Z

I wanted Carlos to be selfish.

That sounds strange.

Cruel, even.

But selfish was ordinary.

Selfish meant he had seen Ethan’s money, read the headlines, and decided Sophie might be a path to a comfortable life.

I could fight selfish.

What terrified me was the possibility that Carlos was connected to everything that had happened before.

To Robert Reed.

To Dad.

To eleven years of lies.

“Maybe he doesn’t know who Malcolm is,” I said.

Ethan didn’t answer.

That was worse.

We were in his study.

Dad’s letters sat in the locked cabinet behind him.

Sophie slept upstairs with Nora.

On Ethan’s desk were photographs of Carlos entering the motel.

Leaving a restaurant.

Meeting Malcolm Pierce in a parking garage.

Three meetings in four days.

“You’ve been tracking him?” I asked.

“Since the phone call.”

“You could’ve told me.”

“I’m telling you now.”

“After your people already followed him.”

“He threatened custody.”

“That doesn’t make him a criminal.”

“No.”

Ethan slid another photograph toward me.

Carlos exchanging an envelope with Malcolm.

“This might.”

I stared at it.

“What’s inside?”

“We don’t know.”

“Then it proves nothing.”

“You’re defending him.”

“I am not defending Carlos.”

My voice rose.

“I’m defending reality. I’m tired of every suspicious photograph becoming a death sentence around people from your world.”

That landed harder than I intended.

Ethan leaned back.

“You’re right.”

I blinked.

Old Ethan would have argued.

New Ethan had become annoyingly capable of admitting when he was wrong.

“But I’m not ignoring it,” he continued.

“Neither am I.”

“We handle it legally.”

I folded my arms.

“What happened to threatening Montenegro bank accounts?”

“Apparently I’m evolving.”

“Slowly.”

“Painfully.”

The next morning, Carlos filed in Cook County family court.

His petition accused me of exposing Sophie to an unsafe environment.

It cited Ethan’s former associations.

The Pier 19 shooting.

The federal investigation.

Security guards around the house.

The attempt on Ethan’s life.

It made my life sound exactly as terrifying as I sometimes feared it was.

My attorney, Melanie Grant, read the filing twice.

Then she looked at me.

“He’s asking for emergency temporary custody.”

The room went silent.

“He wants to take her?”

“He’s asking a judge to place Sophie with him while the larger case is evaluated.”

“That will never happen.”

Melanie didn’t give me the comforting answer I wanted.

“Probably not.”

“Probably?”

“Rachel, Carlos has almost no parenting history. That helps us. But he’s emphasizing Ethan.”

I looked through the glass wall toward the corridor.

Ethan waited outside.

He had insisted on not sitting in the meeting unless I wanted him there.

Another change.

“What should I do?”

“First, establish residency and routine. Second, document everything about Sophie’s care. Medical appointments. Expenses. Childcare. Carlos’s absence.”

“I have all of that.”

“Good.”

“And Ethan?”

Melanie hesitated.

“That’s complicated.”

I hated that word.

“Meaning?”

“Carlos is going to argue your relationship puts Sophie near organized crime.”

“Ethan has never put Sophie in danger.”

“That isn’t completely true.”

My anger rose.

Melanie stayed calm.

“She was targeted indirectly because of his public association with you.”

That was true.

And truth hurt more than accusations.

“Are you saying I need to leave him?”

“No.”

She leaned forward.

“I’m saying courts care about stability, judgment, and risk. Don’t make decisions for optics. Make decisions you can defend honestly.”

That sentence stayed with me.

When the meeting ended, Ethan stood as I walked out.

“What did she say?”

“That Carlos has a case.”

His face hardened.

“A legal argument,” I corrected. “Not a good case.”

“What do you need?”

“Space.”

He went still.

I hated myself for the relief I saw disappear from his expression.

“I mean from everything. I need to think without you fixing it.”

“I can do that.”

“Can you?”

“No.”

Despite myself, I smiled.

“At least you’re self-aware.”

He drove me back to Elena’s apartment.

Not his house.

My choice.

Sophie and I stayed with Elena for several nights.

Ethan called every evening.

