Chapter 2 - The Missing Sunday Calls
Adrian Santoro didn't raise his voice.
He didn't have to. The terrifying stillness in his posture was enough to make the entire ballroom hold its breath.
"I asked you a question, Evelyn," Adrian said, his voice dangerously soft. "How long have you been telling my father that I was ashamed of him?"
Evelyn’s perfect smile shattered. She looked around the room, painfully aware of the sixty wealthy guests watching her humiliation unfold.
"Adrian, you're making a scene over nothing," she hissed, stepping closer to him to lower her voice. "The man has dementia. He forgets to eat. He forgets his own name. He probably just imagined I said that."
"I didn't imagine it," Walter said quietly.
His hand was still holding mine. I could feel his fingers trembling, but his grip was firm.
Evelyn glared at him. "See? He doesn't know what he's talking about. You've been gone on business for three weeks, Adrian. I've been the one managing his care. I'm protecting him."
Adrian turned his dark eyes toward me. "Rachel, is that true? Has she been protecting him?"
My heart pounded against my ribs. I desperately needed my paycheck. I needed the tiny room above the garage for my baby.
But I looked down at the old man in the faded brown cardigan. I remembered the lonely hours he spent staring at a silent telephone.
"No, sir," I whispered.
Evelyn gasped. "You lying little—"
"Let her speak," Adrian commanded, cutting Evelyn off with a single look.
I took a shaky breath. "Mr. Walt asks about you every single day, sir. But Mrs. Evelyn moved his room to the old servant's quarters in the east wing. The phone lines in that hallway were disconnected two months ago."
Adrian froze.
The color drained completely from Evelyn's face.
"Disconnected?" Adrian repeated, the word tasting like ash in his mouth.
He turned back to his father. For three years, Adrian had called the estate every Sunday at 4:00 PM. And every Sunday, Evelyn had answered the phone, sighing deeply, telling Adrian that Walter was too confused to speak, or that he was sleeping, or that he simply didn't want to talk.
And all this time, Walter had been sitting in a room with a dead telephone, believing his only son was ashamed of him.
"Why would you do that?" Adrian asked Evelyn, his voice cracking with a devastation that sent a chill down my spine. "He's an old man. He's my father."
Evelyn’s panic suddenly hardened into defensive anger.
"Because he is a liability!" Evelyn snapped, dropping the loving-fiancée act entirely. "He wanders around the estate talking about the old days. About the people this family used to associate with. You're trying to take this syndicate legitimate, Adrian! You're trying to build casinos and hotels. You can't do that when your father is telling the staff stories about the bodies buried under the foundation!"
The ballroom erupted in frantic, horrified whispers.
Adrian’s two security guards instinctively stepped forward, their hands resting over their jackets.
Evelyn pointed a manicured finger at me. "And you! You think you're so innocent? Do you really think your husband just randomly abandoned you because you got pregnant?"
My breath caught in my throat. My hand instinctively covered my swollen belly. "What?"
Evelyn laughed, a cruel, ugly sound. "Your deadbeat husband, David. He didn't run away from a baby, Rachel. He ran away from a forty-thousand-dollar gambling debt he owed to Adrian's captains. I found out. I paid off the debt, and I gave you a job to keep an eye on you in case he ever came back."
The floor seemed to tilt beneath my feet. David hadn't left because he didn't want our daughter. He left because the mafia was going to kill him. And the woman paying my meager salary owned his life.
Adrian looked at Evelyn as if he were staring at a stranger.
"You brought a debtor's pregnant wife into my home to use as bait?" Adrian asked, disgusted.
"I manage the problems you're too soft to handle!" Evelyn fired back.
"You're done here, Evelyn," Adrian said coldly. "The engagement is over. Pack your things and get out of my house."
Evelyn stood paralyzed. The absolute finality in his voice left no room for negotiation.
But as she turned to storm out, her eyes flashing with venom, she stopped.
"You think you can just throw me out?" Evelyn sneered. "Have you checked the trust documents lately, Adrian? The ones your father signed last week?"
Adrian frowned. "What documents?"
"The blind trust," Evelyn smiled triumphantly. "The one that holds the deed to this estate and every legitimate business you own. Walter signed a power of attorney. Over to me."
Adrian turned to his father in shock. "Dad? Did you sign something for her?"
Walter looked deeply confused. He reached into the pocket of his faded cardigan.
"She... she said it was a hospital form," Walter murmured. "But Ruth told me not to give her the real one."
Walter pulled a wrinkled, yellowed envelope from his pocket.
It was sealed with red wax.
"Ruth wrote this before she died," Walter whispered, handing it to Adrian. "She said if Evelyn ever tried to take the house, I should give you the key."
Adrian stared at the envelope. He broke the wax seal.
May you like
But there was no key inside.
There was only a single, faded photograph of a baby. And printed across the bottom was a name that made Adrian Santoro's blood run completely cold.
