Chapter 3: The Cost of Silence
Claire read Gabriel’s last message twice before answering.
I’ll meet you in public. A café near the clinic, at two. You don’t come near me until I say so. No one else comes with you.
His reply arrived almost immediately.
Understood.
She chose the café because it had broad windows, a crowded lunch rush, and two exits. It was close enough to the clinic that she could walk there afterward, but not close to her apartment. Gabriel would learn nothing about where she lived.
At two minutes past the hour, she took a table where she could see both doors. The photograph from the unknown sender was open on her phone. She had brought the original message, too, though she still wasn’t sure what she expected Gabriel to do with it.
When he entered, he paused just inside. His gaze found her, but he didn’t approach.
Claire lifted one hand.
Only then did he cross the room.
He wore a dark coat, no tie. Without the grocery store’s fluorescent lights and an audience watching, he looked less like a warning and more like a man who had slept badly. He sat across from her, leaving the table between them untouched.
“Thank you for coming,” he said.
“I came for an explanation.”
“You’re right.”
Claire turned her phone so he could see the photograph. “This is the first message. The picture was taken outside the grocery store. The second one said, ‘Tell DeLuca his enemies noticed.’ You said you recognized the wording.”
“I did.”
“Then explain it.”
Gabriel glanced at the screen, but didn’t reach for the phone.
“The phrase has been used before by people who want me to know they’re watching a situation. Or want me to think they are.”
“That tells me almost nothing.”
“I know.”
“Do you know who sent it?”
“No.”
“Do you know who took the picture?”
“No.”
“Do you know what they noticed?”
His jaw tightened.
“No.”
Claire leaned back. She had expected a denial, maybe an attempt to tell her she was safe. She hadn’t expected him to admit how little he knew—but an honest gap was still a gap.
“Then what do you actually recognize?”
“The wording. Not a name, not a signature. I’ve heard versions of it during disputes connected to my business.”
“What kind of disputes?”
“People trying to gain leverage. Sometimes they make a threat. Sometimes they want me to believe there’s a threat. Sometimes they’re telling the truth.”
“Which is this?”
“I can’t tell from a text and a photograph.”
“So you don’t know whether someone is after you, or me, or neither of us.”
“I don’t know.”
Claire looked out the window. A bus dragged through the wet street, its windows reflecting the gray sky.
“You have enemies,” she said.
“Yes.”
“Because of what you do.”
Gabriel was quiet for a moment.
“Yes.”
The answer settled between them. He didn’t defend himself or try to make the danger sound glamorous. That didn’t make it easier to hear.
“And now I’m part of whatever they’re watching.”
“I don’t know that you are.”
“But you think it’s possible.”
“Yes.”
“Don’t soften it for me.”
“I’m not.”
She looked at him again. “You can’t promise I’m safe.”
“No.”
“Can’t promise the person who sent those messages is connected to your enemies.”
“No.”
“Can’t promise you’ll find out who it is.”
“Not honestly.”
The café noise seemed to swell around the silence. Cups clinked. Someone laughed near the counter. Claire rested her hands on the table to keep them from fidgeting.
“What would you do if I hadn’t called you?”
“I don’t know.”
“You’d try to find me.”
“I might have wanted to.”
“That isn’t an answer.”
“No,” he said. “It isn’t.”
“You told me you wouldn’t come to my home or send anyone to follow me.”
“And I haven’t.”
“I know. I’m deciding whether I can believe that’s because you respect what I said—or because you haven’t found a reason to ignore it.”
Gabriel’s face changed, just slightly. The words had hit their mark.
“You’re right to ask,” he said.
“I don’t need you to agree with me. I need you to understand that your fear doesn’t give you permission.”
“I understand.”
“Do you?”
“I’m trying to.”
It wasn’t a promise that he’d never get it wrong. It wasn’t the clean reassurance she wanted, either. But he wasn’t reaching across the table to take her phone or tell her what she had to do.
Claire turned the screen back toward herself.
“What are you going to do with the messages?”
“Nothing without your permission. If you want, Eli can look at the screenshots you already sent me. He won’t contact anyone or try to locate you unless you ask.”
“You told him about me?”
“I told him only that you’d received a photograph and a message. He doesn’t know your address.”
“Does he know I’m pregnant?”
Gabriel hesitated.
“Yes. I told him the baby is mine.”
Claire’s throat tightened. “That wasn’t your information to share.”
“I’m sorry.”
“Don’t say it because you think it’s what I want to hear.”
“I’m saying it because I should have asked first.”
She held his gaze, searching for the familiar confidence that could turn any apology into another kind of command. For the moment, she didn’t see it.
“I can’t take it back,” he added.
“No. You can’t.”
The truth of that hurt more than she wanted to admit. She had spent months making decisions about the baby without him. That had been her choice, but it had also been lonely. Now he was here, with his dangerous name and his unanswered questions, and she couldn’t simply pretend he didn’t matter.
Gabriel lowered his voice.
“I want to help with your appointment. A driver could meet you here and take you to the clinic. No one needs to know where you live.”
“I already have a way to get there.”
“Then you don’t need a driver.”
Claire watched him. “You’re not going to argue?”
“No.”
“Not even tell me it’s for the baby?”
“No.”
That answer disarmed her more than an argument would have. She glanced at the time on her phone. The appointment wasn’t far off, and she had no desire to hurry through damp streets if she didn’t have to.
“If I accept a ride,” she said, “I choose who drives. I can cancel it or send the driver away. He doesn’t get my home address, and no one follows me after I reach the clinic.”
“All right.”
“I want Eli. I’ll call him myself. He meets me here, and he takes me to the clinic. Afterward, I decide what happens next.”
Gabriel nodded. “That’s fair.”
“This isn’t me agreeing to security.”
“I understand.”
“It isn’t permission to check up on me.”
“I understand.”
“And it doesn’t buy you a say in anything.”
His expression tightened, but he answered carefully.
“I know.”
Claire picked up Eli’s number, still written on the back of Gabriel’s card. She called and made the request herself. Eli confirmed he could meet her outside the café. He asked whether she wanted him to arrange anything else.
“No,” Claire said. “Just the ride.”
“Understood,” Eli replied.
She ended the call.
Gabriel hadn’t asked what time her appointment was or where the clinic was. She appreciated that. She was not ready to mistake one considerate choice for proof that he had changed.
“I’m not going to tell you this is solved,” he said.
“Good.”
“Whatever the message means, someone sent it. That’s all we know.”
“And the photo?”
“That someone took a photograph of us from across the street. I don’t know who.”
“You still haven’t told me what you’re doing.”
“I’m not asking Eli to investigate. I’m not contacting anyone about it unless you ask me to.”
“Even if you think you’re protecting me?”
“Especially then.”
Claire studied his face. “You’re learning.”
“I’m trying.”
A faint vibration sounded from the table. Her phone lit up with a news alert. For a moment she only saw the small red banner and the word TRENDING.
May you like
Then she read the rest.
Grocery-store video of Gabriel DeLuca’s pregnant lover goes viral—Claire Hayes identified.
