CHAPTER 2 — THE CHILD WHO SHOULD NOT EXIST
The silence after Lena’s words did not break.
It tightened.
Roman stood still, as if any movement would fracture something already hanging by a thread between them. His men behind him did not speak. Even the restaurant noises—plates, voices, kitchen calls—felt distant, like the world had stepped back out of respect for something violent about to happen.
“You think I chose this?” Roman said finally.
Lena crossed her arms.
“I think you chose everything else.”
That landed harder than she intended.
A muscle in his jaw jumped. For a second, something almost raw crossed his face—anger, grief, exhaustion. Or all three tangled together.
Then his gaze shifted again.
To the kitchen door.
To where Caspian had gone.
“I didn’t know about him,” Roman said quietly.
Lena laughed again, sharper this time.
“You don’t get to say that like it fixes anything.”
“I was dead, Lena.”
“No.” Her voice dropped dangerously low. “You were gone. Dead is what I was forced to believe so I could survive you.”
That word—survive—hit differently.
Roman looked like he wanted to step closer.
He didn’t.
Because something in her posture said if he did, she would break him in half or walk away forever. Maybe both.
Behind him, one of the men shifted slightly.
Roman lifted a hand without looking back.
Instant silence.
He still had that kind of power.
Lena noticed.
And hated that she noticed.
“You have men watching my dining room,” she said.
“They’re not here for you.”
“That’s funny,” she said coldly. “Because everything about you feels like it’s here for me.”
Roman exhaled slowly through his nose.
“I came because I got a file.”
That stopped her.
A file.
Her stomach tightened.
Roman reached into his coat and pulled out a thin black folder.
He didn’t open it.
Just held it.
“I didn’t believe it at first,” he said. “Then I saw the date.”
Lena didn’t move.
“What file?”
His eyes flicked once toward the kitchen again.
Then back to her.
“A birth certificate,” he said. “With my name on it.”
The air dropped.
Lena felt it physically, like the floor shifted.
“That’s impossible,” she said instantly.
Roman finally opened the folder.
He didn’t show her yet.
“I thought so too.”
He stepped forward half a step.
Not toward her.
Toward truth.
“I was alive, Lena,” he said. “Just not free. Not for years.”
Her heart beat once, hard.
“What are you talking about?”
Roman hesitated.
That hesitation told her everything.
Whatever he had been through—whatever he had become—it wasn’t something spoken lightly.
Before he could answer, the kitchen door swung open.
Caspian walked out.
Holding his worksheet.
“Mom,” he said, “Maria gave me—”
He stopped.
Because he saw Roman again.
Properly this time.
Up close.
Caspian tilted his head slightly.
Curious.
Unafraid.
Roman froze completely.
For the first time since entering Harlo’s, his control slipped.
Because the boy was real.
Not theory.
Not file.
Not suspicion.
Real.
Caspian stepped closer to Lena’s side.
Then looked up at Roman.
“You’re tall,” he said.
Lena closed her eyes for half a second.
“Cass—”
“It’s okay,” Roman said immediately.
Too fast.
Too careful.
Caspian frowned.
“You know my mom?”
A beat.
Roman looked at Lena.
Then back at the boy.
“Yes,” he said.
Something in his voice cracked on the word.
Caspian nodded like that made sense.
Then he did something that destroyed everything in a single innocent motion.
He said:
“Are you my dad?”
The restaurant didn’t just go silent.
It collapsed into silence.
Even Lena stopped breathing.
Roman didn’t answer immediately.
Because his entire life had just narrowed to one question.
One child.
One truth.
One impossible moment.
His throat moved once.
“Lena…” he said, but not as a demand.
As a plea.
Caspian looked between them.
“Mom?” he asked again, softer now.
Lena felt something inside her split.
Not anger.
Not fear.
Something deeper.
Seven years of survival built on one lie.
She crouched slowly and put a hand on Caspian’s shoulder.
“No,” she said firmly.
Caspian blinked.
Roman’s face tightened.
Lena looked straight at him.
“He is not your father.”
A silence so sharp it felt like glass.
Roman stared at her.
“You’re lying,” he said quietly.
Lena stood up.
“No,” she said again. “I’m protecting him.”
Caspian looked confused now.
“Then who is he?”
Lena hesitated.
That hesitation was enough.
Roman saw it.
And understood something far worse than anger.
She had been alone.
For years.
With his child.
And he had not been there.
Roman closed the folder slowly.
Not because he accepted it.
Because if he kept looking at it, he might lose control completely.
“I didn’t die,” he said quietly. “I was taken.”
Lena stiffened.
“That’s your story now?”
“It’s the truth.”
“You don’t get truth after seven years,” she snapped. “You get consequences.”
A sudden sound came from the front door.
Not loud.
But intentional.
A second group had arrived.
Roman’s men shifted instantly.
One of them stepped closer to him.
“Boss,” he muttered.
Roman didn’t look away from Lena.
“Not now.”
But it was already too late.
Because Lena saw them.
And she understood.
This wasn’t just reunion.
This was danger arriving late.
And Caspian, sensing the change in air, stepped closer to his mother’s leg.
Roman noticed immediately.
His entire expression changed again.
From power.
To something dangerously close to fear.
“They found me,” he said quietly.
Lena narrowed her eyes.
“Who?”
Roman’s voice dropped.
“The people who erased me.”
May you like
And for the first time since he walked into Harlo’s—
Chicago’s most feared man looked like he was not the one in control of the war he had just brought into her life.
