Chapter 27
A baby.
The words resonate weirdly within me. Words that I would never have associated with myself. Not in an excited sense anyway. But as I sit in my office at the resort, I can’t stop from looking at the monochromatic colored picture of my child that’s thriving in its mother’s womb.
When we saw Benicio, he had been just as eager as us to find out if the test was correct or if Echo had a hormonal pregnancy. The instant that he used the ultrasound machine, and the little blip showed itself, we all froze. Echo had clasped my hand in nervousness, but the look of worry on her face as she held her breath had bothered me more than I liked.
I had sworn I would eliminate every threat to her, and now I had more of a reason to hold up my end of the bargain.
I would do anything to protect her and my child.
I will do anything to protect them.
This feeling is foreign.
I’m not entirely sure what to do with it, along with how to control the urge to be by her side every second of every fucking moment, but it’s been a testing few days.
Even forcing myself to stay at work today has proven difficult. Not checking the cameras to see what she’s doing has proved even harder.
My thoughts are disturbed by the quick knock on my office door, then it opens, and Gio steps in. My best friend’s eyes fall suspiciously on me as he enters my office. “Cosa stai facendo?”
I shake my head. “Nothing. What’s wrong?”
My fingers release my phone that was in my grip as I debated checking the live feed at the house.
In response, Gio shrugs, indicating he has time to kill. “What did Benicio say?”
I recall that I didn’t tell him about Echo’s positive test or the news from the appointment. Only that I was taking her. When we returned from Italy, I gave Gio time off to himself. He doesn’t enjoy stepping in for me, but he knows that as my second, he will have to when I’m unavailable. So, whenever he is able to, I give him uninterrupted time away.
Everyone said he did an excellent job, and I agree. The entire time I was gone, he only called me when necessary, and aside from a few texts, he didn’t need much for the almost three weeks we were away. But the minute we returned, he stressed he never wants to be Don or have those responsibilities.
I gave him a week to regenerate. What he did, or who he did it with, doesn’t matter to me.
Rather than answer his question, I hand him the sonogram. “Zio Gio.”
Confused, he takes the picture. His brow creases as he looks at it for a long time, then recognition dawns on him. My friend exclaims. The only person who has voiced any verbal excitement. “Veramente?”
I nod. “Si. Eight or nine weeks, I think he said.”
Taking another long look, he hands it back to me, a massive smile on his face. “I told you it would happen, no? How is she feeling? How are you feeling?”
I admit to myself that while Gio did say that, the way I made it happen is horrible. I had constantly voiced to him that nothing was happening. Not that I was complaining about the incessant fucking. After years of pinned-up energy, getting it out with someone I also enjoyed being with felt good.
A good portion of my youth had been spent fucking any girl that gave me the time of the day. I found I wasn’t as compelled the older I got. So, in the last few years, I worked on taking over for my uncle and growing my legal Bianchi businesses.
I can’t stop the smile on my face. I don’t want to stop it. “You did.”
I look down when my phone rings and see an unknown number. “She’s feeling good right now. Still the same.”
There hadn’t been much change in the last few days since I had found her in the bathroom with the tests. Aside from always seeing her yawning, I hadn’t bothered her much about her symptoms. That’s what Benicio is for. Plus, whenever I mention it to her, she seems distant, like she’s preparing for the worst.
Not that I would allow it.
“Good.”
Gio laughs, then grows quiet when I reach for the phone.
I pick it up. “Damiano Bianchi.”
“Hello, Mr. Bianchi. This is Dr. Helmstead.”
Who? I’m quiet for a second. “Helmstead?”
“Yes, sir. I’m your Uncle’s new doctor. I’m replacing Doctor Al-Humdi, who retired recently.”
I remember suddenly. Nodding my head, I recall that the doctor can’t see me and say, “Yes, Dr. Helmstead.”
Dr. Al-Humdi had been at our hospital for over sixty years. Initially recruited because he had saved a former Don’s son, The Families later wanted him because he was the best surgeon in the states. It had taken some persuasion, but he eventually came to work for The Families with two stipulations: He had the right to refuse treatment to anybody who disrespected him. There would never be any bloodshed in the hospital. With Dr. Al-Humdi came with a barrage of doctors throughout the years, all reporting through him until recently.
It makes me wonder how The Council decided on Dr. Helmstead for his replacement.
“Great. So, I was actually looking over your uncle’s chart and records and wanted to call with an update.”
Apprehensive, I sigh. It isn't good when the word update presents itself in a conversation. Especially in my uncle's case. “Okay.”
The doctor must expect more from me, because it’s quiet for some time. “Well, it seems, Mr. Bianchi, that your uncle’s cancer isn’t responding to the treatment and has spread.”
Spread?
I inhale a sharp breath. I felt this was happening with my uncle when Dr. Al-Humdi kept saying they were trying aggressive tactics that weren't used the first time. The first time my uncle had cancer, it was stage one. He’d caught it extra early due to an ache that my aunt had insisted he see the doctor about.
