Chapter 8 - GABRIEL’S FATHER
Gabriel dismissed everyone except Harper and Mrs. Morrison.
Leo was taken downstairs.
Nobody asked where.
Harper paced the library.
“You told me your father was dead.”
“He is.”
“When?”
“Three years ago.”
Her eyes widened.
“The warehouse.”
Gabriel nodded.
“That was the week before he died.”
Harper rubbed her temples.
Memory returned in pieces.
She had been twenty-four.
Broke.
Working through a cleaning agency.
The Seaport warehouse had been an overnight job.
No questions.
Cash bonus.
She had opened the wrong door.
Inside, an older man was tied to a chair.
Gabriel’s father stood nearby.
Arthur Ashford.
Harper remembered his silver hair.
His beautiful coat.
His calm voice.
And the blood.
She had backed away before anyone saw her.
Or she thought nobody saw.
“What happened to the prisoner?” Gabriel asked.
“I don’t know.”
“Think.”
Harper closed her eyes.
A sound.
A voice.
Numbers.
“Your father kept asking him about… ledgers.”
Gabriel went still.
“What ledgers?”
“I don’t know.”
“Harper.”
“I don’t know!”
She opened her eyes.
“I was terrified.”
Gabriel backed off.
“Okay.”
“I heard a name.”
“What name?”
Harper struggled.
“Michael.”
Mrs. Morrison dropped the teacup in her hand.
It shattered.
Harper turned.
Gabriel stared at the older woman.
“Morrison?”
Her face had gone pale.
She whispered, “Michael Queen.”
Harper stopped breathing.
“My father?”
Gabriel looked at her.
“Your father’s name was Michael?”
“Yes.”
Harper’s voice cracked.
“He died when I was ten.”
Mrs. Morrison sank into a chair.
“No.”
Harper stared at her.
“What do you mean, no?”
The older woman looked toward Gabriel.
“His death was staged.”
Harper laughed once.
It sounded broken.
“My father drowned.”
“That’s what you were told.”
Harper stepped forward.
“How do you know?”
Mrs. Morrison’s eyes filled.
“Because I helped him disappear.”
Silence swallowed the room.
Harper couldn’t move.
Gabriel whispered, “You knew her father?”
“For years.”
“Why didn’t you tell me?”
“Because Arthur would have killed the children.”
Harper felt dizzy.
“Children?”
“You.”
Mrs. Morrison’s voice trembled.
“And Noah.”
Harper grabbed the desk.
“Noah wasn’t born when my father died.”
Mrs. Morrison looked at her.
“Exactly.”
Harper stared.
Then understood.
“No.”
“Harper—”
“No.”
Her mother had never spoken about Noah’s father.
She always said it didn’t matter.
Mrs. Morrison’s tears finally fell.
“Michael Queen wasn’t only your father.”
Harper shook her head.
“He was Noah’s too.”
Gabriel looked stunned.
“That’s impossible.”
“No.”
Mrs. Morrison wiped her face.
“Michael returned secretly years later. Harper’s mother still loved him. Noah was born after that.”
Harper stumbled backward.
“My mother lied to me.”
“She protected you.”
“From what?”
Mrs. Morrison looked toward Gabriel.
“Arthur Ashford.”
Gabriel’s face hardened.
“What did my father want with Michael?”
“Michael was his accountant.”
Gabriel whispered a curse.
Mrs. Morrison continued.
“He kept records.”
“The ledgers,” Harper said.
She nodded.
“Names. Judges. Police officers. Politicians. Businesses. Murders. Bribes.”
Gabriel slowly sat down.
“Where are they?”
“I don’t know.”
Harper remembered Derek’s obsession with her belongings.
How he always searched old boxes.
How furious he became when she threw anything away.
She suddenly understood.
“He married me because of my father.”
Gabriel looked at her.
Harper’s face crumpled.
“Derek didn’t find me by accident.”
Mrs. Morrison whispered, “No.”
Harper’s phone rang.
Unknown number.
Gabriel answered.
A distorted voice spoke.
“We want Michael Queen’s ledger.”
Harper looked at him.
The voice continued.
“Give it to us by midnight.”
May you like
A pause.
“Or we start with the boy.”
