Chapter 5 - THE FATHER MATTHEW CHOSE
Damian returned home with Matthew's broken watch in his pocket.
He could feel its weight with every step.
Sophie was in the breakfast room building a city from wooden blocks.
When she saw him, she smiled.
“You're late.”
“I know.”
“You missed pancakes.”
“A serious mistake.”
“Rachel says breakfast is important.”
Damian looked toward Rachel.
She had stopped near the doorway.
Her face was tired.
Her father had broken her heart that morning.
Damian knew better than to pretend otherwise.
Sophie held up a crooked wooden tower.
“This is your office.”
“It looks unsafe.”
“It has a dragon.”
“That explains the building code violations.”
Sophie giggled.
Then her eyes moved behind him.
Isabel stood in the hall.
Everything in the room changed.
Sophie went quiet.
Isabel didn't move closer.
Rachel had insisted on that.
No rushing.
No demanding.
No expectation that a seven-year-old should understand four years of adult failure because the adults were finally ready to talk.
Sophie looked at Damian.
“Can she come in?”
He nodded.
“If you want.”
Sophie looked at Isabel.
“You can.”
Isabel entered.
She sat across from Sophie rather than beside her.
For nearly a minute, neither spoke.
Then Sophie picked up a wooden fox.
“I have two foxes now.”
Isabel smiled through tears.
“I remember.”
Sophie examined her.
“Were you sick?”
“Yes.”
“For a long time?”
“Yes.”
“Did you forget me?”
Isabel's face broke slightly.
“Never in my heart.”
Rachel's eyes lowered.
Sophie considered that answer.
Children had a gift for detecting when adults gave them too many words.
“Did your head forget?”
Isabel nodded.
“Sometimes.”
Sophie placed the wooden fox near her.
“You can borrow this one.”
Isabel covered her mouth.
“Thank you.”
That was all Sophie offered.
It was enough.
Later, while Mrs. Bell took Sophie outside, Damian found Isabel in the library.
Matthew's Polaroid lay on the desk.
“I need the truth.”
Isabel looked at him.
“You deserve it.”
“No.”
His voice softened.
“Sophie does.”
That changed something between them.
Isabel sat down.
“The last time you and I were together was October.”
Damian remembered.
A rainy night.
An argument about danger.
A goodbye neither had handled well.
“I found out in December.”
“Sophie was mine.”
“Yes.”
The certainty hit differently than Frank's broken words.
Damian looked at Matthew's watch.
“And Matthew knew.”
“From the day I told him.”
“Why put his name on everything?”
“Because Arturo couldn't claim the child of Matthew Marino without exposing what he knew.”
Damian frowned.
“He could still control Matthew.”
“No.”
A faint smile touched Isabel's face.
“Matthew was the one person in your family your father consistently underestimated.”
That sounded exactly right.
Matthew had been funny.
Warm.
Apparently harmless.
Men like Arturo mistook kindness for weakness.
“What did Matthew want?”
“For you to know.”
Damian looked up.
“Then why didn't he tell me?”
“Because you had just taken control of three of Arturo's companies. There had been shootings. Threats. Matthew said if Arturo learned you knew Sophie was yours, he would force you to choose between protecting your position and protecting her.”
Damian hated that Matthew had understood his father so well.
“He decided for me.”
“Yes.”
Isabel did not soften it.
“So did I.”
Damian nodded once.
“Thank you for saying that.”
She looked surprised.
“You're angry.”
“I am.”
“At me?”
“At everyone.”
“Good.”
He almost smiled.
Almost.
Isabel reached into the inside pocket of her coat.
She removed another photograph.
Not a hospital photograph.
A picture taken in a small backyard.
Matthew sat in a lawn chair holding six-month-old Sophie.
Isabel stood beside him.
On the back, Matthew had written:
SHE HAS DAMIAN'S FROWN. GOD HELP US.
Damian laughed.
One sound.
Then he covered his eyes.
Rachel had entered without either noticing.
She stopped.
“Sorry.”
“No.”
Damian wiped his face.
“Stay.”
Isabel handed her the photograph.
Rachel read the back.
“He wasn't angry.”
“No,” Isabel said.
“Matthew loved Sophie from the beginning.”
Damian looked at the photograph again.
The man he thought had stolen years with his daughter had actually given her four safe years.
Another truth turned upside down.
Rachel touched Matthew's broken watch on the desk.
“Frank said Matthew told him not to let Arturo take Sophie.”
