Chapter 3 - The Man Xavier Thought Was Dead Came for the Twins—But Phoebe Refused to Let the Mafia Family Decide Her Children's FateXavier called Phoebe from the ambulance.
“Take the twins and leave.”
Silence.
“What happened?”
“Phoebe.”
“What happened?”
“Someone shot Sebastian.”
“Is he alive?”
“Barely.”
“Who?”
“Vincent.”
Another silence.
“Your brother is dead.”
“No.”
“How do you know?”
“Sebastian told me.”
“Xavier, you're not making sense.”
“The music box.”
Phoebe stopped breathing.
“What about it?”
“Do you still have it?”
“Yes.”
“Don't open it.”
“Why?”
“Because my father hid something inside.”
Silence.
Then Phoebe said:
“I already opened it.”
Xavier closed his eyes.
“When?”
“Last year.”
“What did you find?”
“A key.”
His pulse changed.
“What kind?”
“Small. Brass. Number 417 stamped into it.”
“Where is it?”
“Safe.”
“Good.”
“Xavier.”
“Yes?”
“Someone broke into my apartment yesterday.”
He went cold.
“What?”
“Nothing was taken.”
“Why didn't you tell me?”
“Because I thought it was random.”
“Where are you?”
She hesitated.
Then gave him the address.
Not because he demanded it.
Because the danger was now shared.
Xavier arrived with Marco.
He stopped outside.
Called.
“I'm downstairs.”
Phoebe looked through the window.
“I see the SUVs.”
“Three.”
“I count five.”
Xavier looked at Marco.
Marco shrugged.
“Backup.”
Phoebe sighed.
“Send three away.”
“Phoebe.”
“Three.”
Xavier sent three away.
Marco stared at him.
“You're changing.”
“Don't discuss it.”
Inside, Xavier met the world his children knew.
A modest two-bedroom apartment.
Toys.
Baby bottles.
Laundry.
A small bookshelf.
Photographs.
Luca asleep in a crib.
Elara chewing a stuffed elephant.
Xavier stood in the doorway.
He had never seen anything more beautiful.
Phoebe handed him Elara.
This time he didn't ask.
The trust in that gesture nearly destroyed him.
“Where's the key?”
Phoebe retrieved it.
Marco examined the number.
“Could be a bank box.”
Xavier knew one bank his father had used privately.
They checked.
Box 417 existed.
Registered to Luca Drion.
Access authorized to Xavier.
And, strangely, Phoebe.
“How?” she asked.
Xavier shook his head.
The authorization had been added eleven years earlier.
Long before Xavier met her.
Except it hadn't been Phoebe's name originally.
It was registered to:
PHOEBE ANNE MERCER.
Phoebe stared.
“My maiden name.”
“Yes.”
“How did your father know me?”
Xavier looked at her.
“How old were you when he died?”
“Seventeen.”
“Where did you live?”
“Baltimore.”
“Your father?”
Phoebe became guarded.
“Why?”
“What was his name?”
“Thomas Mercer.”
Marco went still.
Xavier noticed.
“What?”
Marco looked at Phoebe.
“Thomas Mercer worked for Luca Drion.”
Phoebe laughed.
“No.”
“He did.”
“My father sold insurance.”
“Publicly.”
Phoebe stared.
Her father had died when she was nineteen.
Car accident.
At least, that's what she'd believed.
Box 417 contained three encrypted drives.
Photographs.
Ledgers.
A recorded statement from Luca Drion.
And a letter addressed jointly to Xavier Drion and Phoebe Mercer.
Xavier's hands trembled as he opened it.
Luca had discovered Sebastian, Vincent, and Thomas Mercer were operating a trafficking and extortion network through Drion shipping companies.
Thomas eventually regretted participating.
He approached Luca.
Together, they gathered evidence.
Luca planned to dismantle the criminal organization and protect both families.
Before he could, Sebastian discovered the plan.
Luca was killed.
Thomas escaped with part of the evidence.
Years later, Thomas died too.
Before his death, he arranged for his daughter Phoebe to receive the music box.
The key connected the two halves of Luca's evidence.
Xavier looked at Phoebe.
“Our fathers were trying to end this.”
She stared at the documents.
“And they died.”
“Yes.”
“Then Sebastian separated us because he thought I would eventually find this.”
“Yes.”
Phoebe looked toward the nursery.
“And Vincent?”
“He wants it destroyed.”
The apartment lights went out.
Marco drew his weapon.
Xavier handed Elara to Phoebe.
“Bedroom.”
“No.”
“Phoebe.”
“No.”
Glass shattered.
Marco fired.
A man entered through the kitchen.
Xavier tackled him.
Another came through the hall.
Phoebe grabbed Luca from his crib.
Elara screamed.
“Fire escape!” Marco shouted.
Phoebe ran.
Xavier followed.
They descended three floors.
A black SUV waited below.
Not theirs.
Door opened.
Vincent Drion stepped out.
Alive.
Older.
Scarred.
Smiling.
“Little brother.”
