Chapter 6 - The Night Harper Disappeared
Harper stared at her own name.
No one spoke.
Her first instinct was laughter.
Not because anything was funny.
Because the alternative was screaming.
“This is ridiculous.”
Evelyn said nothing.
“My father was Thomas Quinn.”
“The man who raised you was Thomas Quinn.”
“He was my father.”
“Yes,” Evelyn said gently. “In every way that mattered.”
Harper's eyes burned.
“Don't do that.”
“Harper—”
“Don't rewrite my life in one sentence.”
Mateo came closer but didn't touch her.
She appreciated that.
“What proof?” she asked.
Liam placed another folder on the desk.
“Gabriel's letters.”
“Letters aren't proof.”
“No.”
“Birth certificates can be forged.”
“Yes.”
“Then prove it.”
Mateo spoke quietly.
“We can.”
Harper looked at him.
“How?”
“My father kept family medical records.”
She laughed bitterly.
“Of course he did.”
“There may be DNA samples.”
“No.”
Mateo frowned.
“No?”
“I am not finding out who my father was from some dead man's private archive.”
She picked up her coat.
Mateo blocked the door.
“Move.”
“Harper.”
“I said move.”
“You're upset.”
“My dead father may not be my biological father, my former professor knew, your best friend tracked me across state lines, someone stole twenty million dollars that apparently wasn't stolen, and I'm having contractions.”
Everyone froze.
Mateo looked down.
“You're what?”
Harper closed her eyes.
She had not meant to say that.
Evelyn was immediately beside her.
“How often?”
“They're not real.”
“How often?”
Harper checked the clock.
The last one had been perhaps twelve minutes ago.
This one was stronger.
“Ten or twelve minutes.”
Mateo reached for his phone.
“No.”
“We're going to the hospital.”
“I'm not having this baby in the middle of this.”
Evelyn almost smiled.
“The baby may not consult your schedule.”
Another tightening came.
Harper breathed.
Mateo's face lost color.
“Hospital. Now.”
Harper wanted to argue.
Then something warm ran down her leg.
She looked down.
“Oh.”
Mateo looked too.
“What does that mean?”
Evelyn grabbed Harper's bag.
“It means you're getting your wish.”
“What wish?”
“The hospital.”
The next hour became fragments.
An elevator.
Mateo's hand at her back.
Liam clearing the lobby.
Harper insisting she could walk.
Mateo insisting she couldn't.
Harper threatening to hit him if he tried to carry her.
A black sedan.
Chicago traffic.
Mateo calling the hospital three times in eleven minutes.
Harper telling him that calling repeatedly would not make traffic disappear.
Then a contraction so strong she crushed his hand.
He didn't complain.
At the hospital, everything accelerated.
Questions.
Forms.
Monitors.
A nurse smiling calmly while Mateo looked as though civilization were ending.
“Four centimeters,” the nurse said.
Harper stared.
“Already?”
“You've probably been in early labor for hours.”
Mateo looked personally betrayed by this information.
“Why didn't anyone know?”
Harper laughed through her exhaustion.
“Because none of you are obstetricians.”
The nurse looked at Mateo.
“Dad?”
Mateo froze.
Harper answered.
“Yes.”
One word.
Dad.
Mateo looked at her.
Something passed between them.
No ledger.
No missing money.
No Gabriel.
Just that.
Dad.
Hours passed.
Labor did not care about mysteries.
It reduced Harper's world to breathing, pressure, pain, rest.
Mateo stayed.
She expected him to leave at least once.
He didn't.
When she became angry, he absorbed it.
When she became frightened, he held her hand.
When she told him she couldn't do it, he leaned close and said, “You've been doing impossible things alone for eight months. You don't have to do this one alone.”
She cried then.
Not because of pain.
Because she believed him.
Near midnight, while Harper slept between contractions, Mateo stepped into the hallway.
Liam was waiting.
“You should be downstairs,” Mateo said.
“I found something.”
Mateo looked toward Harper's room.
“Make it fast.”
Liam handed him a phone.
Security footage.
Eight months earlier.
The night Harper disappeared.
A camera across from Falcone Tower showed Harper's car leaving.
Three minutes later, a black SUV followed.
Mateo watched.
“Simon?”
“No.”
The footage zoomed.
Driver's face.
Mateo stared.
Impossible.
The man behind the wheel was older.
Silver hair.
Familiar profile.
Mateo whispered a name.
“Victor.”
Liam nodded.
Victor Sloane.
Mateo's father's former attorney.
The man who had handled Gabriel's estate.
The man who had prepared the documents declaring Gabriel's daughter legally dead after no child could be located.
The man who had recommended Simon Gorski for his job.
Mateo looked toward Harper's room.
“Where is Victor now?”
“No one knows.”
“Find him.”
“I already started.”
Mateo returned to Harper.
She opened her eyes.
“You left.”
“For two minutes.”
“Felt longer.”
He sat.
“I'm here.”
Harper studied him.
“You found something.”
He hesitated.
“Don't lie to me again.”
“Victor Sloane followed you the night you disappeared.”
Harper knew the name.
Mateo's family attorney.
“Why?”
“I think he knew who you were.”
Harper closed her eyes.
Gabriel's daughter.
Mateo's niece.
The words felt impossible.
“And my baby?”
“Is my daughter.”
Harper opened her eyes.
Mateo took her hand.
“That is the only part I don't need a document to understand.”
A contraction came.
Everything else disappeared.
By 3:14 a.m., Harper was exhausted.
By 3:37, the doctor said it was time.
Mateo stood beside her.
Harper screamed at him once.
Apologized.
Then screamed again.
He told her she could insult him until sunrise if she wanted.
At 4:02 a.m., a cry filled the room.
Harper stopped breathing.
Then she began sobbing.
The nurse lifted a tiny, furious, perfect baby girl.
Mateo stared.
He didn't move.
“Dad,” the nurse said, smiling. “Come meet your daughter.”
Mateo approached like the floor might disappear beneath him.
The baby was placed against Harper's chest.
Harper looked down.
Dark hair.
Tiny fingers.
Angry little face.
“Hi,” Harper whispered.
Mateo touched one finger to his daughter's hand.
She grabbed it.
He broke.
One tear.
Then another.
Harper had never seen him cry.
She reached for him.
He leaned down and kissed her forehead.
For several minutes, the world was good.
Then Liam appeared behind the glass.
Mateo saw his face.
Something was wrong.
He stepped into the hall.
Harper watched through the open doorway.
Liam handed him a phone.
Mateo read the message.
His expression changed.
He returned to Harper.
“What?”
He didn't answer immediately.
“Mateo.”
He showed her.
Unknown number.
One photograph.
Taken through the hospital window minutes earlier.
Harper holding the baby.
Below it were six words.
GABRIEL'S DAUGHTER FINALLY HAS A DAUGHTER.
May you like
Then another message arrived.
I'M COMING TO FINISH THIS.
