Romances de Noura writes

The FBI conference room was stark. White walls. Metal table. Recording equipment blinking red.Robert sat across from Agent Rodriguez and two other agents I didn't recognize. I was there as witness and victim. Marcus as my support. Rachel Cohen representing Robert legally. Pro bono, because even cowards deserve lawyers.Rodriguez slid a non-disclosure agreement across the table. "Everything said in this room is classified until we say otherwise. Understood?"Robert signed. Then began to talk."Start from the beginning. When did you first encounter The Covenant?""1999. I was working for Ashford Industries. Chief Financial Officer. I noticed irregularities. Money disappearing. Offshore transfers. I reported it to Victor Ashford.""What did Victor say?""He said he'd handle it. Instead, he introduced me to Julian Cross. Said Cross was a consultant who could help streamline operations. That was my first Covenant meeting."Robert described it. Private club. Wealthy men. Exclusive. Surface

Dr. Morgan's office felt smaller with three people in it. Me on the couch where I'd sat for months unpacking trauma. Marcus in the chair beside me, supportive presence. And Robert Ashford across from us, the stranger who was supposed to be my father, looking like he'd rather be anywhere else.Dr. Morgan sat in her usual spot, clipboard in lap, kind eyes assessing."Thank you all for coming," she began. "This won't be easy. But healing rarely is."She set down the clipboard. "Before we begin, let's establish some ground rules. This is a safe space. Everything said here stays here unless it poses immediate danger to someone."We all nodded."Aria, you've asked your father to attend therapy. What do you hope to accomplish?""I want answers. Real answers. Not excuses. Not justification. Just truth.""Robert, are you willing to provide that?"He shifted. Nervous. "Yes. I'll answer anything.""Good. Marcus, you're here as support for Aria. But if you have questions or feelings, you're welco

Robert stared at my belly for a long time. "Come home," I'd said. As if it were simple. As if twenty-four years of abandonment could be erased with an invitation. Finally, he spoke. "There are things you need to know first. Things that will make you hate me more than you already do." I was six months pregnant. Exhausted. My back ached. My feet hurt. And I was done with secrets. "Then tell me. All of it. No more lies." Robert looked around the café. Too public. Too exposed. "Not here. Somewhere private." We went back to our hotel. Small room. Three chairs. Robert sat facing us. "When I faked my death, I didn't just run. I made a deal." My stomach sank. "With who?" "With someone inside The Covenant. Someone who wanted Cross gone. I agreed to disappear, testify if ever needed, in exchange for protection." "Who?" Marcus asked. Robert took a breath. "Martin Schaffer." I froze. "The attorney who defended Cross?" "Back then, Schaffer was a prosecutor. Investigating The Covenant

Vienna was beautiful in winter. Snow dusting the rooftops of baroque buildings. Christmas markets filling the air with cinnamon and roasted chestnuts.I couldn't enjoy any of it.We'd been here two days. Two days of following cold leads and dead ends. Two days of showing Robert Ashford's photo to hotel staff who shook their heads. Two days of my daughter kicking impatiently inside me, as if to say: can we go home now?I was beginning to think this was pointless.Then Marcus got a call from the private investigator we'd hired locally.Heinrich Mueller. Austrian. Former police detective. Specialized in finding people who didn't want to be found.Marcus answered. Listened. Face changing."Where?" he asked. Then, "We'll be there in twenty minutes."He hung up. Looked at me."He found him."My heart stopped. "Where?""Small pension in Leopoldstadt. Second district. Your father checked in under a different name but the hotel clerk recognized the photo. Confirmed he's there now."The room sp

"My father is alive?"The words came out strangled. FBI Agent Rodriguez set down a file folder. The kind that holds life-changing information in manila and paperclips."We don't know for certain. But we've found evidence suggesting Robert Ashford didn't die in that car accident twenty-four years ago."I was six months pregnant. My father had been dead my entire conscious life. And now, maybe, he wasn't.I pressed my hand to my belly. My daughter kicked. Rodriguez opened the file. Photographs spilled out. A car. Twisted metal. Burned wreckage at the bottom of a ravine."The accident happened when you were three. Your father's car went off a bridge in upstate New York. The body was burned beyond recognition. Identified by dental records.""I remember my mother telling me. He was gone. Just gone.""Except." Rodriguez pulled out another document. "New forensic analysis prompted by our Covenant investigation shows the dental records don't match Robert Ashford's military records. The body

Six months later.September. Leaves turning gold and red outside the loft windows. Crisp air. Autumn settling in.I stood in what would be the nursery. Paintbrush in hand. Belly round and obvious at six months pregnant.Marcus painted the far wall. Soft yellow. Neutral. We didn't know if the baby was a boy or girl. Didn't want to know."Hand me that roller?" he asked.I passed it. Carefully. Everything carefully now. Dr. Kim's orders. No heavy lifting. No stress. No over working.My shoulder had healed completely. Full range of motion. Physical therapy successful. The scar remained but faded. Barely noticeable.The pregnancy progressed normally. Healthy. No complications. December tenth still the due date."This color okay?" Marcus asked. "Not too bright?""It's perfect."He smiled. Continued painting. We'd been working on the nursery for weeks. Slow progress. Enjoying it. No rush.Life had settled into something resembling peace. Quiet. Domestic. Normal.The foundation thrived under