Chapter 121 CHAPTER 121
Xavier’s POV
“Igantio,” I repeated. The name didn’t sound familiar even in the least way. I watched him cautiously. I couldn’t trust him.
He was quiet. He was watching me too.
“How did you find me?” I asked.
“Sebastian told me about you,” he answered, in a rehearsed way.
I couldn’t remember if Sebastian had mentioned otherwise. I stared ahead at the open sea and remembered that night we had arrived in New York in a boat, smuggled with cartons of fish. I couldn't stand fish for years after that experience. Mum and I had arrived to New York as homeless people, and she scrubbed floors and toilets for years while making me believe that my father would come for us someday.
I wasn't expecting “someday” to be over two decades later.
“What do you want now?” I asked. “You left us a long time ago. You didn’t bother to know if we were safe or if we were surviving. Why are you here now?”
I hoped he was not going to ask me for forgiveness, because I didn’t have it in me to forgive him. Or anyone.
“She had to leave,” he said. “She had to run away and stay low key.”
I frowned.
“She killed someone,” he said. “The only way was for her to leave and change her identity. She was supposed to reach out to me after you both arrived in Milan. But she changed her location and her name.” he paused. “I stopped looking because I believed you both didn't make it.”
I weighed his words in my mind. Mother didn’t look like someone who could kill anyone. I was too young to remember what our life was like before we moved to New York. But I knew she never spoke about it, as if to make me deliberately forget. And when I asked about my father, she’d promise he would show up soon. Until Trent Moon came into the picture.
“We survived all these years. We don't need you now,” I said, still looking away.
He nodded. “You’ve grown up to be a fine man, Xavier. I’m glad she didn't change your name.” He pocketed his hands and I watched him. “Let’s have dinner at least, to say goodbye .”
Dinner sounded nice. It was getting dark and I wasn't really comfortable standing in the quiet bank of a river, unarmed, with a stranger who claimed to be my father.
“There’s a restaurant at the hilltop, a few minutes walk away,” he said, pointing in the distance. I knew the restaurant he was referring to. “We could grab a bite there. And maybe, play a game or two.”
I noticed the streak of gray hair on his beard as the evening light spread across his face. His soft eyes were no match for his hardened face.
“Sure,” I replied.
We arrived at the restaurant, and we were ushered to the VIP section. It showed that he had some money, even though he didn't have the appearance of someone who did. He seemed so out of place with his baseball hat and oversized polo shirt.
He inspected the menu for too long and finally decided to go with the chef’s special. I had no appetite, so I requested the same plate. He didn’t eat much but I found myself devouring the whole plate. I had not eaten much since that trip from Barcelona.
I looked at him as I chewed gently. Perhaps I could make use of him. He’d have friends who would be able to get my accounts back and possibly help me escape from the city if I needed a place to run to.
“Did you remarry?” I asked.
“Never did,” he said.
“So what do you do? You joined another gang?”
He laughed. “I operate alone now. I’ll tell you more about what I do later.”
The rest of the dinner continued in silence. When he pushed his half finished meal away, I had already cleaned my plate. He leaned back against his seat.
“Good choice,” he remarked. Then he reached for his pocket and pulled out his phone. “I still have pictures of you as a child,” he said, his eyes gleaming with happiness. He scrolled through the phone for a while before stretching it at me. “That was taken just a few days before you left.”
I looked at the young boy who looked like a miniature version of me. He was smiling so brightly. I had lost that bright smile. The world was not a rosy place. He swiped to the left and there was another picture with mother holding my hands. She was dressed in a way I had never seen her dressed before.
“Wow,” I said, smiling a little. “A hottie.”
He laughed.
A notification sound pinged on his phone and he withdrew it immediately. But it was not fast enough for me to miss the sender of the message. I had seen the name.
Rosaleen.
Was it the same Rosaleen I knew? What were the chances?
His reaction told me that it was perhaps something I shouldn't have seen.
“Is it Rosaleen Blackwood?” I asked, folding my arms and leaning against the back rest of the chair.
“No,” he replied. “That’s a client.”
He was lying and it was plain. There was only one reason to lie.
“Igantio,” I said. “What work do you do?”
He held my gaze and I knew he was deciding in his mind on whether to tell me he was the hitman that Rosaleen had hired to kill me or not.
“There are things that are better left unknown,” he answered.
“You are a hitman," I said. “You were sent by Rosaleen.” My heart raced and i wondered how he planned to kill me. Was it by poisoning? Why didn’t he just shoot me at the river bank? “You've been bullshitting me all these while.”
He leaned forward and I felt a cold metal press against my body underneath the table. “Sit down.”