CHAPTER 5: MORE SECRETS

The news of Reagan Royce’s return had ignited the city like wildfire.

But what fascinated the public even more than his return was his marriage.

A wife no one knew about. She had become a subject of interest in the entire country's media.

A mystery bride.

The woman who stole the most unattainable bachelor in the country.

Who is Rivera Royce?

Rivera watched the television from the sitting room as the anchor's voice buzzed with excitement.

“Sources say Mrs. Royce arrived just yesterday. Insiders claim she is young, stunning and completely unknown to society. Everyone is eager to finally meet the woman who bears the Royce name.”

Rivera muted the screen. Her stomach twisted.

She hadn’t asked for this attention. She hadn’t even wanted the marriage.

Yet somehow, overnight, she had become an object of curiosity, envy and speculation.

Suddenly she remembered something crucial. Her father, Robert Banks had been missing. She hadn’t seen or heard from him since her marriage.

When she was in Italy, her intel told her that he hadn’t been at their old home either. He helped her search for him for two years with no success.

Robert had always been fragile, always in need of care. After his business collapsed, he turned to drinking and gambling.

Rivera had been responsible for his care and she wanted to ask Reagan for help finding him.

He was buried deep in work in his study when she walked in that he barely noticed her presence, or so she thought.

"I'm afraid you'd stare a hole in my head if you keep going at that," he spoke without looking up. She blushed in embarrassment.

"And it would appear you have another pair of eyes on your forehead," she retorted.

He finally looked up. "Feisty huh? Has anyone told you, you have a way of amusing people."

Rivera wasn't sure if that was compliment or sarcasm since he didn't look amused.

“I need to ask you for something,” she said instead.

“Yes? What is it?”

“I want permission to go look for my father. He's gone MIA.”

The effect was immediate. Reagan’s expression changed so fast it startled her. The calm vanished, replaced by something dark and violent. 

“What did you just say?”

“My father,” Rivera repeated, confused by the sudden tension. “I haven’t heard from him in years. He’s not well and...”

“Stop. I don’t want to hear his name again. Not in this house, not anywhere.”

“What? Why? He’s my father. I’m only asking to...”

“You will not look for him. You will not ask about him. You will not mention him. Did I make myself clear?" He slammed his fist on the table. The sound made her flinch. 

She stared at him, stunned. “Reagan, I don’t understand.”

“You don’t need to understand. You only need to obey.”

Her chest tightened in rage and regret. “This isn’t about money or reputation. He needs help. This is my father we're talking about, not some beggar on the streets. I thought...” Her voice faltered. “I thought you wouldn’t refuse something like this.”

“He is not your concern anymore." His voice was so emotionless that it enraged her more.

“That doesn’t make any sense. He’s been missing since I married you. Do you know where he is?”

“I said enough!” he roared and Rivera stumbled back instinctively. “You will forget he exists. If you value your peace and your life, you will never bring him up again.”

“Why are you acting like this? What did he do to you?”

Reagan turned away abruptly, his fists clenched. “Leave."

“Reagan...”

“Get out!” he thundered.

Rivera hesitated, then slowly stepped backward. This side of him terrified her.

Just as she reached the door, she turned one last time. “You can’t erase him from my life no matter how powerful you think you are.”

Reagan didn’t respond.

                                   ___

Back in her room, Rivera lay on her bed thinking. None of this made sense.

Why would the mention of her father enrage him like that?

She wouldn't just sit around and do nothing. She would look for answers.

That night, she waited until the estate had gone silent. Reagan was out so the servers retired early.

She slipped out of bed and made her way toward the study.

When she reached the study door, she turned the handle. It opened. He didn't lock it.

That was lucky, she thought.

She shut the door behind her and moved quickly. She checked the desk first, nothing.

Then the drawers. Inside the lower drawer was an old, creased sheet of paper. It wasn’t a document or a contract.

It was a hand-drawn link chart. Names, lines and locations. At the top, written in bold strokes: ROBERT BANKS. Her father.

Below it, connected by a long dotted line, was another name: JORDAN. She had never heard it before.

The dotted line extended further, until it ended at a single location written in red ink: PALERMO in Italy.

Her hands trembled as she pulled out her phone and took a photo of the chart.

Italy again. None of this was a coincidence.

Reagan's imprisonment, Luke living with her and her father's disappearance, they were all connected to Italy and Jordan was the key to finding out why.

To de-mystify her husband's secret and her father's disappearance, she must find this Jordan and she knew exactly who to ask.

Luke.