Chapter 47 Parker
PARKER
It’s been four days, going on five. I haven’t heard from the guys since two days ago when Cal texted a brief update: Found two more of Ryan’s recruits. Handling it. Boys okay?
I’d responded with a photo of Noah and Liam on the beach, building an elaborate sandcastle with Jimmy and Lottie, all four kids covered in sand and grinning. Cal sent back a single heart emoji.
That was forty-eight hours ago.
The silence is killing me.
Maria’s estate is beautiful—sprawling and elegant in a way that feels both luxurious and lived-in.
The main house is a Mediterranean-style villa with whitewashed walls and terracotta roof tiles, situated on twenty acres of private coastline.
Floor-to-ceiling windows offer views of the Atlantic from almost every room, and the interior is decorated in warm creams and blues that echo the sand and sea outside.
There’s a pool with a waterfall feature that the kids are obsessed with.
A game room with every toy and activity imaginable.
A private beach with tide pools that reveal new treasures every time the water recedes.
Stables with three gentle horses the children are learning to ride under careful supervision.
Gardens that smell like lavender and rosemary.
A greenhouse where Maria grows vegetables and herbs year-round.
It’s paradise.
And I’m going insane.
“Mom! Mom, look!” Liam comes running up from the beach, his swim trunks dripping water, his hair plastered to his head. “I found a hermit crab! A real one! Can I keep him?”
“Where is he?” I ask, crouching down to his level.
Liam carefully opens his cupped hands to reveal a small hermit crab, its shell decorated with barnacles, tiny legs waving frantically.
“He’s very cool,” I say, smiling despite the anxiety churning in my gut. “But hermit crabs need to live in the ocean with their families. How about we take him back to the tide pool and let him go home?”
“But I want to keep him,” Liam protests, his bottom lip jutting out.
“I know, baby. But sometimes we have to let things go back to where they belong, even when we want to keep them close.” The words feel heavier than they should.
Liam considers this, then nods. “Okay. But can we visit him? Like, come back to the tide pool tomorrow and see if he’s still there?”
“Absolutely.”
He runs back toward the beach, carefully holding his hermit crab, Noah and Jimmy racing after him to see what he found.
I watch them go, these four children who look so much alike it’s almost uncanny. All four with similar builds, similar coloring, cousins who could easily pass as siblings.
“They’re having the time of their lives,” Sienna says, appearing beside me with two glasses of iced tea. She hands me one, settling into the Adirondack chair next to mine. “Jimmy was crying this morning because he doesn’t want to go home.”
“Lottie too,” I say, taking the tea gratefully. “Noah asked me if we could just live here forever.”
“Would that be so bad?” Sienna’s voice is teasing but there’s genuine curiosity underneath.
“Yes,” I say immediately. “This is beautiful. This is safe. But it’s not real. It’s hiding.”
“It’s protecting.”
“Same thing.”
Sienna’s quiet for a moment, watching the kids play. Then: “You’re going out of your mind, aren’t you?”
“Completely.” I take a long drink of tea. “I know they’re handling things. I know they’re professionals. I know they can take care of themselves. But—”
“But you want to be there,” Sienna finishes. “You want to be hunting instead of hiding.”
“I want to know they’re okay. I want updates more than once every two days. I want—” I stop, frustrated. “I want to trust that they’ll keep me informed, but the silence is making me crazy.”
“Have you called them?”
“Three times. Jace answered once, said they were fine, they were making progress, and he’d call when he had real news.
Cal answered once, said basically the same thing.
Silas hasn’t answered at all.” I set down my tea with more force than necessary.
“I feel like I’m being managed. Like they decided I can’t handle the truth so they’re just giving me sanitized updates to keep me calm. ”
“Or,” Sienna suggests gently, “they’re trying to let you focus on the boys without worrying about every detail of the operation.”
“I don’t need to be protected from information.”
“I know. But they’re men. They think protection means shielding you from stress.” She smiles. “Charles does the same thing. Drives me insane.”
“How do you handle it?”
“I call him on his bullshit. Tell him I’d rather know the truth and be stressed than be kept in the dark and imagine worst-case scenarios.” She looks at me. “Have you told them that?”
“Not exactly.”
“Then maybe start there. When you see them again—when this is over—tell them you need real updates. Real information. Not sanitized versions designed to keep you calm.”
