Chapter 3 - The Photograph
Naomi didn't speak for nearly a minute.
"You think they're after me?"
Roman nodded.
"Why?"
"I don't know yet."
"Then don't accuse me of being part of something I don't understand."
"I'm not accusing you."
"Then what are you doing?"
"Keeping you alive."
Naomi laughed bitterly.
"I don't need a mafia boss to keep me alive."
Roman's expression didn't change.
"You do tonight."
They arrived at a private residence overlooking the Potomac.
Naomi expected marble.
Guards.
Luxury.
Instead, the house was almost painfully ordinary inside.
Roman carried Jude upstairs.
Naomi followed.
The triplets were placed in a nursery.
A private doctor arrived ten minutes later.
After examining the babies, she looked at Roman.
"They're experiencing severe gastrointestinal distress."
Naomi folded her arms.
"I told you."
Roman ignored the accusation.
"Are they going to be okay?"
"If we stop the offending formula and hydrate them carefully, yes."
Roman closed his eyes.
For the first time, Naomi saw the weight leave his shoulders.
Then the doctor looked at Naomi.
"How did you know?"
Naomi shrugged.
"I didn't. I recognized the symptoms."
The doctor nodded.
"You may have saved their lives."
Roman heard it.
His eyes met Naomi's.
"Thank you."
It was the first sincere thing he had said to her.
Before Naomi could answer, Victor entered.
He carried a photograph.
"Roman."
Roman looked at it.
Victor handed it to Naomi.
She nearly dropped it.
It showed two young women standing beside a train.
One was Marianne Bell.
Her mother.
The other woman was Roman's mother.
Naomi stared.
"They knew each other."
Victor nodded.
"More than that."
He turned the photograph over.
There was handwriting on the back.
Naomi recognized it instantly.
Her mother's handwriting.
If anything happens to me, protect her.
Naomi whispered:
"Protect who?"
Roman looked at her.
"You."
Naomi's stomach dropped.
Victor reached into his coat.
"There was something else."
He placed an envelope on the table.
Naomi recognized the handwriting.
Her mother's.
But the envelope was addressed to Roman.
For my son, when the triplets are born.
Roman stared at it.
His face went white.
The babies had been born six weeks earlier.
No one should have known.
Except the letter had been written twenty-nine years ago.
Roman opened it.
Inside was one sentence.
He read it silently.
Then again.
Naomi watched his expression collapse.
"What does it say?"
Roman looked up.
"My mother knew these boys would exist."
Naomi stared at him.
"That's impossible."
Roman handed her the letter.
She read it.
When your three sons arrive, find Marianne's daughter. She will know what to do when they begin to cry.
Naomi looked toward the nursery.
May you like
All three babies were sleeping.
Then the lights went out.
