The Secret Vincent Hid

Part 2: The Son They Wanted

“One of our sons?” I repeated, staring at Vincent. “What does that mean?”

Vincent stepped inside, but I immediately moved away from him.

“Don’t come any closer.”

He stopped.

For the first time in five years, the most feared man in Chicago obeyed me without argument.

“My father believed your family possessed something that belonged to the Morettis,” he explained. “A fortune hidden decades ago, along with documents that could destroy several powerful families.”

I shook my head. “My parents were ordinary people.”

“Your mother wasn’t.”

My breath caught.

My mother had died when I was nineteen. She had rarely spoken about her childhood, and whenever I asked about our relatives, she changed the subject.

“What does this have to do with my children?”

Vincent looked toward Noah, who was quietly holding his stuffed bear.

“Before we married, my father discovered that your mother’s family carried a genetic marker connected to an inheritance. He believed one of our children would eventually lead him to it.”

I stared at him in horror.

“So you married me because of my family?”

Vincent’s silence was answer enough.

Tears burned my eyes, but I refused to let them fall.

“Was anything real, Vincent? Did you ever love me?”

His expression crumbled.

“Yes.”

“Then why did you abandon us?”

He lowered his head.

“Because Sophia discovered my father’s plan. She threatened to expose everything, and my father told me that if I didn’t divorce you and remove the boys from his reach, all three children would become targets.”

I laughed bitterly.

“So you thought the best way to protect us was to leave us alone?”

“I thought if you hated me, you would never come back.”

“You didn’t even look at Noah when he reached for you!”

Vincent flinched as if I had struck him.

“I know.”

“No, you don’t. You don’t know how many nights he cried for you. You don’t know how often Ethan wakes up screaming. You don’t know anything about the children you claim to love.”

His eyes filled with tears.

“I deserve that.”

For a moment, neither of us spoke.

Then I asked the question that terrified me most.

“Which of my sons does Sophia want?”

Vincent looked toward the bedroom where the twins were sleeping.

“Oliver.”

My arms tightened around the baby I was holding.

“Why him?”

“Because two weeks ago, Sophia stole a medical report from my father’s private office. It showed that Oliver inherited a rare genetic marker from your mother’s family.”

I felt sick.

“And what does that marker lead to?”

“An account containing billions of dollars, established by your grandfather. The money was hidden to protect your family from people who wanted to control it.”

I stared at him.

“My grandfather died before I was born.”

“His fortune didn’t disappear. And your father was murdered because he refused to reveal where the evidence was hidden.”

The room seemed to tilt beneath my feet.

My father had died in a car accident when I was twelve. That was what I had always been told.

“You’re lying.”

“I wish I were.”

Before I could respond, Vincent’s phone vibrated.

He glanced at the screen, and the color drained from his face.

“What is it?” I demanded.

He turned the phone toward me.

A photograph showed Oliver sleeping in his crib.

The picture had been taken from inside my apartment.

Beneath it was a message.

You have until midnight to deliver the boy, Vincent. Otherwise, we will take him ourselves.

I looked up in terror.

“Who sent this?”

Vincent’s jaw tightened.

“My father.”

A sharp crash came from the bedroom.

I screamed and ran toward the twins’ room.

The window was open.

Ethan was crying in his crib, but Oliver was gone.

On the floor lay a small white envelope.

Inside was a photograph of Sophia holding a newborn baby.

On the back, someone had written six words.

Ask Vincent who Oliver’s real father is.

I slowly turned toward my husband.

Vincent stood frozen in the doorway.

For the first time, I saw genuine terror in his eyes.

“Claire,” he whispered. “There’s one more thing you need to know.”

I held the photograph in my trembling hands.

“Tell me the truth.”

He swallowed hard.

“Oliver may be my son, but Sophia believes he was fathered by someone else.”

Before I could ask another question, gunshots erupted outside the apartment.

Vincent grabbed my hand.

“We have to leave. Now.”

And somewhere in the darkness, my missing baby began to cry.