Chapter 19
Chapter Nineteen
Ryan
I rushed to gather my things and drove to the preschool. Traffic slowed me down. I watched the clock, anxiety rising. Pedro hated it when I was late.
Finally made it. Mary stood at the entrance, face tight.
"Mrs. Harrison, we need to talk." She pulled me aside.
"What happened?"
"Pedro got in a fight today. A bad one." Mary sighed. "The other boy's nose was bleeding."
"What?" I couldn't believe it. "Why?"
Mary shook her head. "He won't say. The other kids claim they were just playing around, then Pedro lost it and went after the boy."
"God." I closed my eyes. "Where is he now?"
"Reading corner. He's been there an hour. Won't talk to anyone."
I hurried into the classroom. Pedro was curled up in the corner, tear tracks on his face, but his jaw set stubbornly to keep from crying out loud.
That expression... identical to that man when he was angry.
"Pedro?"
He looked up and saw me. The tears broke free instantly. Next second, he crashed into my arms, his small body shaking violently.
"Mommy... Mommy..."
"Shh, it's okay, baby. Mommy's here." I patted his back. "Can you tell Mommy why you fought?"
"They... they called me names, and said I... I'm unwanted... a bastard... Jim... he said... he said Mommy must've done something bad, that's why... that's why... I don't have a daddy... Why... why don't I have... a daddy? Is it because... I wasn't good? Did Daddy... did he leave... because of me?"
My heart felt like it was being shredded. I knew raising a child alone would be hard, but I never imagined it would hurt him this deeply. But I couldn't tell him the truth. How do you tell a three-year-old that his father is New York's most dangerous mob boss?
"No! Baby, this isn't your fault!" I almost shouted it. "It's Mommy's fault..." I held him helplessly, tears falling into his hair.
A middle-aged man in a suit walked toward us, anger clear on his face.
"Your son's the one who hit Jim?"
"I'm so sorry, sir. Really, truly sorry!" I quickly wiped my tears, moving Pedro behind me. "Pedro, say you're—"
"No!" Pedro screamed. "Jim called me names first! Made fun of me for not having a daddy!"
"Isn't that the truth, though?" The man sneered. "Lady, I don't know how you're raising this kid. If you can't control your child, don't let him out to hurt others."
I clenched my fists. "Sir, I really am sorry. But from what I understand, your son started—"
"What are you trying to say?" He cut me off. "Violence is wrong, period! What did Jim say that wasn't true? Doesn't even know who his own father is. Who knows what you did to—"
"Enough!" I snapped. "Jim led other kids in calling Pedro nasty names, bullying him. That's okay? Jim has a father, but is this how a father teaches his kid?"
"So what? Just words. Jim's the one who got hurt!"
"Just words?" I stepped forward. "Verbal bullying causes psychological damage. If Pedro develops autism or depression because of Jim, I won't just sue—I'll demand compensation for medical costs and emotional distress. Don't want this to escalate? Control Jim."
"You—"
"I'll cover Jim's medical bills," I continued. "But if you keep being unreasonable, we can go see the director together and review the security footage."
The man's face flushed red. He glared at me, then turned and dragged Jim away. "You'll regret this."
On the drive home, Pedro stayed silent, just watching the scenery blur past the window.
Our home was in Professor Village Community, an ordinary two-story wooden house. Nothing like Ronan's mansion, but it was safe, quiet, and most importantly, no one here knew my past.
I parked the car and led Pedro inside, washed his hands first, then sat him down at the dining table.
"Pedro? Hungry?"
He shook his head. I'd made his favorite mac and cheese, even added the little sausage bits he loved, but he just pushed the food around his plate with his fork.
I set down my fork and sat beside him. "Want to talk?"
He looked up at me, blue eyes full of confusion. "Mommy, where's Daddy?"
This wasn't the first time he'd asked, but today it cut especially deep.
"Daddy's... far away."
"Why?"
"Because..." I took a deep breath. "Remember your favorite koalas? Daddy's protecting them."
I felt guilty for this makeshift lie.
"Really?" His eyes lit up briefly. "Daddy's saving koalas?"
"Yes." I nodded. "And baby kangaroos too. Their homes were destroyed by wildfires. Daddy's helping rebuild."
"When's he coming back?"
"It'll be a while, baby." I pulled him onto my lap. "There are so many animals that need help. Daddy has to make sure they're all safe before he can leave."
"Can I call him? Tell him I like koalas too."
"Baby, Daddy's very busy. We can't interrupt him while he's rescuing animals."
"But..." He looked up at me. "Aiden said his dad travels a lot for work, but he video calls every night. Why can't my daddy?"
"Because... because every daddy's job is different." I stroked his hair. "Your daddy does something very special."
He leaned against me, little hand clutching my shirt. "I want to show Daddy my koala drawing."
"You can show him. But for now, let Mommy be with you, okay?"
He was quiet for a long time, then whispered, "I love you, Mommy. But I still want Daddy to come home. Even just for one day."
I finally got Pedro to sleep. Too much had happened today—he was restless.
I went downstairs and poured myself a glass of red wine. Through the living room window, the quiet street stretched out, Stanford's clock tower glowing in the distance. Nights like this always made me think of New York.
I opened my phone, finger hovering over the photo album. After a long hesitation, I entered the password. The hidden folder held only a few photos. Each one a blade.
Easter Sunday. Ronan holding a colored egg. The smile looked awkward, but it was the most genuine I'd ever seen on him.
Rose's family portrait. She'd drawn the three of us together, big smiles on every face.
Long Island beach. The three of us in silhouette against the sunset. Ronan had Rose on his shoulders, me laughing beside them.
That was the closest we'd ever come to being a normal family. I stared at Ronan's face for a long time. In the photo, he looked so tender. If that day hadn't happened...
Back then, I had nowhere to go but Lulu's place. She felt for me but was helpless. If Ronan was mafia, with the kind of reach Victoria described, I couldn't hide. I scrolled through my contacts. One name jumped out. Nick. Despite no contact since that night at the club, maybe he could help.
I reached Nick through a payphone and asked for help. Nick agreed without hesitation. His readiness shocked me, but my situation didn't allow me to question his motives. I had to trust this man who'd once helped me on the street.
Nick moved fast. Within an hour, he'd sorted my identity documents, even slipped me cash before I left. Under the protection of this new identity—Emily Harrison—I boarded a Greyhound headed west. Five days and nights of rattling roads, arriving in California exhausted with Pedro still in my belly.
Those first California days weren't easy. After pregnancy expenses and rent, I had less than five hundred dollars left. That whole month, I lived in constant fear, terrified I'd open the door to find Ronan's cold gray eyes staring back.
I dreamed of the past countless times. Dreamed of Ronan's clumsy attempts to please me, of our sweet moments on Long Island beach. But every dream dissolved into the image of Ronan killing Dustin, jolting me awake.
Now my career was on track. I had my own psychology practice. I thought I'd escaped that man's shadow, but today shattered that self-deception. Some wounds carved into the soul never heal. And I'd robbed Pedro of the right to a complete family—a debt I could never repay in this lifetime.
I sipped the wine, then headed back to my room. Turned off my phone and set it facedown on the nightstand. Another sleepless night ahead.