Chapter 4 - THE MEETING AT PIER 4
The shipyard was a desolate graveyard of rusted shipping containers and towering cranes, illuminated only by the sickly orange glow of sodium lights. I parked my car near Pier 4, leaving the headlights on. The Delaware River slapped against the docks, a rhythmic, haunting sound in the dead of night.
I stepped out, the winter wind cutting through my suit. I had my hand inside my coat, gripping the cold steel of my revolver.
“I said come alone, Vincent.”
A figure stepped out from the shadows of a red shipping container. It wasn't Anthony Romano. It wasn't Rebecca.
It was a man I hadn't seen in two years.
“Dr. Evans?” I said, staring at the former head of oncology from St. Jude’s—the doctor who had treated my mother before she passed away. “What the hell are you doing here?”
Dr. Evans looked nervous, his eyes darting around the empty pier. He was clutching a weathered leather briefcase.
“I didn't want to come back to Philly, Vincent,” he stammered, pulling his coat tighter around himself. “But when I heard Margaret was in the hospital, I knew the truth was going to come out. The blood tests… they can’t be hidden forever.”
“What truth?” I demanded, stepping closer. “What does my wife's pregnancy have to do with you?”
Dr. Evans swallowed hard. “Two years ago, before I moved to Chicago, Margaret came to my private clinic. She was terrified. She asked me to run a clandestine DNA test.”
My grip on the revolver tightened. “On who?”
“On Lily,” Dr. Evans said quietly.
I stopped breathing. The note in the ring flashed in my mind: Time to tell him the truth about Lily.
“And?” I pushed the word out of my throat, dreading the answer.
“Lily is your biological daughter, Vincent,” Dr. Evans said quickly. “There’s no question about that.”
I felt a massive wave of relief wash over me, but it was immediately replaced by confusion. “Then why did Margaret need a test? Why was she terrified?”
Dr. Evans opened the briefcase and pulled out a manila envelope. He held it out to me, his hands shaking.
“Because she wasn't testing to see if you were the father,” Dr. Evans whispered. “She was testing to see if she was the mother.”
I stared at him, unable to comprehend the words. “What are you talking about? She gave birth to Lily. I was in the room!”
“You were in the waiting room, Vincent,” Dr. Evans corrected softly. “Margaret had an emergency C-section, just like today. You didn't see the baby until hours later.”
I ripped the envelope from his hands and tore it open. Inside was a DNA report, stamped with Dr. Evans's clinic seal.
Maternal Probability: 0.00%
The paper fluttered in my trembling hands. “This… this is impossible. If Margaret isn't Lily’s mother… who is?”
“I didn't know at the time,” Dr. Evans said, taking a step back. “But when the results came back negative, Margaret broke down. She confessed everything.”
He looked at me with deep pity. “Six years ago, Margaret was pregnant. But she miscarried at five months. You were away on business, expanding the territory. She knew how badly you wanted a child, how much pressure the family put on her to produce an heir.”
“So she bought a baby?” I asked, my voice rising. “She stole one?”
“No,” a new voice echoed across the pier.
I spun around, raising my gun.
Stepping out from the darkness, flanked by four armed men, was Anthony Romano. He looked older than the last time I saw him, his hair completely silver, but his eyes were just as sharp.
“She didn't steal a baby, Vincent,” Anthony Romano said, stepping into the light of my car’s headlamps. “She made a deal with the only woman desperate enough to give her child away.”
He raised his hand, and his men stepped aside.
Walking behind them, wrapped in a thick wool coat, was Rebecca.
“Rebecca is Lily’s biological mother,” Anthony Romano said, his voice carrying over the wind. “And Dominic was her father.”
The gun in my hand suddenly felt a thousand pounds heavy.
“No,” I whispered, looking at Rebecca. “You said Oliver was Dominic’s son.”
“Oliver is my nephew,” Rebecca said coldly. “My sister’s boy. I adopted him when she died. I used him to get close to you.”
My mind fractured. Lily. My sweet, beautiful little girl who loved piano and yellow dresses. She was Dominic’s daughter. She was my niece.
“Why?” I asked, my voice breaking. “Why would you give your baby to Margaret?”
“Because Dominic was dead!” Rebecca screamed, her composure finally shattering. “Because you let him die in that fire! I was pregnant, alone, and terrified that whoever killed Dominic would come for his child. Margaret offered me money and protection if I gave the baby to her and disappeared. I thought I was keeping my daughter safe.”
“So why come back?” I demanded. “Why torment my wife? Why make me think Oliver was mine?”
Rebecca looked at Anthony Romano, and a terrifying realization dawned on me.
“Because,” Anthony Romano said, stepping forward. “Rebecca didn't just come back for her daughter, Vincent. She came back because the baby Margaret just gave birth to today… is mine.”
I lowered the gun, staring at the Romano boss. “Margaret would never…”
“Margaret was desperate, Vincent,” Anthony said softly. “When Rebecca returned two years ago and threatened to expose the truth about Lily, Margaret came to me for help. She offered me the only thing she had left to secure my protection against your brother's loyalists.”
Anthony Romano pointed to the pocket of my coat.
“She gave me a child. Check the ring, Vincent. It doesn't say A.R. to M.M. It says A.R. and M.M.”
Suddenly, the deafening roar of a car engine tore through the pier. A black SUV slammed into Dr. Evans’s empty car, knocking it into the river with a massive splash.
The doors of the SUV flew open, and my men poured out, led by Paulie.
“Boss, get down!” Paulie yelled, raising his submachine gun.
But I didn't drop. I stood perfectly still, looking at the men who were supposed to be guarding my daughter at home.
“Paulie,” I said, my voice eerily calm over the chaos. “Where is Lily?”
Paulie froze, his face draining of color.
Before he could answer, Anthony Romano smiled, pulling out his phone and showing me the screen.
May you like
It was a live video feed of my living room. Sitting on the couch, still clutching her pink envelope, was Lily. Sitting next to her, gently stroking her hair, was a woman I didn't recognize.
“She’s safe with my wife, Vincent,” Anthony said. “Now, drop the gun, or you will never see Dominic’s daughter again.”
