Chapter 443 - 443: Maya Finds Out The Truth.

Six thousand miles away from Aiysha's sleepless bedroom, Kyle sat on a bench at the top of Primrose Hill and tried to decide where the truth should begin.

Maya was waiting. Her knuckles were still white around the sketchbook.

"Then talk," she had said. "I'm not going anywhere."

Kyle looked out at the skyline. The wind had picked up, tugging at his collar.

"He's your father," he said. "Your real father. You were born Angelica Vescari."

Maya didn't flinch. She had heard the name Angelica before. From him, at the café. From her own dreams, long before that. But hearing it beside a surname made it heavier. More real.

"Angelica Vescari," she repeated quietly.

"When you were four years old, something happened to his family. Something violent." Kyle chose every word carefully. "People came for them. His father, your grandfather, was killed that day."

Maya's breath caught.

"And everyone thought you died with him."

For a long moment, the only sound was the wind.

"Everyone," Maya said. "Including him?"

"Including him. For seventeen years."

She looked down at the sketchbook in her lap. At the worn cover, the curled corners, the years of drawings hidden inside.

"Seventeen years," she whispered. "He thought I was dead for seventeen years."

"Yes."

"Did he look for me?"

Kyle hesitated. He didn't know. He couldn't know. He had only ever heard one version of that day, and it had come from a man trying very hard not to break in front of him. A few sentences. Nothing more.

"I don't think he believed there was anything left to look for," Kyle said honestly. "He thought he'd lost you. That was all he knew."

Maya pressed her lips together and nodded slowly.

"Then where was I?" Her voice was very small. "Between four and fourteen. Where was I?"

"I don't know."

She looked at him sharply.

"I'm not hiding it," Kyle said. "I swear. I don't know how you got to England, or who had you before Susan and David. That's the truth. If I knew, I'd tell you."

Maya searched his face for a long time. Whatever she found there seemed to satisfy her, because she looked away again.

"Okay," she said. "Okay."

-

Kyle let her sit with it.

A jogger passed below them on the path. The man with the golden retriever had moved further down the hill, his dog bounding through the grass after a ball it would never quite catch.

"There's something else," Kyle said eventually.

Maya laughed. It wasn't a happy sound. "Of course there is."

"When you search his name, and you will, you're going to find things." Kyle turned to face her properly for the first time. "Articles. Photos. People talking about him. Some of it will make him sound like a good man. Some of it won't."

"Which one is true?"

"Probably both." He paused. "Your father is a very powerful man, Maya. The kind of power that comes with enemies. That's why what happened to his family happened. That's why I didn't want to give you his name until I could tell you this part myself."

Maya was quiet.

"Is he dangerous?" she asked.

Kyle thought about Marcello in that vast conference room, every family head sent away so there would be no witnesses. About the golden gun resting on the polished table between them. About how close Kyle himself had come to never leaving that mansion.

"To the people who hurt his family," Kyle said, "yes."

"And to me?"

"No." He didn't hesitate this time. "Not to you. Never to you."

Maya studied him. "You sound very sure."

"I've seen his face when he talks about you."

That was true. It was the only part of Marcello that Kyle had ever been completely certain about.

Maya looked down at her hands. Then she opened the sketchbook again and turned the pages slowly until she reached the last drawing. The careful one. The almost-real one. Two large hands holding an open book.

"Does he know?" she asked. "That I'm alive?"

Kyle had known this question was coming. He had dreaded it more than any other.

"Yes," he said. "I told him."

Maya's head snapped up.

"He doesn't know your name," Kyle went on quickly. "He doesn't know where you live. He doesn't know about Susan or David or your school or Leo. He knows Angelica is alive. That's all."

"But you told him."

"I did. Before I ever met you." Kyle held her gaze. "It's a long story, and not a good one. But I haven't told him anything since. And I won't. Not unless you ask me to."

"Why not?"

"Because it's your choice. Not his. Not mine."

Maya stared at him. Her eyes were bright, but nothing fell.

"He's waiting, isn't he," she said softly. "Somewhere. Waiting to hear about me."

Kyle didn't answer. He didn't need to.

-

The sun slipped behind a cloud, and the skyline turned grey for a moment.

Maya closed the sketchbook and held it against her chest. She looked smaller than she had when he arrived. Younger, somehow. Like the girl who had drawn those first rough pencil hands at fifteen without knowing why.

"Can I ask you something?" she said.

"Anything."

"When he talks about me." She swallowed. "What does he say?"

Kyle closed his eyes.

He didn't need to search for it. Extreme Memory Recall brought the moment back as if it were happening in front of him. The empty conference room. The golden gun on the table, still within reach. The Don's shoulders sagging for the first time, his voice rough and quiet, saying words he had probably never said out loud to anyone else.

"She was four years old," Kyle said, repeating it exactly. "Had her whole life ahead of her."

Maya made a sound, quiet and broken, and pressed her face into the top of the sketchbook.

Kyle didn't touch her. He didn't try to comfort her. He just stayed exactly where he was, close enough that she wasn't alone, far enough that she didn't feel trapped.

It took a long time before she lifted her head again.

"I'm not going to search for him tonight," she said, wiping her cheeks with the sleeve of her coat. "Or tomorrow. I don't think I can."

"You don't have to."

"I need to think. About Susan. About David. About what this means for them." Her voice cracked slightly. "They're my parents, Kyle. They're the ones who raised me. I can't just..."

"I know."

"I'm not saying never."

"I know that too."

Maya let out a long, shaky breath. Then, unexpectedly, she smiled. It was small and wet and tired, but it was real.

"You're very annoying," she said. "Do you know that? You show up out of nowhere and turn my whole life upside down, and I can't even hate you for it."

"I get that a lot."

"I bet you do."

She stood up, tucking the sketchbook under her arm. The wind caught her hair, and for a second she looked out over London the way she must have a hundred times before, when everything below seemed too small to touch her.

"Will you promise me something?" she asked.

"If I can."

"Don't tell him anything. Not yet. Not until I say so." She looked down at him. "Even if he asks. Even if it's hard."

Kyle thought about Marcello. About proof the Don had asked for and Kyle still hadn't given. About what it might cost him to keep stalling a man like that.

"I promise," he said quietly.

Maya nodded once.

"I'll message you," she said. "When I'm ready. Whatever that means."

"Take as long as you need, Maya."

She turned and started down the path. Halfway down the slope, she stopped and looked back at him over her shoulder, as if she wanted to say something else.

Then she kept walking.

-

Kyle stayed on the bench long after she had disappeared from sight.

His chest felt hollow. Lighter, in a way, but hollow. He had done the right thing. He was almost sure of it. He had given her the truth, or as much of it as she could carry, and left her the choice.

But he had also made a promise he wasn't sure he could keep.

"Marcello wants proof. Maya wants silence. And I'm standing right in the middle."

His phone buzzed in his pocket.

Kyle pulled it out. Unknown number.

[[Unknown: Long talk. Princess cries. Viktor gets cold vaiting, puppy.]]

Kyle's head snapped up. He scanned the hill. The joggers. The man with the dog. The woman with the pram on the lower path.

Nobody was looking at him. Nobody ever was, until it was too late.

[[Kyle: You were watching.]]

[[Unknown: Viktor always vatches. You know this.]]

[[Kyle: How much did you hear?]]

The three dots appeared. Disappeared. Appeared again.

[[Unknown: Nothing. Viktor reads faces. Puppy makes many promises lately. Viktor hopes puppy can keep all of them.]]

Kyle stared at the screen. Viktor knew. Of course Viktor knew.

Then he put the phone away, pulled his collar up against the wind, and started the long walk back toward the hotel.