Chapter 10 - THE WOMAN WHO WOULDN'T LET ME BECOME MY FATHER
Hannah was waiting in the foyer.
She saw Nicholas.
Then me.
Then the tear in the brick dust on his coat.
“What happened?”
“Nothing,” Nicholas said.
She stared.
“Try again.”
“Someone shot at us.”
Her face went white.
I began.
“We’re fine.”
She turned on me.
“That sentence does not improve information.”
Also fair.
Nicholas explained.
One shot.
No injury.
Unknown shooter.
Victor likely but unproven.
Hannah listened.
Then did something nobody expected.
She slapped Nicholas.
Not hard enough to injure him.
Hard enough to shock him.
He touched his cheek.
“I feel like Frank already covered this.”
She hit his shoulder.
“You promised you’d come back.”
“I did.”
“You almost didn’t.”
“I’m here.”
“You don’t get credit for probability!”
Sophie appeared on the staircase.
Hannah froze.
Nicholas instantly lowered his voice.
Sophie looked suspicious.
“Mommy?”
“We’re discussing something.”
“Did Daddy do bad?”
Nicholas looked at Hannah.
“Yes.”
She frowned.
“You always say yes.”
“I’m developing a pattern.”
Sophie came downstairs.
She inspected Nicholas.
“You’re okay?”
“Yes.”
She hugged him.
Then looked at me.
“You too?”
“Yes.”
“Good.”
She walked back upstairs as though adults were exhausting.
They were.
Later, Hannah found me alone in the kitchen.
I had poured bourbon.
Had not touched it.
She sat opposite me.
“You wanted to go after Victor.”
“Yes.”
“But you came home.”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
I stared at the glass.
“Nicholas told me to.”
“That’s the only reason?”
“No.”
I looked toward the stairs.
“Sophie would know.”
“Know what?”
“What kind of man I am.”
Hannah was quiet.
“You care what she thinks.”
“More than expected.”
“She adores you.”
“That’s poor judgment.”
“She’s six.”
“Exactly.”
A smile touched Hannah’s face.
Then she looked at the bourbon.
“What happens now?”
“Police investigate the shooting.”
“You trust them?”
“Enough to investigate bullets.”
“And Victor?”
“Financial cases continue.”
“No revenge?”
I looked at her.
“No.”
She studied my face.
“You’re lying a little.”
“Only emotionally.”
She smiled.
Then became serious.
“Andrew, I’ve spent seven years learning what secrecy does to a family.”
I knew where this was going.
“Nicholas thought danger justified lies.”
“Yes.”
“You think power justifies control.”
I frowned.
“That’s different.”
“Not as much as you think.”
She leaned forward.
“You promise to keep people safe by making decisions for them.”
“I have information they don’t.”
“So did Nicholas.”
That irritated me because it was true.
“You’re comparing me to him.”
“I’m comparing men who love people and then decide love makes consent optional.”
The sentence landed.
I looked away.
“My father did that.”
“What?”
“He called it preparation.”
Hannah waited.
“My father never asked what Nicholas or I wanted. He told us what we would inherit, who we would become, which mistakes were acceptable.”
“And Victor?”
“Made himself useful inside that.”
“You don’t want Sophie learning it.”
“No.”
“Then don’t teach her.”
Simple.
Painfully simple.
The next week, I did something my father would have considered betrayal.
I sat voluntarily with federal prosecutors.
Lawyers present.
Strict boundaries.
I did not confess to crimes I did not commit.
I did not invent heroism.
I provided evidence regarding Victor’s shell companies, the staged death, and attempted violence against Nicholas.
Nicholas testified too.
Lila entered protective custody temporarily.
Marco cooperated.
The case expanded.
Victor’s attorneys attacked our credibility.
Mafia brothers accusing an elderly businessman.
A disgruntled daughter.
A compromised captain.
Fair arguments.
Then accountants produced documents.
Banks produced transfers.
A retired explosives technician identified materials connected to the old warehouse event.
Records showed Victor paid him through a shell company.
The technician had believed the explosion was for insurance fraud.
He had not known Nicholas was supposed to be inside.
For the first time, attempted murder could be proven without relying solely on our testimony.
Victor’s freedom narrowed.
Then Hannah received a message.
COME ALONE IF YOU WANT DANIEL’S REAL MARRIAGE CERTIFICATE.
She showed me immediately.
Old Hannah might have hidden it.
Progress.
Nicholas stared.
“What does that mean?”
