Chapter 2 - The Initials That Should Have Been Impossible
Norah woke to the sound of a clock.
Tick.
Tick.
Tick.
For several seconds, she had no idea where she was.
Then memory returned in fragments.
Restaurant.
Gregory.
The glass.
The floor.
Her son.
Sam.
Her eyes flew open.
She tried to sit up.
A hand immediately pressed against her shoulder.
“Slow down.”
Norah jerked away.
The movement sent pain through her head.
She stared at the man beside her.
Dark suit.
Broad shoulders.
Sharp jaw.
Expression unreadable.
She had seen him before.
Every city newspaper had.
Every local television station had.
Ethan Hayes.
The owner of half the docks on the east side.
The man people referred to in lowered voices.
The man who had survived three assassination attempts and somehow emerged from all of them untouched.
The man Gregory had called Mr. Hayes.
Norah’s breathing became shallow.
“Where is my son?”
Ethan watched her carefully.
“Your son is safe.”
“Where?”
“My people are locating him now.”
Norah's face drained of color.
“You took him?”
“No.”
“Then how do you know where he is?”
“You told a waiter before you collapsed.”
Norah frowned.
A fragment of memory returned.
She had been asking Gregory for money.
She had said Sam's name.
Had someone heard?
“How long have I been unconscious?”
“Twenty-seven minutes.”
“That long?”
“You were dehydrated and severely underfed.”
“I’m fine.”
“You fainted onto a marble floor.”
“I said I’m fine.”
Ethan looked at the bag on the desk.
“You were carrying formula.”
Norah immediately reached for it.
He moved his hand away.
She snatched the bag toward herself.
Her fingers shook.
She checked every item.
Crackers.
Diaper cream.
Utility notices.
Wallet.
Receipt.
Bottle.
The bottle was missing.
Norah’s eyes snapped toward Ethan.
“Give me that.”
He looked at the bottle.
“Why are these initials on it?”
Her heart stopped.
She knew before he spoke again.
S.H.
Her husband had marked the bottle.
He had done it six weeks earlier in a moment of exhausted humor.
Sam Hayes.
Their son's full name.
Samuel Hayes.
Norah had hated the name initially because it sounded too formal for a baby who liked stealing socks from the laundry basket.
But her husband had insisted.
“Our boy gets to keep his father's name,” he had said.
Her husband.
Daniel Hayes.
Norah had buried Daniel eleven months ago.
Or so she thought.
Her hands began trembling harder.
“Where did you find that?”
“It was in your bag.”
“It belongs to my son.”
“What is his last name?”
Norah stared at him.
“Why?”
“Answer me.”
The softness in Ethan’s voice had disappeared.
“Davis.”
A pause.
“No.”
Ethan leaned forward.
“Try again.”
She swallowed.
“Hayes.”
The silence that followed was different.
Finn appeared in the doorway.
He looked from Ethan to Norah.
“Boss.”
Ethan raised a hand.
Finn stopped.
Ethan looked at Norah as though seeing her for the first time.
“Who is the father?”
Norah said nothing.
Ethan’s voice dropped.
“Who is Samuel Hayes’s father?”
“Daniel.”
“Full name.”
“Daniel Hayes.”
Ethan went completely still.
Finn’s expression changed.
Mateo appeared behind him.
No one spoke.
Ethan looked down at the bottle.
Then at Norah.
Then at the handwriting on the plastic.
“Where did Daniel die?”
Norah closed her eyes.
“At St. Vincent’s.”
“When?”
“Last December.”
“How?”
“Car accident.”
“Who told you?”
“I was there.”
Ethan sat back.
Something inside his expression had hardened.
“Daniel Hayes was my younger brother.”
Norah stared at him.
The room seemed to contract.
“What?”
“My brother.”
She shook her head.
“No.”
“You knew him.”
“I knew Daniel.”
“You married him?”
“Yes.”
“Did you know he was a Hayes?”
Norah's expression became defensive.
“He told me he had a complicated family.”
“He told me he wasn't close to them.”
“That was a lie.”
Norah flinched.
“Maybe.”
Ethan stood.
He turned toward Finn.
“Get Dr. Parker.”
“Bring the car.”
“Then pull every hospital record connected to Daniel Hayes from last year.”
Finn nodded.
Ethan looked back at Norah.
“How long have you known about Samuel's connection to me?”
Norah laughed bitterly.
“I didn't.”
“You expect me to believe you walked into my restaurant carrying my dead brother's child by coincidence?”
“I didn't know this was your restaurant.”
“Then why did you come?”
“Gregory owes me money.”
Ethan frowned.
“Three hundred dollars.”
“You remembered.”
“I remember numbers.”
Norah looked away.
“My son needed formula.”
Ethan noticed how her fingers clenched around the bottle.
“You came inside because you had nowhere else to go.”
“I came inside because Gregory had my money.”
“You were starving.”
“I was working.”
“Not anymore.”
Norah lifted her chin.
“I don't need your pity.”
“I didn't offer pity.”
“What do you want?”
Ethan leaned against the desk.
“The truth.”
“I told you the truth.”
“You told me pieces.”
He looked directly at her.
“Daniel disappeared from my family records five months before his supposed death.”
Norah stared.
“What?”
“He stopped taking my calls.”
“I thought he was dead.”
“You didn't?”
“I said he died.”
“Then why did he have a second identification card?”
Her blood ran cold.
“What?”
Ethan placed a plastic evidence sleeve onto the desk.
Inside was an ID card.
Norah recognized the photograph.
Daniel.
But the name was different.
David Hale.
She touched the plastic.
“No.”
“Where did you get that?”
“His apartment.”
“I never saw it.”
“That is exactly why I brought you here.”
The door opened.
Dr. Parker entered with a medical bag.
Behind him came a woman in a dark coat.
She was perhaps in her late sixties, silver-haired and elegant.
She looked at Norah.
Then at Ethan.
Then at the bottle.
The woman's face changed.
“Where did you find that?”
Ethan turned.
“You know it?”
The woman stepped closer.
Her eyes filled with tears.
“That was Sophia's.”
Norah stared.
“Sophia?”
Ethan's face turned pale.
The older woman whispered:
“My daughter's bottle.”
Finn glanced at the others.
“That's impossible.”
The woman shook her head.
“No.”
She pointed at the bottle.
“That green ring. Those initials. I bought that exact set when Sophia found out she was pregnant.”
Ethan's chair scraped backward.
“Mom.”
Norah looked between them.
“Your mother?”
The woman nodded.
“Evelyn Hayes.”
May you like
Then she whispered the sentence that changed everything.
“Sophia did not die ten years ago.”
