Chapter 6 - THE NIGHT CHARLES HAYES DIED
Dylan had always been told his father died from an aneurysm.
Charles Hayes collapsed in his office one November evening when Dylan was nine.
There was no autopsy.
Victoria said the family wanted privacy.
Dylan remembered standing at the funeral beside his mother.
He remembered the snow.
He remembered a dark-haired woman near the cemetery gates.
He had forgotten her until that Christmas Eve.
Now the image returned.
She had been crying.
And she had looked strangely familiar.
Dylan sat beside the fireplace with Noah asleep against his chest.
Olivia watched him.
The scene should have been tender.
Instead, they were discussing murder.
Victoria stared at the flames.
“Charles discovered North Winter after Rebecca disappeared.”
Dylan spoke without emotion.
“You said Rebecca was his lover.”
“She was.”
“And possibly pregnant with his child.”
“Yes.”
“What did he do when she vanished?”
“He lost his mind searching for her.”
Margaret interrupted.
“Michael did too.”
Victoria nodded.
“They eventually began working together.”
Olivia stared.
“My father and Dylan’s father?”
“Yes.”
That explained the boxes.
The Hayes references.
The unexplained meetings.
Victoria continued.
“North Winter was not a company. It was a network.”
“Who ran it?”
“I don’t know.”
Dylan laughed.
“You expect me to believe that?”
“I knew names. Not the hierarchy.”
“Give me the names.”
“Most are dead.”
“Then give me the living ones.”
Victoria looked away.
Dylan stood.
“Give me the names.”
Noah stirred.
Olivia immediately approached.
“Lower your voice.”
Dylan’s anger vanished.
He looked down at the baby.
“Sorry.”
Olivia reached toward Noah.
Dylan hesitated before handing him back.
The hesitation surprised them both.
He already did not want to let the child go.
Olivia saw that.
Her expression softened for one second.
Then she remembered eight months of abandonment.
The softness vanished.
Victoria noticed.
“You should hate him.”
Olivia’s eyes snapped toward her.
“What?”
“He abandoned you.”
Dylan flinched.
Victoria continued.
“He accused you.”
“Stop,” Dylan said.
“He left you pregnant and alone.”
“Stop.”
“You should despise him.”
Olivia stared at Victoria.
Then slowly understood.
“You want me to.”
Victoria remained silent.
“You still want us separated.”
“I want you safe.”
“No,” Olivia said.
“You want him isolated.”
Victoria’s jaw tightened.
Olivia looked at Dylan.
“That’s what she’s done your entire life, hasn’t she?”
Dylan said nothing.
“She controls who gets close enough to influence you.”
Victoria stood.
“That is absurd.”
“Your father.”
Victoria froze.
“Rebecca.”
Olivia continued.
“Me.”
“Enough.”
“And now Noah.”
Victoria slapped Olivia.
The sound cracked through the room.
Dylan moved instantly.
He stepped between them and shoved his mother backward.
Not violently.
But decisively.
“Get out.”
Victoria stared at him.
“You chose her.”
“No.”
Dylan’s breathing was hard.
“I chose my son.”
The words hit Olivia too.
Dylan looked at her.
The room fell silent.
Victoria slowly picked up her gloves.
“You think this is over?”
Dylan said nothing.
She turned toward the door.
Before leaving, she looked back.
“Ask Margaret what was found beside your father’s body.”
Margaret stiffened.
Dylan looked at her.
Victoria smiled sadly.
“She never told you.”
Then she left.
Dylan locked the door.
He turned.
“What was found?”
Margaret looked devastated.
“I was hoping you’d never have to know.”
“What?”
She sat down.
“In Charles’s hand.”
Dylan waited.
“A photograph.”
“Of what?”
“Rebecca.”
Dylan closed his eyes.
Margaret continued.
“There was writing on the back.”
“What did it say?”
Margaret looked toward Olivia.
Then Dylan.
“Find the child before North Winter does.”
Nobody spoke.
Olivia slowly looked at Noah.
Dylan saw it.
“No.”
Margaret shook her head.
“That message was written twenty-eight years ago.”
“Then it can’t be about Noah.”
“No.”
“Whose child?”
May you like
Margaret answered.
“Rebecca’s.”
