PART 2 — The Woman He Couldn’t Afford to Lose
PART 2 — The Woman He Couldn’t Afford to Lose
For the first few weeks, Hazel told herself she was only staying for Finn.
That was the story she repeated whenever Callaway looked at her for a second too long.
Whenever Finn ran into the kitchen in the morning and called her name before he called for his father.
Whenever she found herself laughing at the dinner table instead of checking the clock and thinking about the bus home.
She was there because a seven-year-old boy had decided she was safe.
Nothing more.
At least, that was what Hazel told herself.
But then winter arrived.
And with it came the first real snow.
One Thursday evening, Hazel stood by the kitchen window watching flakes drift over the dark garden.
Finn was asleep upstairs.
Callaway was in his study.
For once, the house was completely silent.
Hazel wrapped both hands around a mug of tea.
She had been thinking about leaving.
Not because she wanted to.
Because she was beginning to realize that staying was dangerous in ways she hadn’t anticipated.
Callaway wasn’t just wealthy.
He wasn’t merely powerful.
He was a man whose enemies knew where his son slept.
And Hazel had become part of that world.
She heard footsteps behind her.
Callaway.
“You’ve been quiet tonight.”
“I’m thinking.”
“That’s usually dangerous.”
She smiled faintly.
“Only when you’re thinking about things you shouldn’t.”
He leaned against the counter.
“What are you thinking about?”
Hazel hesitated.
“Going home.”
His expression changed.
Only slightly.
But she saw it.
“You are home.”
“No.”
She turned toward him.
“This is Finn’s home. It’s your home. I’m just the woman who makes pancakes.”
“You haven’t been just that for a long time.”
The words hung between them.
Hazel looked away.
“Callaway…”
“I know.”
“You don’t know what I was going to say.”
“I know enough.”
He stepped closer.
“I’m not good at this, Hazel.”
“At what?”
“Having something to lose.”
Her breath caught.
For a man like Callaway Voss, the confession sounded almost impossible.
He had survived enemies, betrayal, violence and years of living by rules Hazel didn’t understand.
But standing in front of her, he looked less like a feared mafia boss and more like a tired father who had finally realized that the woman beside him mattered.
“Finn loves you,” he said.
“I love him too.”
“I wasn’t talking about Finn.”
Hazel’s heart began pounding.
Before she could answer, a noise came from upstairs.
A door slammed.
Then Finn screamed.
“Dad!”
Callaway moved instantly.
Hazel followed.
They reached Finn’s bedroom together.
The boy was sitting upright in bed, shaking.
“There’s someone outside.”
Callaway’s face went cold.
“What did you see?”
Finn pointed toward the window.
“A man.”
Callaway pulled the curtains aside.
Nothing.
Only snow.
But Hazel noticed something beneath the window.
A small black object.
Callaway saw it too.
His entire expression changed.
He picked it up carefully.
It was a photograph.
Finn.
Taken from outside the house.
On the back, written in black ink, were six words.
YOU SAVED HIM. NOW SAVE YOURSELF.
Hazel felt the blood leave her face.
Callaway looked at her.
And for the first time since she’d met him, she saw genuine fear in his eyes.
Not fear for himself.
Fear for her.
The next morning, Hazel was moved to another room.
Security doubled.
The gates remained closed.
Finn wasn’t allowed outside.
And Callaway canceled every meeting that wasn’t absolutely necessary.
But Hazel noticed something strange.
He didn’t tell her to leave.
Instead, he stayed near her.
At breakfast.
In the kitchen.
In the hallway.
Even when he was on the phone, his eyes kept finding her.
Finally, Hazel confronted him.
“You need to tell me what’s happening.”
Callaway lowered the phone.
“I will.”
“No.”
She folded her arms.
“Not later. Now.”
He stared at her for several seconds.
Then he sighed.
“The person who poisoned Finn wasn’t working alone.”
Hazel’s stomach tightened.
“Who else?”
“Someone inside my organization.”
“Who?”
“We don’t know yet.”
“Then why are you looking at me like that?”
“Because whoever is behind this knows you.”
She went still.
“They’ve been watching you.”
“Since when?”
“Since the night you found Finn.”
Hazel’s voice dropped.
“So that night wasn’t an accident.”
“No.”
Callaway walked toward the window.
“They wanted Finn dead.”
He turned.
“But when you called me, their plan changed.”
“How?”
“They realized someone had found him before the poison became fatal.”
Hazel swallowed.
“And now?”
“Now they think you’re the reason their plan failed.”
She laughed once, but there was no humor in it.
“So I’m a target.”
“Yes.”
“Wonderful.”
Callaway stepped closer.
“I can send you somewhere safe.”
Hazel stared at him.
“Do you actually think I’d be safe anywhere?”
He didn’t answer.
Because they both knew the truth.
If the people after Finn had already found her, running wouldn’t make her disappear.
Hazel looked toward the staircase.
“Finn needs me.”
“I know.”
“And you?”
Callaway’s jaw tightened.
“I need you alive.”
The room became painfully quiet.
Hazel looked at him.
“That’s not what I asked.”
Callaway finally met her eyes.
“No.”
He exhaled.
“It’s not.”
Then he said the words he’d spent weeks avoiding.
“I need you.”
That afternoon, Callaway gathered his closest men.
Hazel wasn’t supposed to hear the meeting.
But she wasn’t supposed to hear many things.
And somehow, she always did.
She stood in the kitchen preparing soup when voices rose from the study.