Xavier stopped.
Phoebe held both children.
Vincent looked at them.
“My niece and nephew.”
“Don't look at them.”
Vincent laughed.
“Still dramatic.”
Police sirens approached.
Vincent's smile disappeared.
Phoebe had triggered the building alarm before leaving.
Her choice.
Her plan.
Vincent retreated.
“This isn't over.”
Phoebe shouted:
“Yes, it is.”
Vincent looked at her.
She stared back.
“I copied everything in that box before we left the bank.”
Xavier turned.
“You what?”
“Three encrypted uploads.”
Vincent's face changed.
“One to my attorney. One to a federal prosecutor.”
“And the third?” Xavier asked.
Phoebe looked at him.
“Myself.”
Vincent realized killing them would no longer destroy the evidence.
For the first time, he looked afraid.
He fled.
But not far.
Federal authorities arrested him forty-eight hours later.
The evidence exposed decades of crimes.
Sebastian survived the shooting.
Then confessed.
Xavier cooperated.
Fully.
It cost him control of parts of the empire.
He surrendered businesses.
Accounts.
Warehouses.
Men were arrested.
Deals collapsed.
For months, newspapers printed the Drion name.
Xavier didn't care.
He moved into a hotel.
Phoebe stayed in her apartment.
And every Tuesday and Saturday, Xavier came to see Luca and Elara.
At first for two hours.
Then four.
Then entire afternoons.
He changed diapers badly.
Learned bottles.
Learned Elara hated socks.
Learned Luca would fall asleep on his chest if Xavier hummed.
Phoebe watched.
Not forgiving.
Observing.
One Saturday, Luca developed a fever.
Xavier stayed all night.
At 3:00 a.m., Phoebe found him sitting beside the crib.
“You can sleep.”
“No.”
“He has a cold.”
“I know.”
“You've called the pediatrician twice.”
“I know.”
“You're terrifying the pediatrician.”
“Good.”
Phoebe smiled.
Xavier looked at her.
“I haven't seen you smile at me in a long time.”
Her smile disappeared.
“Don't make it something.”
“Okay.”
He looked back at Luca.
Phoebe sat beside him.
“Why didn't you fight the federal seizures?”
“Because the money was dirty.”
“That never bothered your family before.”
“It bothers me now.”
“Why?”
Xavier looked at his son.
“I don't want him inheriting a throne made of things he'll spend his life apologizing for.”
Phoebe became quiet.
“And Elara?”
“She can inherit my legitimate company.”
Phoebe raised an eyebrow.
“Luca gets nothing?”
“Luca gets therapy.”
She laughed.
Xavier smiled.
Then she became serious.
“I don't know if I can love you again.”
His smile faded.
“I know.”
“I don't know if I want to.”
“I know.”
“But I want them to know you.”
He looked at her.
“That's enough.”
And he meant it.
That was why, months later, when Phoebe needed someone to watch the twins during a meeting with a commercial realtor, she called Xavier.
“What meeting?”
“None of your business.”
“Fair.”
He watched the children.
Phoebe returned carrying blueprints.
Xavier tried not to look.
Failed.
“What's that?”
She sighed.
“My bookstore.”
He froze.
“You're doing it?”
“Yes.”
Coffee shop.
Children's reading area.
Used books upstairs.
Phoebe had found an old brick storefront.
Xavier smiled.
“What?”
“Nothing.”
“Xavier.”
“I'm proud of you.”
Her expression softened.
Then he made the mistake.
“I can fund—”
“No.”
“Right.”
“Absolutely not.”
“Understood.”
He raised both hands.
Phoebe laughed.
Six months later, Second Chapter Books & Coffee opened.
Xavier attended.
He bought one book.
Paid full price.
Left a ridiculous tip.
Phoebe returned most of it.
Life became strangely normal.
Until the night Xavier arrived for dinner and found a man sitting beside Phoebe.
Tall.
Handsome.
Doctor.
Dr. Voss.
Xavier stopped in the doorway.
Phoebe looked up.
“Oh. Xavier.”
Dr. Voss smiled.
“Good to see you.”
Xavier stared.
“Doctor.”
Phoebe folded her arms.
“Behave.”
“I am behaving.”
“You look like you're planning a murder.”
“That's just my face.”
Dr. Voss laughed.
Phoebe didn't.
Later, after Voss left, Xavier asked:
“Are you dating him?”
Phoebe stared.
“You don't get to ask.”
“You're right.”
That answer surprised her.
He picked up his coat.
At the door, Phoebe said:
“No.”
He turned.
“No what?”
“I'm not dating him.”
Xavier tried not to look relieved.
Failed.
Phoebe smiled.
“Good night, Xavier.”
“Good night.”
He reached the hallway.
Then Phoebe called his name.
He turned again.
She stood in the doorway.
“I haven't forgiven you.”
“I know.”
“But I don't hate who you're becoming.”
Xavier stared at her.
For the first time in almost two years, hope entered the room.
He didn't grab it.
May you like
He simply nodded.
And went home.
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