Isabel nodded.
“Matthew knew what Arturo planned.”
Damian's voice hardened.
“Which was?”
“To take Sophie from us.”
“Why?”
“Your father believed blood mattered more than parenthood.”
Isabel looked toward the window where Sophie was chasing leaves.
“He told Mercer that once you had a biological heir, the child belonged inside the Marino family.”
Rachel's expression chilled.
“As an asset.”
“Yes.”
Damian stood.
“My father was many things.”
He stared outside.
“But I never imagined—”
“You were his son.”
Isabel's voice remained gentle.
“That made him harder for you to see clearly, not easier.”
Damian knew she was right.
Claire entered.
Nobody had invited her.
For once, she looked uncertain in her own family home.
Damian didn't tell her to leave.
Not yet.
“I heard Sophie laughing.”
Isabel's expression closed.
Claire stopped.
“I won't go near her.”
“Good.”
“I just wanted—”
“Claire.”
Damian faced his sister.
“Did you know Mercer hit Matthew's car?”
Her face changed.
There it was.
“Yes.”
Rachel stared at her.
“When?”
“After.”
“How long after?”
Claire looked at the floor.
“Minutes.”
Damian's hands curled.
“You were there.”
“I followed them.”
Isabel stood.
“You told me you weren't.”
Claire looked at her.
“I lied.”
“Obviously.”
“I was trying to stop Dad.”
“By following us?”
“By warning you.”
Isabel laughed.
“You could have called.”
“Dad had my phone.”
That sounded absurd.
Then Claire continued.
“He knew I'd helped with Sophie's birth. He knew I was still talking to Matthew. He had someone watching me.”
Damian asked, “Why didn't you tell me?”
“Because you were already fighting him.”
Her eyes filled.
“And because I was afraid.”
Damian's expression hardened.
“We were all afraid.”
“I know.”
“No. You keep using those words.”
He stepped closer.
“But fear does not explain four years.”
Claire took that.
She didn't defend herself.
Rachel noticed.
Maybe Claire had finally run out of defenses.
Claire looked at Isabel.
“The crash happened near the old reservoir road. Mercer forced Matthew toward the guardrail.”
Isabel closed her eyes.
“I remember headlights.”
“Matthew got the SUV sideways. That's why Sophie survived.”
Damian stared.
“And you?”
“I arrived less than two minutes later.”
“What did you see?”
Claire began shaking.
“Matthew was bleeding. Frank Hayes was trying to keep him conscious.”
Rachel's eyes filled.
“Isabel was unconscious. Sophie was screaming.”
Claire looked at Damian.
“And Mercer's car was turning around.”
“To finish it?”
“No.”
Claire swallowed.
“To take Sophie.”
The room went silent.
“What did you do?” Damian asked.
“I took her first.”
Isabel stared.
“You took Sophie?”
“I carried her into my car and drove her to Mercy Children's.”
Rachel frowned.
“But the official report says Sophie arrived by ambulance.”
“I brought her around the rear entrance. Mercer couldn't know where she'd gone.”
Damian saw the shape of it now.
Claire's first lie had protected Sophie.
The later lies had protected Claire.
That distinction mattered.
It did not absolve her.
Isabel's eyes narrowed.
“And me?”
Claire cried.
“Mercer took you.”
“You let him.”
“I thought you were dying.”
“You let him.”
“Yes.”
The word tore out of Claire.
“Yes.”
Damian looked at his sister.
“What about Matthew?”
Claire's voice almost disappeared.
“He grabbed my wrist before I left.”
Matthew's broken watch seemed louder though it had not ticked in four years.
“What did he say?”
Claire looked at Damian.
“He said, ‘Don't let Arturo raise Damian's daughter.’”
Damian's throat tightened.
Claire began crying harder.
“I promised him.”
Then Isabel asked the question nobody had yet asked.
“And after Arturo died?”
Claire froze.
Eighteen months ago.
Arturo had died.
Isabel had said her mind had been clear for eighteen months.
Exactly the same amount of time.
Rachel understood first.
“Oh, Claire.”
Claire covered her face.
Isabel's voice broke.
“You could have let me come home.”
Claire whispered, “Yes.”
“Why didn't you?”
Claire lowered her hands.
“Because by then, the person I was protecting Sophie from wasn't Arturo.”
Damian stared at her.
“Who was it?”
Claire looked toward the door.
May you like
Then at him.
“Me.”