One name caught her attention.
Aldridge.
Hazel froze.
Quentyn Aldridge.
The man who had stood in the kitchen weeks earlier.
The man who had disappeared.
She moved closer.
Then she heard another name.
Morrow.
Her blood ran cold.
Her last name.
Hazel slowly stepped toward the study door.
The voices became clearer.
“…the records confirm it.”
“You’re certain?”
“Absolutely.”
“The waitress?”
“Her father.”
Hazel stopped breathing.
Her father.
The man she hadn’t seen since she was eight.
The man her grandmother had refused to discuss.
The man Hazel had always believed had simply abandoned them.
Callaway’s voice came next.
“What does he have to do with this?”
“Everything.”
Hazel’s hand went to her mouth.
She backed away from the door.
Then someone behind her spoke.
“You weren’t supposed to hear that.”
Hazel turned.
Callaway stood there.
His face was pale.
For several seconds, neither spoke.
Then Hazel whispered:
“My father.”
Callaway nodded.
“I was going to tell you.”
“When?”
“When I knew the truth.”
“What truth?”
He looked at her with something close to regret.
“Your father wasn’t a nobody, Hazel.”
She stared at him.
“Who was he?”
Callaway hesitated.
Then he said:
“One of the most dangerous men I’ve ever known.”
Hazel sat down.
Her entire life seemed to rearrange itself inside her head.
Her grandmother’s warnings.
The unexplained money that occasionally appeared when Hazel was young.
The strange men who used to come to their house.
The reason her grandmother never allowed Hazel to open the basement door.
All of it suddenly had a shape.
“Is he alive?”
Callaway didn’t answer immediately.
That was answer enough.
“Yes.”
Hazel closed her eyes.
“Where?”
“Montreal.”
Her eyes opened.
“You knew?”
“I found out yesterday.”
“And you didn’t tell me?”
“I wanted to protect you.”
She stood abruptly.
“Don’t.”
“Hazel—”
“No.”
She stepped back.
“You don’t get to decide what I deserve to know.”
Callaway took the anger without defending himself.
She continued.
“You brought me into this house. You put guards around me. You told me I was safe. And all this time, you knew my own father might be connected to the people trying to kill your son?”
“I didn’t know if he was.”
“But you suspected.”
“Yes.”
Hazel’s eyes filled with tears.
“Then you should have trusted me.”
Callaway’s expression broke.
“I was afraid.”
The words stopped her.
“Afraid of what?”
“That if I told you, you’d leave.”
Hazel stared at him.
“You were afraid I’d leave?”
“Yes.”
He stepped toward her.
“And I realized somewhere along the way that losing you would hurt more than losing anything I’ve ever owned.”
Hazel’s tears finally fell.
She looked away.
For several seconds, there was only silence.
Then she whispered:
“Find my father.”
Callaway nodded.
“I will.”
“No.”
She looked directly at him.
“We’ll find him.”
Three hours later, the answer arrived.
A photograph.
An address.
And one sentence.
Your father wants to meet his daughter.
Hazel stared at the photograph.
The man in it was older than she remembered.
But there was no mistaking the eyes.
Her eyes.
Callaway stood beside her.
“We don’t have to go.”
Hazel folded the photograph.
“Yes, we do.”
“It’s a trap.”
“Probably.”
“Hazel.”
She looked at him.
“But I’m done being the person everyone protects.”
Callaway stared at her.
Then, unexpectedly, he smiled.
A small smile.
Proud.
“That’s the woman I thought you were.”
Hazel raised an eyebrow.
“You thought I was brave?”
“No.”
He took her hand.
“I thought you were stubborn.”
She laughed through her tears.
“That’s more accurate.”
Callaway squeezed her hand.
“And that’s exactly why I fell in love with you.”
Hazel went completely still.
He seemed almost surprised that he’d said it aloud.
Then he didn’t take it back.
“I love you, Hazel.”
For a moment, she could hear nothing.
Not the guards outside.
Not the snow against the windows.
Not even her own heartbeat.
Then she stepped closer.
“You know,” she whispered, “for a mafia boss, you’re terrible at dramatic timing.”
He smiled.
“I’ve been told.”
She kissed him.
And for the first time in years, Callaway Voss forgot about enemies, money, power and revenge.
Because for one brief moment, he had everything he had ever wanted.
A family.
But neither of them knew what waited at the address.
Because when Hazel arrived the next morning with Callaway beside her, the door opened before they knocked.
An elderly man stood inside.
He looked at Hazel.
Then at Callaway.
And his face changed.
“You’re late,” he said.
Hazel frowned.
“Do I know you?”
The old man looked past her toward Callaway.
“No.”
His voice trembled.
“But he does.”
Callaway’s hand tightened around Hazel’s.
“What are you talking about?”
The man stepped aside.
On the wall behind him was a photograph.
A photograph of Callaway as a teenager.
Standing beside another boy.
A boy Hazel had never seen.
The old man whispered:
“Your father didn’t disappear, Hazel.”
He pointed at the photograph.
“He was murdered.”
Hazel’s breath caught.
“And the boy standing beside him?”
The old man’s eyes filled with fear.
“That was Callaway’s older brother.”
Callaway went completely still.
Because he had always believed his brother died in an accident.
The old man looked at both of them.
“Someone lied to you for twenty years.”
Then the lights in the house went out.
A gunshot exploded outside.
And Hazel heard Callaway whisper:
“Get down.”
To be continued…
