“Victor.”
The man nodded.
“My little brother.”
I stared at him.
“You're dead.”
He laughed.
“So you were told.”
“Why?”
“Because Father needed you to believe I was gone.”
“What did he do?”
Victor walked closer.
“He didn't kill me.”
He stopped.
“He erased me.”
My mother sobbed.
“Victor, please.”
He ignored her.
Then he looked at me.
“You want to know why Claire left?”
“Yes.”
“You want to know why she never told you about the children?”
“Yes.”
“You want to know why Father lied?”
“Yes.”
Victor smiled.
“Then ask your mother what happened the night you were born.”
I turned.
“Mom?”
She wouldn't look at me.
“Mom.”
Victor stepped behind her.
“She has been lying to you your entire life.”
My mother whispered,
“Julian, your father wasn't your biological father.”
Everything went silent.
“What?”
She looked at me through tears.
“I was twenty-two.”
My mind stopped.
“Who was my father?”
She couldn't answer.
Victor did.
“Me.”
I stared at him.
“No.”
“Yes.”
“That makes no sense.”
“It makes perfect sense.”
My mother shook her head.
“Victor and I were young.”
My voice cracked.
“You're my uncle.”
“No.”
Victor smiled sadly.
“I was never your uncle.”
The world tilted.
“Then who was?”
“My mother married your father,” Victor said. “But before that, she was with me.”
I looked at my mother.
She whispered,
“Your father knew.”
My hands trembled.
“Why would he raise me?”
“Because he wanted my family name,” Victor said. “And because your father couldn't have children.”
I felt sick.
“What about Claire?”
Victor's expression changed.
“That was where everything went wrong.”
He pulled a photograph from his coat.
He handed it to me.
It showed Claire.
Pregnant.
Standing beside a hospital.
On the back was a date.
Five years earlier.
And beneath it, a sentence.
The twins were never supposed to survive.
I looked up.
“Who wrote this?”
Victor didn't answer.
A gunshot exploded outside.
Claire screamed.
I ran toward the door.
Victor grabbed my shoulder.
“Don't.”
I pulled away.
“My children!”
“That's exactly what they want.”
Another gunshot.
Then silence.
I ran outside.
The SUV was gone.
Claire was gone.
The twins were gone.
My phone rang.
I answered.
A man's voice said,
“Now you understand.”
“Where are they?”
“Your father spent five years hiding the truth.”
The voice paused.
“I'm going to spend the next five hours making you pay for it.”
I clenched my fists.
“If you touch my children—”
A laugh.
Then a final sentence.
“You've been calling them your children for less than a day.”
The call ended.
I stood in the rain.
For the first time in my life, I understood what it meant to be powerless.
Then Victor walked up beside me.
“You want them back?”
I looked at him.
“Yes.”
“Then we're going to find the man who stole them.”
“Who?”
Victor's face became cold.
“Your father.”
I stared at him.
“My father is dead.”
Victor shook his head.
“No.”
He looked toward the dark road.
“Your father is alive.”
And somewhere across Seattle, my children were being driven toward a place I had never seen.
May you like
A place my father had prepared five years ago.
A place Claire had spent half a decade trying to forget.