Never more than once.

He asked about Sophie.

Then me.

He didn’t ask when we were coming back.

That made me want to go back more.

On the third evening, Elena put a glass of wine in front of me.

“You love him.”

“I know.”

“That sounded miserable.”

“It is.”

She laughed.

“You always choose easy men.”

“Carlos was not easy.”

“He was simple.”

“What’s the difference?”

“Carlos wanted to be loved without being responsible for anything. Ethan wants to be responsible for everything and has no idea how to let himself be loved.”

I stared at her.

“When did you become wise?”

“Trauma.”

“Fair.”

Then the buzzer rang.

Elena frowned.

“I’m not expecting anyone.”

My body tensed.

She checked the camera.

Then looked at me.

“It’s Carlos.”

I stood so quickly the chair scraped backward.

“What?”

He stood downstairs alone.

No lawyer.

No Malcolm.

No security.

Just Carlos.

He looked older than I remembered.

Not much.

Enough.

When Elena opened the apartment door, he glanced past her and saw me holding Sophie.

His face changed.

For one brief second, I believed the emotion in his eyes.

That was the worst part.

“Rachel.”

“What are you doing here?”

“I need to talk.”

“You have a lawyer.”

“So do you.”

“Then use them.”

He looked at Sophie.

“Can I see her?”

“You are seeing her.”

“You know what I mean.”

“No.”

His jaw tightened.

“I’m trying to do this peacefully.”

“You filed to take my daughter.”

“Our daughter.”

“She doesn’t know you.”

“That’s because you kept her from me.”

I almost hit him.

Elena stepped between us.

“Be very careful.”

Carlos took a breath.

Then lowered his voice.

“I don’t actually want custody.”

I froze.

“What?”

“I want the filing withdrawn.”

“You filed it.”

“I know.”

“Then withdraw it.”

“I will.”

He looked toward the hallway.

Nervous.

“After Ethan gives me something.”

There it was.

Money.

“How much?”

Carlos shook his head.

“Not money.”

“Then what?”

“The Morales ledger.”

My blood went cold.

“You know about the ledger?”

He closed his eyes.

That answered everything.

I stepped backward.

“How long?”

“Rachel—”

“How long have you known about my father?”

“Since before I met you.”

Elena whispered, “Oh my God.”

I could barely breathe.

Carlos continued.

“Robert Reed hired people to keep track of both of you after Gabriel disappeared.”

“And you?”

“I was supposed to watch you.”

The room tilted.

“Our relationship?”

He looked at me.

“I didn’t plan that.”

“Did you approach me because of him?”

“Yes.”

One word.

Eight years of my life collapsed around it.

“You came into that restaurant because Robert sent you?”

“Yes.”

“You dated me because you were watching me?”

“At first.”

“At first?”

“I fell in love with you.”

“Don’t.”

“I did.”

“You had a child with me.”

“I know.”

“You watched me give birth.”

His eyes filled.

“I know.”

“Then you left.”

Carlos looked broken now.

“Because Gabriel found me.”

The room went silent.

I stopped breathing.

“My father?”

“Yes.”

“You saw him?”

“Three weeks before Sophie was born.”

My hands began shaking.

“What did he say?”

Carlos looked at my daughter.

“He told me if I stayed near you, Robert would eventually use Sophie too.”

My throat tightened.

“So you ran.”

“Yes.”

“You didn’t tell me?”

“I was afraid.”

“Of Robert?”

“No.”

Carlos looked directly at me.

“Of what your father would do if I didn’t.”

Then he reached into his coat.

Elena tensed.

But Carlos only removed a folded piece of paper.

He handed it to me.

Dad’s handwriting.

Carlos,

Leave Rachel and the child.

Make her hate you if necessary.

If Robert believes she means nothing to you, he may leave them alone.

I will take care of the rest.

G.M.

My vision blurred.

Dad had driven Carlos away.

And Carlos had let me believe I wasn’t worth staying for.

I looked up.

“Why are you back now?”

Carlos swallowed.

“Because Robert may be in prison.”

He glanced at the paper.

“But the man who really ordered your father’s death isn’t.”