Page 51 of Before Broken Vows
"Your father wanted proof of the termination. He said it was the only way you and I would ever be safe from enemies." I swallow hard. "Said it was the only way he'd let me disappear."
Theo doesn't respond, but I can tell he's gripping the paper tightly, fighting to maintain control.
He pulls out the next document and looks it over.
"That's Xander's birth certificate."
The official document from Los Angeles County bears our son's full name: Xander Milonakis. But the father's line has "Theo Kastaris" written across it in red ink. Not by me, but by whoever found us.
"I left the father's information blank when he was born," I say, my voice weak. "I never denied you were his father. I just wanted to protect him from what that might mean."
Theo studies the certificate. I see the flicker of pain in his eyes at not being named officially as the father. Then his focus turns to the red ink.
"When did you get this?"
"A week ago," I say, clearing my throat. "Left in my mailbox."
He nods and looks inside and finds the picture.
He stares at it longer than the other two things.
"That was taken recently," I say, holding back tears. "Outside Xander's daycare in LA."
In the picture, I'm lifting Xander into my arms. His little backpack is decorated with dinosaurs. His dark hair is wild in the wind, and he's smiling at me—that perfect smile of his. But there's a small red circle drawn around his face, and another around mine. Like targets.
Whoever took that picture was a close shot.
Too close.
"He has your smile," Theo says. "But the rest..."
"Is you," I finish. "All you."
It's brief. But it's the first second of a moment we've ever shared about our son. Just that quick interaction breathes a life into me I never knew.
It goes away when I see Theo turn the picture around and read the note. The reason I'm here. The reason I finally stopped running.
Theo's eyes darken as he reads the words I've memorized from staring at them since receiving all this. Those words—the cause of all my sleepless nights this past week.
Secrets this big never stay buried.
He looks just like his father.
Wonder how long that'll keep him alive.
P.S. Be careful. Children vanish every day.
Theo stiffens.
His hands shake from rage as he grips the edges of the photo. There's a moment of silence as I see his eyes scan the words over and over, committing them to memory.
The raw fury that washes over his face is terrifying—and yet, somehow comforting. Because this is what I came for. This is what Xander needs. This is what I need.
The wrath of Theo Kastaris, channeled in our defense.
"Jesus Christ, Stassi," he finally says, starting to pace. "They are watching you closely."
I nod.