Hannah’s face hardened.
“I don’t know.”
The message included an address.
An abandoned parish office in Bay View.
I said, “You’re not going.”
She looked at me.
Then smiled slightly.
“What?”
“You heard yourself?”
I closed my eyes.
“Fine.”
She continued.
“I am going with police.”
I opened my eyes.
That surprised me.
“And you.”
“Why me?”
“Because whoever sent it wants something.”
Nicholas stood.
“I’m coming.”
Hannah shook her head.
“No.”
He stared.
“You’re telling me not to?”
“Yes.”
“That’s unfairly satisfying for you.”
“Extremely.”
The meeting was arranged with detectives.
No secret heroics.
No hidden snipers.
Hannah wore a recording device.
I waited in an adjacent building with officers.
At seven, someone entered the parish office.
Not Victor.
A woman.
Mid-fifties.
I recognized her.
Marian Voss.
Colin Voss’s older sister.
She had once worked as Victor’s bookkeeper.
Hannah sat across from her.
Marian placed an envelope on the table.
“Your marriage is legal.”
Hannah frowned.
“How?”
“Daniel Carter existed.”
Nicholas had assumed the identity of a real man who died as an infant in another state decades earlier.
Through corrupted records and contacts, Victor had helped create the identity long before the warehouse explosion.
That stopped everyone.
Victor had prepared false identities for family members.
Safe identities.
Escape identities.
Nicholas used one.
Marian continued.
“Victor kept every original file.”
“Why give this to me?”
“Because my brother is facing prison for a man who will abandon him.”
“Colin?”
“Yes.”
“What do you want?”
“Protection for him.”
“I can’t promise that.”
“Andrew can.”
Hannah remained calm.
“He won’t.”
I almost laughed from the other room.
She knew me.
Marian stared.
“What will he do?”
“Tell your brother to cooperate honestly and let prosecutors decide.”
Marian looked disappointed.
Then smiled.
“You sound like him.”
“Andrew?”
“Yes.”
“I’ll survive.”
Marian slid another photograph across the table.
Full version of the image with Victor.
But this one showed something else.
A license plate.
Wisconsin government fleet.
The vehicle belonged at the time to a retired police lieutenant named Carl Mercer.
Mercer had handled parts of the original warehouse investigation.
My blood turned cold.
Victor had help inside law enforcement.
That explained how a fake body passed official systems.
How records disappeared.
How nobody questioned the coffin.
Marian handed Hannah a USB drive.
“Mercer kept copies.”
“Of what?”
“Everything.”
“Why?”
“Insurance.”
That word again.
Criminal worlds survive on insurance.
Blackmail is simply another form.
Detectives moved in after Marian finished.
Not to arrest her.
To secure evidence.
That night, Hannah returned to the estate.
Nicholas waited.
She handed him the marriage certificate.
“You were legally Daniel Carter.”
He blinked.
“Apparently.”
“So our marriage is real.”
Relief moved through his face.
“Good.”
She held up one finger.
“Do not interpret that as reconciliation.”
Relief disappeared.
“Understood.”
Then she did something unexpected.
She touched his cheek.
The same one she slapped.
“I’m glad you’re alive.”
Nicholas closed his eyes.
“So am I.”
She stepped away.
“I’m still furious.”
“I know.”
“Possibly for years.”
“Seems fair.”
Progress.
I walked outside.
The night was quiet.
Gabriel joined me.
“Victor’s done.”
“Not yet.”
“Mercer’s records will bury him.”
I looked at him.
“Bad word choice.”
He grimaced.
“Sorry.”
I thought about my father.
Victor.
Nicholas.
The cycle of men deciding violence was efficiency.
Maybe ending it would not happen with one arrest.
Maybe it happened every time someone angry chose not to become the person who hurt them.
My phone buzzed.
Elena Ruiz.
CHILD SERVICES CASE REVIEW COMPLETED. NO SAFETY BASIS FOR REMOVAL. WILL DISCUSS LONG-TERM PLAN TOMORROW.
I read it twice.
Then smiled.
Gabriel raised an eyebrow.
“What?”
“The kids stay.”
He smiled too.
Inside the house, Sophie laughed at something Nicholas said.
Hannah immediately told him not to teach her whatever he was teaching.
The twins began crying.
Then Sophie shouted, “Uncle Andrew!”
I turned toward the door.
Gabriel looked at me.
“Boss?”
“Yes?”
“You’re smiling.”
May you like
“Don’t report it.”
I went inside.
