Chapter 4 - MY SON TOLD ME WHY HE DIDN'T TRUST ME
Victor Sloane had known me since I was seventeen.
He taught me how to recognize a lie.
How to negotiate without raising my voice.
How to make a room uncomfortable simply by remaining silent.
Now he stood in my study, looking at a photograph that might connect him to the disappearance of a mother.
And he had just told me I should have left my son alone.
I closed the study door.
“What does that mean?”
Victor placed his drink on my desk.
“You've been following Noah.”
I stared.
“How do you know?”
“I know what happens around your family.”
“That wasn't my question.”
Victor sighed.
“Gabriel, your son has been visiting a girl connected to a sensitive matter.”
“Sensitive?”
“Financial.”
“Her mother is missing.”
“Yes.”
“And her daughter says men wearing my emblem took her.”
Victor's face remained calm.
“Children misunderstand things.”
I took one slow step closer.
“Then explain the photograph.”
He glanced at it.
“Harborline meeting. Routine.”
“Who is the man in the gray coat?”
“Consultant.”
“Name.”
Victor hesitated.
That was new.
Victor never hesitated when he knew the answer.
“I'm not sure.”
I looked at the black ring on his hand.
Silver falcon.
Same design.
“Who else wears those?”
“Senior personnel.”
“Which senior personnel?”
“Gabriel.”
His voice hardened.
“Where is this going?”
I stared at him.
“Toward the truth.”
Victor smiled sadly.
“You sound like Elena.”
The name hit me.
My wife had been dead four years.
Victor knew I hated hearing her invoked in business arguments.
“Don't.”
“She always thought you could live outside the life you inherited.”
I said nothing.
He continued.
“And now you're risking everything because a child told you a frightening story.”
I looked toward the framed photograph of Elena and Noah on my desk.
Elena had been a school counselor before we married.
She believed people were complicated.
That frightened people often said things badly.
That children understood more than adults gave them credit for.
And that my business was slowly taking away the person she married.
I had dismissed those concerns because I made enough money to bury most consequences.
Not anymore.
“Did you know Leah Mercer was missing?” I asked.
Victor looked directly at me.
“Yes.”
“How long?”
“Since it happened.”
My chest tightened.
“Twenty-three days?”
“Yes.”
“And you didn't tell me?”
“It wasn't your concern.”
I almost laughed.
“My charitable foundation is involved.”
“Indirectly.”
“My security vehicles are involved.”
“Allegedly.”
“My son is involved.”
Victor's face changed.
“That's why I'm concerned.”
I stared.
“About Noah?”
“Of course.”
“Then tell me what happened.”
For several seconds, Victor said nothing.
Finally he adjusted his jacket.
“Walk away from Harborline, Gabriel.”
The room became very quiet.
“Why?”
“Because things are more complicated than you realize.”
“Make them simpler.”
He shook his head.
“You hired me to protect this family.”
“I hired you to protect people.”
“Sometimes that's not the same thing.”
I felt cold.
He wasn't denying enough.
He wasn't answering anything.
But he knew something.
Something dangerous.
I looked at the door.
“You're relieved of responsibility for Noah's security, effective immediately.”
Victor went still.
“Gabriel.”
“Turn over the access cards and his travel schedules.”
“Don't be irrational.”
“Now.”
His jaw tightened.
For a moment, I thought he might refuse.
Then he removed a security pass and placed it on my desk.
“You'll regret humiliating me.”
I stared.
“Maybe.”
Victor walked toward the door.
Before leaving, he turned.
“Your father understood loyalty.”
I looked at him.
“My father taught me to recognize threats.”
Victor's expression became unreadable.
“Then I hope you're recognizing the right one.”
He left.
I stood alone for several minutes.
Then I called Detective Brooks.
She answered immediately.
“Did you speak to Sloane?”
“Yes.”
“Was that wise?”
“Probably not.”
“Did he admit anything?”
“Nothing useful.”
I described the conversation.
She listened.
Then said, “Do not confront him again without arranging your safety through us.”
I almost laughed.
For years, I had considered police protection an insult.
Now I was being advised to accept it because the man who used to protect my family might be dangerous.
“What about Wren?”
“She's with Mrs. Finch. We have officers coordinating their safety.”
“And Noah?”
“Bring him home. Keep his routine limited until we assess the threat.”
I ended the call.
Then I went upstairs.
Noah was sitting on his bedroom floor surrounded by schoolbooks.
He looked up when I entered.
“Dad?”
“Can we talk?”
His expression tightened.
I sat beside him.
Not on the armchair.
On the floor.
He looked surprised.
“I didn't know you could sit there.”
I almost smiled.
“Neither did I.”
Silence.
Then I asked:
“Why didn't you tell me about Wren?”
He stared at his hands.
“I thought you'd be mad.”
“I know. But why?”
He shrugged.
I waited.
That was something I was learning.
Children sometimes needed silence more than questions.
Finally he said:
“Because you always make things disappear.”
I felt my heartbeat change.
“What do you mean?”
He picked at the corner of his textbook.
“When someone bothers you, you call Victor.”
I said nothing.
“And then they go away.”
My throat tightened.
“Noah.”
“The gardener who broke the fountain?”
I remembered.
His name was Mr. Alvarez.
He accidentally damaged an expensive stone fountain while trimming the grounds.
Victor fired him.
I never asked what happened afterward.
Noah continued.
“He had a little boy.”
I stared.
“How do you know?”
“He brought him to work once.”
I remembered vaguely.
“And Victor told him he was finished.”
“I know.”
“Mr. Alvarez cried.”
My stomach twisted.
I hadn't known.
Or perhaps I had chosen not to.
Noah looked at me.
“I thought if you knew about Wren, you'd make her go away too.”
That sentence hurt more than any accusation from an enemy.
I had built an empire based on control.
And my twelve-year-old son believed I used that control to erase inconvenient people.
I looked toward the framed photograph on his nightstand.
Elena holding him as a toddler.
She was smiling.
He was laughing.
I remembered taking that photograph.
For a moment, the room felt unbearable.
“Noah.”
He looked at me.
“I'm sorry.”
He frowned.
“For what?”
“For making you think helping someone was dangerous.”
His eyes filled.
I continued.
“And for letting other people decide how I treated people who needed work.”
He stared.
I swallowed.
“I can't change what you saw. But I can change what happens next.”
He looked doubtful.
Fair.
Then he asked:
“Are you going to help Wren find her mom?”
“Yes.”
“Even if your friends don't want you to?”
I took a breath.
“Especially then.”
Noah nodded slowly.
Then he shifted closer and rested his head against my shoulder.
It was such a small movement.
But I almost cried.
For four years, I'd been trying to replace Elena's absence with money.
That night, for the first time, I understood that my son had never been asking for more things.
He had been waiting for me to sit beside him.
A moment later, Noah whispered:
“Dad?”
“Yes?”
“There's something I didn't tell Wren.”
My body tensed.
“What?”
“On Friday, I saw the gray-coat man again.”
I turned.
“Where?”
“Outside school.”
My blood went cold.
“Did he speak to you?”
Noah shook his head.
“He just watched.”
Then he reached into his backpack.
Pulled out a folded paper.
And handed it to me.
Someone had slipped it into his locker.
May you like
Only five words were written across the page.
STOP FEEDING THE LITTLE GIRL.
