Chapter 7 - The Father I Never Knew
For several seconds, I couldn’t move.
The words were too impossible to understand.
Too large.
Too life-changing.
Your father is alive.
Four words.
Four words that turned my entire childhood into a question.
I stared at the photograph.
At my mother’s handwriting.
At the proof that everything I believed about my own life had been incomplete.
My father wasn’t gone.
He wasn’t a memory.
He wasn’t someone who existed only in old stories and the silence my mother carried.
He was alive.
Somewhere.
For years.
And I never knew.
“No.”
The word escaped quietly.
Not because I didn’t believe it.
Because I couldn’t.
Dominic looked at me.
“Tessa.”
I looked up.
His face had changed.
Not the controlled expression.
Not the careful mask.
Shock.
Real shock.
“You didn’t know.”
It wasn’t a question.
He shook his head slowly.
“No.”
I laughed once.
A broken sound.
“Of course you didn’t.”
I looked back at the picture.
“My mother trusted you with everything.”
“Tessa—”
“She told you things she never told me.”
My voice cracked.
“She trusted you with her secrets.”
Dominic accepted the accusation.
“I know.”
“And you didn’t know my father was alive?”
“No.”
The honesty should have comforted me.
It didn’t.
Because my entire life had become a collection of things people didn’t tell me.
My mother.
Gemma.
Dominic.
Everyone had been protecting me from something.
And nobody had stopped to ask what it felt like to live inside a lie.
“I need answers.”
Dominic nodded.
“You deserve them.”
I looked at him.
“Do I?”
“Yes.”
“Because so far, everyone who says they’re protecting me has taken something from me.”
The words hit him.
I saw it.
A small crack in the wall.
“I know.”
The quietness of his answer made my anger weaken.
Because he wasn’t fighting me.
He wasn’t trying to prove he was right.
He was admitting he had failed.
And somehow that was harder.
A sound came from outside.
A car engine.
Then another.
Dominic immediately looked toward the window.
His entire body changed.
The protector returned.
“We have to leave.”
I held up the photograph.
“No.”
His eyes moved to mine.
“Tessa.”
“No.”
I stepped closer.
“I am not running away from another part of my own life.”
His expression softened.
“You think that’s what I’m asking?”
“Yes.”
“No.”
He moved closer.
“I’m asking you to survive long enough to find the truth.”
The way he said it made me stop.
Not because it was an order.
Because it was a promise.
I folded the photograph carefully.
“Where do we go?”
Dominic looked at the key in my hand.
Then at the photo.
“There’s somewhere your mother wanted you to find.”
I frowned.
“How do you know?”
“Because she used to talk about one place whenever she was afraid.”
“Where?”
He looked at the key.
“An old family property.”
I stared.
“Your family?”
He nodded.
“My father’s old estate.”
My stomach tightened.
The place connected to everything.
My mother.
His father.
The secrets.
The betrayal.
“Why would she hide something there?”
“Because nobody would expect her to.”
I looked at the photograph again.
My mother had always been smarter than people realized.
She didn’t hide things where they were safe.
She hid them where people would never search.
Just like the pharmacy.
Just like the coat.
Just like everything else.
We left through the back entrance.
This time, I didn’t walk behind Dominic.
I walked beside him.
He noticed.
But he didn’t say anything.
And I appreciated that.
Because for the first time, I wasn’t someone he needed to shield.
I was someone he trusted.
The drive was quiet.
Too quiet.
I watched the city disappear behind us.
The buildings became smaller.
The streets became darker.
And the farther we went, the more I felt like I was leaving the life I knew behind.
“You never talked about your father.”
Dominic looked ahead.
“No.”
“Why?”
A pause.
“Because I spent years trying to become the opposite of him.”
I turned toward him.
“What was he like?”
Dominic’s hands tightened slightly on the steering wheel.
“He believed fear was the same as respect.”
The answer was immediate.
“And you?”
“I spent my life proving him wrong.”
I looked at him.
“You became powerful anyway.”
“Yes.”
“And you’re not like him?”
His eyes met mine briefly.
“No.”
The certainty surprised me.
Then he added:
“But I’ve made mistakes.”
That honesty was becoming the most dangerous thing about him.
Because it made me believe him.
The estate appeared after midnight.
It was hidden beyond a long road surrounded by trees.
The building itself was old.
Beautiful.
But lonely.
Like a place that remembered too much.
Dominic parked.
Nobody moved.
“This was your father’s home?”
“Yes.”
“My mother came here?”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
He looked toward the house.
“To ask him for help.”
I froze.
“Your father helped her?”
“No.”
The sadness in his voice was immediate.
“He refused.”
I looked at him.
“Why?”
“Because he was afraid.”
I frowned.
“Your father was afraid?”
Dominic looked at me.
“Everyone is afraid of something.”
The words stayed with me.
Even powerful men.
Even dangerous men.
Everyone.
We entered through a side door.
The house was empty.
Dust covered the furniture.
But somehow, it still felt occupied.
Like memories were living inside the walls.
Dominic walked directly toward a hallway.
“How do you know where to go?”
“I don’t.”
I looked at him.
“What?”
He stopped.
Then smiled faintly.
“Your mother was the one who knew.”
I followed him.
At the end of the hallway was an old library.
Thousands of books.
Dark wooden shelves.
A fireplace.
A place where secrets belonged.
I walked inside slowly.
Something felt familiar.
Not because I had been there.
Because my mother had.
Dominic searched the room.
Then stopped.
“There.”
I followed his eyes.
A painting.
An old family portrait.
I walked closer.
My breath caught.
Because standing beside Dominic’s father was my mother.
But there was something else.
A man beside her.
Younger.
Smiling.
My father.
I touched the painting.
“This is him.”
Dominic nodded.
“Yes.”
I felt tears forming.
Not sadness.
Not exactly.
Something stranger.
The feeling of meeting someone you lost before you knew you had lost them.
“Why did she leave?”
Dominic looked at the portrait.
“Because she discovered the truth.”
“What truth?”
Before he could answer, something fell behind the bookshelf.
A hidden compartment opened.
Inside was a small box.
My name was written on it.
Again.
My mother’s handwriting.
I opened it slowly.
Inside was a letter.
And a photograph.
A recent photograph.
My father.
Alive.
Older.
Standing somewhere unfamiliar.
On the back was one sentence.
He has been looking for you too.
I stopped breathing.
Dominic looked at the picture.
Then suddenly his phone rang.
He answered.
A few seconds later, his expression changed.
“What?”
I watched him.
“What happened?”
He lowered the phone slowly.
His face had gone pale.
“Tessa.”
“What?”
His voice was quiet.
“Your father knows where you are.”
The room became silent.
I looked at the photograph.
At the man I had spent my entire life believing was gone.
And then Dominic said the one thing that made everything even more terrifying.
“He’s not coming to find you.”
A pause.
“He’s coming to warn you.”
I stared at him.
“Warn me about what?”
Dominic looked toward the dark hallway.
And for the first time since this began…
He looked afraid.
“About the person who has been protecting you all along.”
My heart stopped.
“Who?”
Dominic looked back at me.
“The person who killed your mother’s chance to come home.”
Silence.
Then the answer came.
And it changed everything.
“Your mother wasn’t running from my family, Tessa.”
May you like
A pause.
“She was running from yours.”
