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“It took a while, but Matias started losing his memory, and Manuel took over. He didn’t know who I was. That idiot didn’t know anything but how to snort coke. He was the one who hired me. But you were in the States more often than not at the time. I had to prove myself, so I was given work that kept me away from the mansion. Matias was ill, and Manuel took you with him every time he took the old man for treatments in New York. I was making plans to steal you away when you returned.”
“And then I ran away.” Nova had helped me escape my tormentor.
“Yes,” he agreed. “My first thought was to find you, but Manuel was so angry. He kept talking about what he was going to do to you if he got his hands on you. He was manic and high most of the time, talking nonsense. I didn’t know who Sheena O’Brion was, but he kept mentioning her. I decided to stick around, just in case. When he took you and brought you back here, I was gone. He’d ordered several men to watch the coke fields, said he was going to take them back and to await his signal. I guess he was waiting for Vitucci’s guard to be down from the loss of Nova, and then he would take the fields back by force.”
“Probably,” I muttered.
“I was there for a week before Maria called me, so it was before you were even taken from New York. She hadn’t seen Manuel bring you in, but when she heard female screams coming from the dungeon, she let me know right away. She remembered me from before, when your mother was my wife. She knew you were my daughter.”
I sucked in a surprised gasp. “She tried to help me once, but it didn’t end well for her. She was lucky Manuel didn’t kill her.”
“She’s never mentioned it to me…” He drifted off, his eyes going vacant for a moment as he considered what I’d told him. Shaking his head, he continued. “I was just coming in the door when Nova shot the bastard on the stairs.” His lips tilted up in a ghost of a smile. “She nearly shot me but stopped at the last second. Her reflexes are…unnaturally well trained.”
“And then some,” I said with a tight laugh. “I think Anya Vitucci got her hands on Nova at a young age. But she hasn’t confided in me whether that is true or not.”
“I’ve heard of the Vitucci queen,” Guzman said, his voice full of awe. “If what you say is true, then Nova is a very valuable asset.”
“She’s probably going to leave us in a few days,” I confided. It surprised me that I so easily believed him, but the pain and anger in his voice as he’d explained left no doubt in my mind that he spoke the truth.
Yet I didn’t know how I felt about all of it. My mother told me my father died; obviously, that was a lie. All that time, I’d had someone out there in the world who cared about me, wanted to be a part of my life—would have protected me from Manuel, damn it.
And she’d denied me that.
Maybe she didn’t know what would happen to me after her death, but she should have at least told me that my biological father was still alive. It should have been my decision to make if I wanted him to be a part of my life or not. After she was gone, I’d needed someone, and though Matias had loved me in his own way, he’d been blind to the danger I was in beneath the roof we shared.
My mother had been selfish, something I never would have suspected from her. But as I looked back, it all became glaringly obvious to me. She was definitely not the person I had thought her to be.
We were both quiet for a long moment before I glanced at Guzman again. “Is Guzman your real name?”
“My full legal name is Juan Guzman Gómez. It’s the name that should have been on your original birth certificate.”
“I never saw it,” I admitted. “I’ve only seen the one that has Matias as my father after he adopted me.”
“I figured as much,” he said sadly.
“Do you have any family left?”
He shook his head. “My parents both passed while I was in prison, and I didn’t have any siblings.”
“I’m sorry.”
“As am I,” he said gently. “I’m sorry I failed you.”
“You didn’t.” I tried to reassure him. “You couldn’t have known what was going on here. Matias fucked you over.”
“That he did, little one. That he did.”
Another long silence descended on us, but it didn’t feel uncomfortable. I was still unsure how I felt about having a father again, but I felt no resentment for him in my heart.
“Why are you telling me all of this now?”
He took both of my hands in a tender hold. “I’ve wanted to confess everything from the moment you arrived in Colombia again. But you were already under so much stress with the difficult pregnancy. Then once Justice was born, you were in so much pain—both physically and emotionally. I didn’t want to add more to your shoulders. Since the baby’s heart surgery, I’ve struggled with the decision to tell you or not. I have spent many hours in the chapel, praying for my granddaughter to get well, but also for a sign to show me what I should do.”
“You’re right,” I said, looking down at his much bigger hands holding my smaller ones. “I wouldn’t have been ready to hear any of this during that time. But I…I’m not sure what to do with this new information.” His face tightened with grief, and I quickly continued. “I don’t blame you for anything, Guzman. Over the past several months, you have been with me when I’ve needed a parental figure the most. I’m very thankful for that. I just… I don’t know how to wrap my mind around this, that’s all.”
“I understand,” he said, sadness causing him to sound choked up.
“Give me a few days. Let my brain catch up. And then we can talk again.”
