Chapter 2 - THE SECRET OF THE LOST CHILD
The silence in the dining room was absolute.
Gabriel stared at Victoria.
His dark eyes were unblinking, holding a quiet, terrifying stillness.
“What did my father want to tell Daniel?” Gabriel repeated, his voice dangerously low.
Victoria took a step backward, her red silk gown brushing against the mahogany table.
“Gabriel, please. It was a complicated time.”
“Answer me.”
Victoria looked at the forty guests, all holding their breath. Then she looked at Daniel, who was sitting frozen, his hands gripping the edge of the table.
“He wanted to apologize about Elena,” Victoria whispered.
Daniel stopped breathing.
I stood near the service doors, my tray heavy in my hands. I knew about Elena. She was Daniel’s ex-wife. She had packed her bags and vanished three years ago, right in the middle of Daniel’s worst drinking spiral.
Daniel slowly stood up.
“What about Elena?” his voice shook.
Victoria lifted her chin, trying to regain her composure.
“Your father paid her to leave, Daniel. He gave her a quarter of a million dollars to pack her bags and walk out of your life while you were at the treatment center.”
Gabriel’s jaw tightened. “My father would never interfere in a marriage like that. Not even Daniel’s.”
“He didn't want to!” Victoria snapped. “But I convinced him it was the only way to save you, Daniel. I told him Elena was the reason you were drinking.”
Daniel’s face turned gray.
“Elena tried to save me,” he whispered. “She begged me to stop. You convinced my father to buy her off?”
“You were destroying this family's reputation!” Victoria shot back. “You were a liability!”
Gabriel took a slow step toward her.
“If my father paid her to leave three years ago,” Gabriel said, “why did he want to apologize on his deathbed eleven months ago?”
Victoria looked away.
“Because he found out she didn't take the money for herself.”
Daniel frowned, confusion mixing with the raw pain on his face. “What do you mean?”
“She took it for medical bills,” Victoria said, her voice dropping. “She didn't want to leave you, Daniel. But she needed the money to protect someone else.”
“Who?” Daniel demanded.
Victoria closed her eyes.
“Your son.”
The room seemed to spin. Daniel grabbed the back of his chair to keep from collapsing.
“My... son?”
“She was three months pregnant when she left,” Victoria confessed. “Your father found out shortly before he died. He wanted to tell you that you had a boy. He wanted to beg your forgiveness for sending them away.”
Daniel let out a broken, agonizing sound. He covered his face, his broad shoulders shaking violently.
He had a son. A child he had never met, never held, never known existed.
Gabriel’s expression morphed from shock to absolute, calculated fury.
“You knew my brother had a child,” Gabriel said, his voice dropping to a lethal whisper. “And you kept it from him.”
“He was a drunk, Gabriel!” Victoria cried, pointing at Daniel. “He would have ruined that boy’s life!”
Gabriel didn’t raise his voice. He didn't have to.
“Get out of my house.”
Victoria froze. “Gabriel, the wedding—”
“There is no wedding. If you are not off this property in five minutes, I will have my men physically throw you into the street.”
Victoria let out a humiliated sob, gathered her silk skirt, and ran toward the grand staircase.
Gabriel turned to Daniel. He placed both hands on his brother’s shoulders.
“Danny. Look at me.”
Daniel looked up, his face stained with tears. “I have a son, Gabe. I have a boy.”
“And we are going to find him,” Gabriel swore.
But as the guests hurriedly began to leave, murmuring in shock, I saw something under the table near Victoria’s chair.
It was her small designer clutch. She had dropped it in her panic.
I picked it up to hand it to one of the guards, but the clasp was unfastened.
A small, folded piece of paper slipped out and landed on the marble floor.
I picked it up.
It wasn't a receipt. It was a child’s drawing.
Drawn in bright blue crayon, it showed a man and a little boy holding hands. At the top, in clumsy, oversized letters, it read: For Daddy.
But it was the back of the drawing that made my blood run cold.
May you like
Written in neat, cursive handwriting was a terrifying message.
He’s asking questions, Victoria. Send the next payment by Friday, or I’m telling Gabriel everything you did.