This time, it had immediately shown as stage four and aggressive.
Initially, my uncle declined treatment, living life to the fullest for as long as he could. As a stubborn old fool, he figures that he’s lived his life. Somehow, I had convinced him to try treatment again, and if it didn’t help, we would stop.
“Dr. Al-Humdi mentioned the last time we spoke that if he responded to the treatment–”
I stop, accepting the finality of the situation. “How long?”
Dr. Helmstead sighs on the other end. “We’re looking at maybe three months, maybe less.”
Fuck.
Across from me, Gio patiently waits for the conversation to end so I can tell him the news. “Have you spoken with my uncle about this?”
“Yes, that's why I’m calling you. Dr. Al-Humdi had you down as the immediate contact. Your uncle decided to suspend all treatment and said that he’d be returning home.”
I can almost hear my uncle’s words. He probably added that if he was dying, then he refused to die in a hospital bed. Seeing my aunt fade away as a different cancer claimed her slowly had broken him.
“Okay, thank you for the update.”
Dr. Helmstead tells me a few other things about my uncle’s health, and we hang up. It takes a second for me to get my emotions under control. I breathe in and out with measured, intentional purpose, hoping to stop the rage that bubbles to the surface. My elbows perch on the desk, and my hands clasp each other, my knuckles covering my mouth.
Forcing better thoughts to the front, I exhale a breath I was holding. I focus on something positive.
Echo…. Her beauty….. How she makes me feel…. That she’s pregnant…. That she’s carrying our baby….. That I’m going to be a father.
Fuck.
My uncle won’t be alive to meet my child.
I look up at Gio, and though he already knows the news I’ve received, I sigh. Despite never being claimed by my father, my uncle took him in instantly and treated him the same way he treated me.
Like a son.
Gio, while not voicing it, has been floating in the same boat of denial as me regarding my uncle’s health. My uncle’s death will hurt all of us far more than he knows. The world will lose a fair man who has always deserved a better life but made the best of what he was given.
I relay exactly what Dr. Helmstead told me. “Why don’t you go home?”
Gio asks me. “If there is nothing for you to do here, don’t stay.”
I wish.
I shake my head. I have a meeting with the builder for our new site in an hour. I will probably go by my uncle’s house today, too, to ensure that everything is getting cleaned for his arrival and that the house is set up to make his last days comfortable. Dr. Helmstead said there will be staff around the clock at my uncle’s house to aid him, but I need to vet them first.
More has been placed on my plate with only one phone call.
Gio nods, allowing a moment of silence to pass before he clears his throat. “So, I tracked down the person who took the pictures of Echo and her–”
He falters until I raise an eyebrow. “Blaine Mitchell.”
Now, my interest is piqued. “And?”
Gio chuckles. “He’s a private investigator named Keith Sims.”
We’re disturbed by the ring of Gio’s phone, and he silences it without regarding it. “Initially, he wasn’t in the mood to talk to us. He claimed he knew who we were and what we did, but after some persuasion, he told us everything.”
I nod. “Good. Alive?”
Gio tsks at me. “Yes, I am not you.”
I’m not offended by his words, but we both laugh. “It was one time. He grabbed the gun.”
We laugh a second time about the past indiscretion that my uncle made us clean up ourselves as a lesson so many years ago.
Gio sighs, returning to the present. “It turns out Blaine paid him to follow them and take pictures. Sims says that Blaine reached out to him to find out what it would cost to follow his wife that he suspected was cheating.”
“Wife?”
I feel my heart speed up, but a coldness spreads through me. One part of me wants to storm out of the office and to pull answers from Echo, demanding why she never told me she was married to him. The other part wants to find Blaine Mitchell and end him. I want to obliterate his name off the fucking earth. Yet, I’m also angry with myself for not seeing it. Even though she avidly claimed he was nothing more, her past expressed more.
“No, it looks like he said that to get Sims to sympathize with him and take the job, " which he did. He told me that he found it weird that neither wore rings, were hardly together, and that Echo would disappear a lot. He also figured that it wasn’t his business since Blaine paid three times his standard charge for tailing.”
Three times?
All too aware that even with Blaine being a data analytics engineer with the FBI, it’s still a lot to pay someone to follow a spouse.
He was working with someone else, that’s obvious. We have no time to discuss finding out who he worked for, though I’m sure Gio is looking into that himself. “Sims also found it weird that Echo didn’t have a job, but money.”
I nod, dismissive of the idea. “She said her foster parents helped her set up something after her parents died. They had to put the money under a different name and whatnot, but they also left her cash.”
It’s no surprise that Echo has money, though it raises a few more questions than I like. It makes me wonder where the cash that she told me about is. From looking into her finances, I know the amount of money in her only account under her name doesn’t have a substantial sum.
At least nothing that would make someone like myself blink twice.
