Chapter 2 - THE LETTERS HE NEVER READ
For several seconds, nobody spoke.
Cold wind moved across Bethesda Fountain, lifting the loose ends of my scarf and sending dry leaves skittering over the stone.
Sebastian kept staring at the children.
Not casually.
Not curiously.
He looked at them the way a man looks at a photograph of his own childhood after believing it was lost forever.
Owen had Sebastian’s eyes.
Noah had his stubborn mouth.
Ivy looked more like me, but when she frowned, one eyebrow lifted slightly higher than the other.
That belonged to Sebastian too.
Clarissa broke the silence.
“This is ridiculous.”
Sebastian didn’t look at her.
“Go home.”
Her face changed.
“Excuse me?”
“I said go home.”
“We’re supposed to meet my father at—”
“Not anymore.”
The control in his voice was worse than shouting.
Clarissa glanced at me, then at the children.
Something about her expression bothered me.
It wasn’t only jealousy.
It was recognition.
For half a second, I could have sworn she already knew.
Then she turned and walked away.
Sebastian waited until she was twenty feet distant.
“Where are the letters?”
I almost laughed.
“You mean the ones you never wanted?”
“Maya.”
“I don’t keep four-year-old rejection souvenirs beside the cereal.”
“Did you save anything?”
“Some copies.”
“Where?”
“At home.”
“Let me see them.”
“No.”
His jaw tightened.
“You just told me someone may have deliberately prevented me from knowing I had three children.”
“And I spent four years believing you wanted exactly that.”
“Then one of us was lied to.”
“Probably both.”
That stopped him.
For the first time, the anger in his face cracked enough for me to see the hurt beneath it.
“Come somewhere private.”
“No.”
“Maya.”
“You don’t get to issue orders.”
“I’m trying not to have this conversation beside a public fountain while strangers photograph us.”
I looked around.
He was right.
People had begun noticing Sebastian Vale.
Two teenagers had their phones out.
A man near the stairs was already whispering to someone.
I hated that Sebastian’s world could make three children interesting to strangers within minutes.
“Fine,” I said. “Ten minutes.”
“My car is—”
“We are not getting into your car.”
Something almost like amusement passed through his face.
“You haven’t changed.”
“I have three reasons not to be stupid anymore.”
We walked to a quiet café across the park.
Sebastian’s security remained outside.
I kept the stroller beside me.
Noah and Ivy shared a muffin.
Owen stared at Sebastian.
“You look like me.”
I nearly choked on my coffee.
Sebastian’s eyes softened.
“I was thinking the same thing.”
“Are you Mommy’s friend?”
I stared at my cup.
Sebastian answered carefully.
“I used to be.”
“Then why did she run?”
Children should come with warning labels.
Sebastian looked at me.
“I’m still trying to understand that.”
I cut in.
“Eat your muffin.”
Owen accepted the redirection for exactly eight seconds.
Then he asked, “Why were you married?”
Sebastian blinked.
I closed my eyes.
“Ivy told him,” Noah announced.
Ivy looked offended.
“I heard Mommy say it.”
Wonderful.
Sebastian leaned back.
“You’ve told them about me?”
“No.”
“Then how—”
“They’ve asked questions. I said I was married once.”
“To me?”
“I didn’t give them a name.”
His expression tightened.
He had spent less than an hour knowing these children existed, and already every missing detail seemed to hurt him.
I understood.
I also refused to comfort him.
Not yet.
Sebastian lowered his voice.
“The security director you spoke to. Describe him.”
“Older. Balding. Thick glasses.”
“Name?”
“Walter Briggs.”
Sebastian went completely still.
“You’re sure?”
“Yes.”
He took out his phone and sent a message.
“Who are you contacting?”
“My head of security.”
“What happened to Briggs?”
“He retired three years ago.”
“Convenient.”
“He didn’t retire.”
The way Sebastian said it changed the air.
“What do you mean?”
“He disappeared.”
I stared.
“When?”
“Two days after my grandfather died.”
Sebastian’s grandfather, Arthur Vale, had died eighteen months earlier.
Officially, peacefully.
At eighty-one.
Sebastian continued.
“Briggs emptied his apartment, closed his accounts, and vanished.”
“You investigated?”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“Because he handled sensitive family matters for twenty-five years.”
I swallowed.
“What kind of sensitive matters?”
Sebastian looked at the children.
“Not something we discuss here.”
That answer reminded me exactly who I had once married.
Sebastian Vale did not only inherit hotels, shipping companies, real estate, and private equity.
He inherited old alliances.
Old enemies.
And a family structure where “security” could mean far more than guards at a door.
My phone buzzed.
A text from my landlord.
