The Hand of Death

Chapter 3

The little girl’s frail body trembled.

She slowly sat up, drawing her knees toward her chest, her big white eyes slowly filling with tears as she looked up at Maren, “I’m sorry, Mommy.”

Maren sucked in a sharp breath, clenching and unclenching her fist as though struggling to restrain herself.

“Don’t call me that,” she snapped. “I’m not your mother.”

The girl shuddered.

Yet she continued looking at Maren, her small eyes filled with a desperate hope that the woman might change her mind.

Then her gaze shifted.

Her eyes met Roman’s.

The man stood completely still when he saw the resemblance.

The little girl had his eyes. The same shade of grey orbs. The same unmistakable shape of his face.

She was a smaller, more delicate version of him.

This was his daughter.

He, Roman Moretti, really had a daughter.

All these years, he’d dreamed of holding her again. He’d imagined her running into his arms, calling him Daddy, and telling him everything he’d missed while he was away.

He had never imagined finding her on the floor, begging a woman who refused to acknowledge her as a daughter.

Maren slapped her in front of so many people, just what did she do to her behind closed doors?

Maren’s voice shattered the silence at that moment, breaking into his thoughts.

“Take your scum out of here! You spent seven years in prison? Give me a break. I’ve had to put up with this stubborn brat for six years.” Fuming, she pointed at the little girl. “If anything, I should be the one getting compensated!”

Roman’s fist tightened, his knuckles turning white.

He could understand Maren hating him out of the blue.

He could even understand her wanting nothing more to do with him.

But the little girl on the floor had done nothing wrong.

She was his daughter.

And Maren was treating her like something filthy she’d been forced to keep.

In front of an entire room of people.

Did she believe the Elwood family’s name made her untouchable?

As though answering his thoughts, a voice rose from the crowd.

“Maren’s right. This bastard actually came back claiming he went to prison for her? What a joke!”

“Exactly! She and Leland have already given him so much money. What more does he want? A hundred and twenty thousand dollars and a daughter? Most ex-cons would be grateful for that!”

Another guest scoffed.

“I knew trouble would come of it when I heard she’d married some nobody. And when he went to prison for that minister’s death, I was relieved she’d finally gotten rid of him. Thank goodness she married Leland a year later.”

Leland’s expression soured as he looked between Roman and the little girl. “Honey, we’ve done more than enough for him. Let’s stop wasting our time and have security escort him out.”

Roman had heard enough.

He ignored the cheque on the floor, the mocking guests, and the people waiting to see him make a fool of himself.

Instead, he walked toward his daughter.

His hands trembled as he reached for her.

The little girl looked up at him cautiously.

She seemed to understand who he was, even if nobody had properly introduced them.

After a brief hesitation, she placed her small hand in his.

Roman closed his fingers around hers with a tenderness that seemed impossible for a man of his size.

Then, without another word, he led her out of the house.

…

They walked for several minutes before the little girl finally spoke.

“Mommy says you’re a hoodlum. Are you?”

He stopped walking.

They were standing in front of a glass building, its reflective surface offering a clear view of his appearance.

Seven years in prison.

He’d spent his time drawing, reading, and working out.

He was leaner than when he’d first entered the prison, his muscles more defined beneath his faded shirt. An old tattoo peeked out from his sleeve, while his clothes were worn and tattered.

He looked nothing like the respectable husband Maren had once married.

Back then, he could hide what he was once he suited up, but now…

He looked back at his daughter. “Is that such a bad thing?”

Her eyes lit up instantly and she shook her head enthusiastically. “No! It means you can take care of everyone who looks down on Baby!”

Roman blinked.

“Baby?” He glanced around the street in alarm. “Where’s the baby?”

The little girl pointed at herself. “I’m Baby.”

He looked down at her, the corners of his lips twitching, “You’re six years old.”

“Mommy named me Baby. Baby Moretti.” She retorted, her brows perking up seriously.

For the second time that day, Roman found himself utterly speechless.

Baby Moretti.

His daughter didn’t even have a proper name.

He stared at the little girl standing before him, at the faded clothes she wore and the hopeful expression on her face.

The big, burly man who had endured seven years in prison without breaking finally bent down and pulled his daughter into his arms.

Carefully, as though she were something precious that might shatter beneath the slightest pressure.

He buried his face in her hair and gently smoothed it with his fingers.

“I’m sorry, Baby.” His voice cracked. “I’m so sorry.”

Maren Elwood.

That wicked woman.

He had no idea a person could be so cruel.

If she hated him, so be it.

But how could she deny her own daughter even the dignity of a proper name?

His daughter had spent six years living under the same roof as a woman who couldn’t bear to be called her mother.

And Roman hadn’t been there to protect her.

He tightened his embrace.

Never again.

His daughter would never have to beg anyone for affection again.

Just then, the old phone in his pocket began to ring.

Roman reluctantly loosened his hold and pulled it out.

The sunlight reflected off the screen, making it difficult to see who was calling.

He answered and pressed the phone to his ear.

“B-Boss!” A trembling voice burst through the speaker. “I swear, I didn’t mean to do it! Aaron Hale, that son of a bitch, had his foot on my throat. I had no choice but to give in!”

Roman’s expression changed. “Jonas. Use your words.”

Silence followed.

When Jonas finally spoke again, his voice was considerably quieter.

“Aaron Hale is on his way to your family house. He heard it’s your child’s birthday today.”