“Yes, that was what he said as well. He had gotten access to her bank statements. We exchanged some ideas, but he said the only thing he couldn’t find out was where she would disappear.”
“Does he have the dates that she disappeared?”
“Yes. He texted them to me. I’ll forward it to you.”
Gio pulls out his phone, following through with what he said. “I asked him if he knew what Blaine was doing with the pictures he took and if there were any other reason he would need them. So, he told me that he also started following Blaine.”
My phone pings with Gio's text, but I continue looking at him. “What did he find out?”
A smile crosses my best friend’s face, and I know the details will get deeper.
“It looks like Blaine works for Tommaso.”
“Yeah?”
“Little things here or there over five years or so. His younger brother got into trouble, and Blaine worked off his debt, but couldn’t get out of working for Tommaso.”
It makes sense. Once you’re in this life, there’s no way out. “Most of the things he’s worked on were regarding Echo, though. Her history, places she lived, or might have lived. Any affiliations she had while in WITSEC or underground, or if any communication has been kept with people from her past. They even got her doctor’s record from when she was in the hospital after her family’s deaths.”
I shake my head. They were like dogs after bones, which only brings more questions to the light. I know that this has to do with Echo, the baby she lost, and something they found out, but no real answers have come forward.
“What did they need her doctor’s records for?”
I ask. “Shouldn’t those have been sealed?”
The question, once out, sounds far more juvenile than I intended it to. Simultaneously, we both chuckle. Nothing is unattainable for us if it’s needed.
Anything can be acquired at the right price or by accident.
Blaine was the right person to get the job done.
“Blaine.”
I stop Gio before he can finish telling me about the records. “He was looking into her for Tommaso. Do you think seducing her was a part of their plan?”
The answer will determine if his death is quick or slow.
“I’m not entirely sure, but I doubt they would have wanted him to go to the depths he did for information. From what I saw at the wedding, Aldo still wants her.”
My eyes cut to Gio, and he raises his hands. “It’s an undeniable observation. He devoured her with his eyes the entire time he was there. Plus, he risked everything to see her in the bathroom.”
I don’t like to think about it, but I remember. Aldo looked like a lonely, starving man. Finding out he’d snuck in the bathroom had filled me with a rage I didn’t know I contained.
“I should have killed him and Tommaso then.”
I revert to the point of this conversation. “What were they looking at her records for?”
“Forged records, I assume, or hidden information. They’ve been searching for her a long time.”
Silence passes between us, and a sigh escapes my mouth, which sounds more like a groan. Every time I start to get somewhere in my relationship with Echo, something changes things and makes it difficult. But I knew this wouldn’t be easy once I looked into her– Once I became obsessed with having her.
There are so many secrets that she’s not willing to let me know, and at this point, I’m sure there’s a reason, but I don’t want to press her for answers with the worry that she’ll bring her guard back up.
And while I hate to admit it, I like the vulnerability and neediness that pregnancy has brought out of Echo, though I know her strength and madness is right beneath.
Across from me, seated in the chair, Gio lays his phone down on his leg. “I just sent you the records that Sims got access to.”
I nod. “Anything else?”
I’m tired and ready to call it a day. I’ve been in the office since five this morning when I couldn’t sleep anymore and didn’t want to wake Echo up with my tossing and turning. Trying to deal with the Rossi family and everything else quietly is coming to the forefront.
Exhausted, spread thin, and grumpy, I don’t respond, but I open the document, which makes no sense. I close out of it. “I’ll have Benicio look at it. He should know what forged records look like.”
“I agree,”
Gio says. “I’m not sure what they’re hiding or what Tommaso was looking for.”
I know what he’s looking for, but I don’t know why. Echo made it clear that her son had died, and there was no hint of a lie in her tone. None that I could detect, at least. But then I have to remind myself that my wife, despite her most recent show of emotions, has been practicing her lies for over a decade.
There is a possibility that the baby survived, and to protect him, she claimed that he was dead.
It would make the most sense.
“Did Sims have any information regarding her son? Or did Marino get back to you?”
Gio tsks, then shakes his head. “Sims says records look like the baby died shortly after being born. Nothing more, nothing less.”
For a second, he looks nervous. “I haven’t heard from Marino but will reach out to him.
“He said that he called you.”
The quick expression that passes over my best friend’s face alerts me that he’s nervous about me mentioning Marino. He doesn’t say anything immediately, but I see him schooling his emotions.
“He did? You talked to him?”
“I did.”
Gio’s hand twitches, and he moves it to lay over his knees, but I notice how tense his fingers are. “He might have left a message.”
“No.”
Gio shakes his head. “He didn’t leave any messages. What did he say?”
I shrug. “You know Marino. He said he had a hunch and would call me when he knew more.”
“Ah, okay.”
Gio stands, but his energy is still off. “I’ll call him today.”
Instead of voicing my thoughts, I stand and look at Gio when I realize what time it is. Another meeting means another minute away from where I want to be.