“Girls!” Maria’s voice calls from the terrace. “Lunch is ready!”
“Coming!” Sienna calls back. Then, quieter, to me: “Your mom has been trying to talk to you for three days, you know.”
My stomach drops. “I know.”
“She knows something’s going on. Something beyond just the attack.” Sienna stands, offering me her hand. “Maybe it’s time to tell her?”
“Maybe,” I say, but I don’t move.
Sienna pulls me up anyway. “Come on. Evelyn made her famous chicken salad. And Maria’s been baking all morning. If we don’t get up there soon, the kids will eat everything.”
Lunch is on the terrace—a long table under a pergola draped with flowering vines, the ocean visible beyond the gardens.
The kids are already seated, fresh from the beach, their hair still damp, talking over each other about hermit crabs and tide pools and the horse Maria promised they could ride this afternoon.
Mom has indeed made her chicken salad—the one with grapes and pecans that I remember from childhood. Maria’s contributed fresh bread, still warm from the oven, and some kind of fruit tart that looks incredible.
It’s idyllic. Perfect. Everything I wanted for my children when I was hiding in California.
So why do I feel like I’m suffocating?
“Parker, sweetheart, you’re not eating,” Mom observes from across the table.
“Just not very hungry.” I force myself to take a bite of chicken salad. It’s delicious, but it might as well be cardboard.
“You’ve barely eaten in days,” my mother presses. “I know you’re worried, but you need to keep your strength up.”
“I’m fine, Mom.”
“You’re not fine.” She sets down her fork. “You’re worried about Jace, Cal, and Silas. Which tells me there’s more going on here than just them being your brother’s friends and business associates.”
The table goes quiet. Even the kids stop talking, sensing the shift in atmosphere.
“Kids,” Maria says smoothly, standing. “Why don’t we go check on the horses? See if they’re ready for those riding lessons I promised.”
“Yes!” All four children chorus, scrambling from their chairs.
“Sienna, would you mind helping me?” Maria asks, her tone making it clear this isn’t really a question.
“Of course.” Sienna shoots me a look that says you’ve got this and follows Maria and the kids toward the stables.
And then it’s just me and my mother, sitting at a table laden with food neither of us is eating, the ocean breeze carrying the scent of salt and flowers.
“Talk to me,” she says gently. “Please. I’m your mother. I know when something’s wrong.”
I take a shaky breath. “Where do I even start?”
“Start wherever feels right.”
So I do.
I tell her about the night of Charles and Sienna’s wedding. About how I’d been fighting feelings for Jace, Cal, and Silas for years—convincing myself they were just my brother’s annoying friends, that my attraction was just proximity, that I could control it.
I tell her about how those feelings shifted. From they’re annoying to they’re annoying because I like them to they’re annoying because I love them and that terrifies me.
I tell her about that night. About all three of them. About waking up knowing I was in love and knowing I had to run because Dominic would destroy them—would use them, manipulate them, turn their feelings for me into weapons against Charles.
“So I left,” I say, my voice thick. “I ran. Found out I was pregnant six weeks later. Found out it was twins. Found out—” I stop, the words catching in my throat.
“Found out what?” she asks softly.
“Found out they have different fathers.” I force myself to meet her eyes. “Heteropaternal superfecundation. It’s rare but it happens. Two eggs, fertilized by two different men during the same cycle. The hospital confirmed it when they were born.”
Her face cycles through shock, understanding, and then something that might be acceptance.
“Jace, Cal, and Silas,” she says slowly. “Two of them are the fathers.”
“Yes.”
“Do they know?”
“They know the boys might be theirs. They know about the heteropaternal superfecundation—that the twins have different fathers. I took DNA samples from all three of them a few days ago, right before the attack.” I pause.
“My friend emailed me the results two days ago, but I haven’t opened them.
I told them I wanted us to look at the results together. All four of us.”
“But they’re not here,” she says gently.
“No. They’re in the city hunting Ryan and Aria. And I’m here with the boys, where I should be, but—” I stop. “I want to know. I want to finally have answers. But I want them there when I find out.”
“Does Charles know?”
“That the boys have different biological fathers? Yes. That those fathers are his three best friends?” I shake my head. “No. He’s oblivious. Or he’s choosing to be oblivious. I’m not sure which.”
My mom is quiet for a long moment, processing. Then: “You love them. All three of them.”
It’s not a question.