MAYA, CALL ME. SOME MEN ARE OUTSIDE YOUR BUILDING ASKING QUESTIONS ABOUT YOU AND THE KIDS.
My stomach dropped.
Sebastian saw my face.
“What?”
“Nothing.”
“Maya.”
I stood.
“We’re leaving.”
He stood too.
“What happened?”
I pushed the stroller toward the door.
He caught up.
Not touching me.
Just close.
“Someone is at my building.”
“What someone?”
“I don’t know.”
“Asking?”
“About us.”
His entire posture changed.
“Give me the address.”
“No.”
“Not negotiable.”
I spun around.
“Everything about my children is negotiable because I am their mother.”
“And if someone connected to my family has been watching you?”
“You don’t know that.”
“No.”
He looked at Owen.
“But I know Briggs vanished after my grandfather died.”
He looked back at me.
“And I know Arthur Vale was capable of destroying people while convincing himself he was protecting the family.”
That was the first time Sebastian had ever spoken about his grandfather without reverence.
My anger paused.
“What aren’t you telling me?”
His phone rang.
He answered.
“Talk.”
I watched his face change.
“Where?”
Silence.
“Bring everything.”
He disconnected.
“What?”
“My security team checked archived access records from Vale Tower.”
My heart began beating harder.
“And?”
“The day you said you came to see me, your name appears in the visitor system.”
“So?”
“You were there.”
“I told you.”
“No.”
He looked sick.
“I mean your visit was logged as authorized.”
“By whom?”
He hesitated.
“My grandfather.”
Cold rushed through me.
“He knew I was there.”
“Yes.”
“Did he tell you?”
“No.”
Sebastian’s voice turned quiet.
“But that isn’t the worst part.”
“What is?”
“You were signed into a private conference room for forty-seven minutes.”
I remembered.
Briggs had taken me there.
Made me wait.
Then returned with a sealed envelope containing my unopened letters.
He told me Sebastian had ordered them returned.
I had cried in that room until I couldn’t breathe.
Sebastian continued.
“There’s an audio-surveillance archive.”
My stomach tightened.
“What?”
“My grandfather recorded sensitive rooms.”
“Without telling anyone?”
“He told almost no one.”
“Is the recording still there?”
“That’s what my team is retrieving.”
We reached the sidewalk.
Sebastian’s SUV waited across the street.
I looked at my children.
Then at him.
“If that recording proves you knew—”
“It won’t.”
“You can’t know that.”
“Yes.”
He stepped closer.
“Because if I had known you were carrying my children, Maya, there is no force on this earth that could have kept me away.”
I wanted not to believe him.
Then my phone rang.
My landlord.
I answered.
“Maya?”
“Yes.”
“You need to come home.”
“What happened?”
A shaky breath.
“Someone got inside your apartment.”
My blood froze.
“Are the police there?”
“Yes.”
“Did they take anything?”
“I don’t know.”
“Were the children’s rooms—”
“I’m sorry.”
His voice cracked.
“The place is torn apart.”
Sebastian heard.
He signaled to his men.
Within seconds the SUV doors opened.
This time, I didn’t argue.
Thirty minutes later, we stood inside my apartment.
Drawers emptied.
Cushions cut.
Closets torn apart.
But no television stolen.
No laptop.
No jewelry.
Sebastian walked directly to my bedroom.
I followed.
The small metal box beneath my bed was open.
Empty.
I stopped breathing.
“What was inside?” he asked.
“The letters.”
His face hardened.
“All of them?”
“The copies.”
“What else?”
I thought.
Then remembered.
“One thing.”
“What?”
“The envelope Briggs gave me at Vale Tower.”
Sebastian stared.
“You kept it?”
“Yes.”
“What was inside?”
I looked at him.
“The divorce settlement you supposedly wrote yourself.”
Something dangerous entered his expression.
“I didn’t write a settlement.”
My knees weakened.
“What?”
“I told my lawyers to give you half of everything acquired during the marriage.”
I almost laughed.
“I received fifty thousand dollars.”
Sebastian’s face went white.
“The settlement listed five million.”
We stared at each other.
Someone had changed the papers.
Blocked the letters.
Hidden the pregnancy.
And four years later, that same person—or someone protecting them—had just broken into my home to steal the evidence.
Then Noah called from the hallway.
“Mommy?”
I turned.
He held a small black object.
“I found this under my bed.”
Sebastian took one look and swore.
“What is it?”
“A listening device.”
I felt the room tilt.
“How long?”
His security man examined it.
“Hard to say.”
Sebastian looked at me.
Then at the triplets.
Someone had not discovered us today.
May you like
Someone had been listening to my children long before Sebastian saw them in Central Park.
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