Chapter 16
Harold moved faster than anyone.
He shoved Ethan and me behind the sofa and shouted for everyone to get down.
Mike grabbed the baby’s mother and pulled her away from the window.
Sarah screamed.
My father stood still, staring at the brick like he had expected it.
That made me furious.
“You knew this could happen?” I snapped.
He looked at me.
“I knew they might be watching.”
“And you walked in anyway?”
“I had to warn you.”
Another car engine roared outside.
Tires screamed away from the curb.
Harold was already calling the police.
Ethan’s body shook against mine.
I wrapped both arms around him.
“It’s okay. You’re safe.”
But he looked at the broken glass.
Then at me.
“Dad, are the bad people back?”
The question hit me harder than the brick.
He had just started laughing again.
Just started sleeping through some nights.
Just started believing monsters went to prison and stayed there.
Now another shadow had entered the room.
“No one is taking you,” I said.
My father heard me.
Pain crossed his face.
Good.
Let it hurt.
Police arrived within minutes.
The party ended in flashing lights and statements.
The note went into an evidence bag.
The brick was photographed.
The neighborhood was searched.
No one found the car.
No one saw the driver clearly.
Because of course they didn’t.
People who throw bricks through windows usually know where cameras stop.
Detective Morales came to the scene.
She had worked Vincent’s case from the beginning.
When she saw my father, her face changed.
“Thomas Reed.”
My father nodded.
“Detective.”
“You’re supposed to be dead.”
“So I’ve heard.”
She did not smile.
“Start talking.”
We moved into Harold’s study because the living room was full of broken glass.
Ethan sat on my lap even though he was eight and usually said he was too big.
Tonight, he did not care.
Neither did I.
My father explained.
Years ago, he had worked as an accountant for Arthur Blackwood’s companies.
He discovered money moving through fake charities, shell businesses, and private accounts tied to judges, police officers, and construction contracts.
Arthur died before charges were filed.
But his network survived.
My father tried to expose them.
Then his car exploded.
Everyone thought he died.
He had not.
Federal agents pulled him out before the second attempt could finish the job.
Witness protection followed.
A new name.
A new state.
A fake death.
A son left behind.
Me.
I listened without moving.
When he finished, I asked the only question that mattered.
“Why didn’t you come back after Arthur’s people were arrested?”
My father looked down.
“Because not all of them were arrested.”
Harold cursed softly.
Detective Morales leaned forward.
“And Vincent?”
My father’s voice tightened.
“Vincent found out who his real father was. He believed Arthur’s hidden money belonged to him. He spent years trying to locate it.”
The warehouse.
The sawmill.
The blackmail.
The debts.
It all twisted into something uglier.
I thought Vincent had been evil because he was greedy and cruel.
Now it seemed he had been chasing a rotten inheritance.
“What does that have to do with Ethan?” I asked.
My father looked at my son.
“Vincent may have left instructions. If he believed Ethan knew anything, or if he thought you had access through me—”
“Ethan knows nothing.”
“I know.”
“Then why threaten us?”
My father’s eyes filled with guilt.
“Because you are my son.”
I laughed.
Bitter.
“That didn’t matter when I was growing up without you.”
He flinched.
Ethan looked up at me.
“Is he your dad?”
I swallowed.
“Yes.”
“Did he leave?”
My father closed his eyes.
I answered honestly.
“Yes.”
Ethan looked at him with the sharp judgment only a child can carry.
“That was bad.”
My father nodded.
“Yes. It was.”
Detective Morales took my father into protective custody that night.
Not arrest.
Protection.
He gave me a phone number before leaving.
“I won’t disappear again,” he said.
I looked at the card.
“You don’t get to promise that yet.”
He nodded.
“I’ll earn it.”
After he left, Harold boarded the window.
Ethan slept in my arms on the couch.
I did not sleep at all.
At 3 a.m., my phone buzzed.
Unknown number.
A photo appeared.
Ethan’s drawing from the party.
The one of us holding hands.
Someone had taken it from inside Harold’s house.
May you like
The message beneath it said:
Cute family. Easy to break.
