At half past midnight I still hadn't fallen asleep, and I remembered the credit card I had not returned to Kael. I plucked it off my nightstand and stared at it in the dark room, the moonlight providing all the light I needed. The embossed words were clear: Gideon Harper. I wasn't sure what I expected to find, but I still wondered if having the credit card number could yield any information. Remembering my earlier quest to find a computer, I slipped from my bed. I considered my shoes but decided against them. I would just end up taking them off somewhere and never find them.

I cracked my door and peaked out. Dark shadows cast by artwork and small hall tables kindled my fears. Feeling so adventurous was not typical for me. The last twenty-four hours had started a change in me. Closing my door softly behind me, I tiptoed to the stairs. I couldn't hear anything but the clock ticking in the hallway. Although in a house this size, someone somewhere could be having a rave in the home, and I probably wouldn't hear them.

I made my descent as quietly as possible, regretting my decision more with every old board that moaned. I went straight down the long hall. Instead of heading to the dining room, I went the opposite direction. There were numerous rooms on either side of me. Countless halls split off into other wings. I tried to keep track of each turn, fearing my lack of direction would affect my outcome tonight.

Ten minutes into my search, I noticed a light on the far side of the corridor, lighting up the hardwood in the hall. Curious, I pressed forward, stopping just outside the door to listen for movement inside. When my patience was rewarded with silence, I decided it was safe to proceed.

I opened the door slightly, grateful for the person who had kept its hinges well oiled. From what I could see, the room was some sort of library. Dark wooden shelves lined the walls. The only side of the room I could see boasted a large floor to ceiling paned window behind a massive carved desk and chair. A laptop was more likely to be in here than anywhere. The light that had drawn me to the room was probably from a fireplace judging by flickering reflections in the window and the gleam of the polished wooden desk. I opened the door the rest of the way, silently giving me a full view of the room.

Directly across from me was the fireplace crackling softly as expected. The faint scent of old books mixed with the smell of burning wood. Biting my lip in regret, I saw that Kael sat in front on an ottoman, head in his hands, elbows propped on his knees. I knew he hadn't heard me open the door, and he didn't look like a man wishing for company. Two sofas and a few chairs were in front of the fireplace, carefully placed to facilitate conversation. I couldn't see much in the room due to the poor lighting, Kael's profile only a dark outline in the firelight.

Unsure how to proceed, I looked behind me, trying to predict the success of a silent escape. The odds that I could back away, close the door, and retreat down the hall undetected were slim. I took a step inside. Kael's head turned toward me, his face not visible with the light behind him.

"Hey." I said, my voice rough from hours without use.

"Harper. Come in." He sat up straighter, dropping his hands to his knees.

I took a few steps inside and stopped. "I should go. I couldn't sleep, and I saw the light... I thought that maybe..." I trailed off, not sure how to explain my search for a laptop at this hour.

"No, it's fine. Come here."

Reluctantly I obeyed, curiosity getting the better of me. After our talk tonight at dinner, I had hoped to get Kael alone, ask more questions. I must be losing my mind. I was alone, walking willingly into a room where a world class criminal sat, capable of killing me at any time. But, if that were his plan I reasoned, he could have done so already. If Garrett and I did have to leave tomorrow, now could be my last chance for questions, for clarification.

I sat down across from him, on the edge of the couch. I noticed the ace bandage I had gotten him yesterday on the floor. He continued to watch me. Now that I could see his face, his hazel eyes looked so tired. He followed my gaze down to the wrap. I sensed that he wanted to talk to me about something, but when he didn't say anything, I broke the silence.

"What's this?" I bent down and picked it up, then dropped it immediately when I saw the blood stain.

He gave me a shadow of a grin, shaking his head he said slowly, "I can't believe you are related to him."

My eyes shot up with that, meeting his. "Gideon?"

"Yes. He's not so squeamish." He looked into the fire, slowly rolling the bandage back into a ball. "I can't get it back on," he said referring to the wrap. "It's probably for the best, its killing my knife wound."

Fortunately, he wasn't watching to see me shudder. "I can put it on you if you want." I hoped he wouldn't take me up on my offer, though. One more sight of that blood, and I might pass out into the fire. Luckily, he shook his head and tossed bandage into the flames. I felt my shoulders relax. Now I needed to smoothly restart the conversation from earlier. On second thought I considered holding my questions for the moment. After all, he had been injured saving me. Other than helping him wrap the injury in the hotel room, I had been rather unsympathetic to his plight.

"Do you have something for the pain?" I asked, wondering immediately if that was a poor question. It was.

"A lot of options, yes." He looked pointedly at me. "But I'd rather not."

"Oh." I felt uncomfortable when he talked about the family business, but I clarified anyway, "For the prisoners?"

"Yeah." I was grateful he didn't elaborate. I had heard of drugs used to ease the cumbersome business by increasing compliance. The thought made me nauseated. I studied his profile as he looked into the fire, oblivious to my scrutiny. He was far from ugly, handsome in fact. He didn't seem innately bad or damaged. How did he end up in this twisted way of life? He turned back to me and caught me staring.

"What is it?" he asked.

"I was just wondering. How did you become a..." I struggled for the proper title, "... rather, how did you get into this business?"

He looked at me, obviously deciding how much to tell. "Does it matter?" he finally asked, resigned. "I just am."

"I know. But I've never known anyone in your line of work." When he didn't say anything, I pushed a little harder. Unfortunately for him, he had made me quite confident he wouldn't hurt me when my questions got the better of my good judgment. "You said, if I stayed - if we stayed, you would answer my questions." I lifted my head, knowing I had the upper hand.

A muscle in his jaw tightened. "Well." He shifted, obviously uncomfortable. "I've always been in the business, really. I've never done anything else."

"Really? Ever since you were a child?" Our voices were still just above a whisper, but I was able to convey my sarcasm effectively.

He didn't laugh; his look almost pitying. He finally stood up, walking the two steps to the fireplace. He shook his head. "Harper," he mumbled. He looked back at me. I held my resolve. I was not backing down.

Coming back to his ottoman, he sat closer to me, our knees almost touching. His voice was back to being almost inaudible. It reminded me of when we had been in the dressing room in that messy shop in Havensport. "I can answer your questions. But I have to be honest with you. These answers aren't what you'll want to hear. And, you have to swear you won't tell Garrett. Can you do that?" I hesitated only a moment before nodding, unable to resist. Without further ado, he proceeded, "I grew up here. Your father raised me."

The shock on my face could not be masked. "What? Why?" I choked.

"My father and yours were close, like brothers. When my dad died, I was still young. The old man took me in, sent me to the best schools, took care of me."

He went on, keeping his voice low, "even as I was growing up, I had an idea of what he did and what I had to do when I grew up. I knew he intended this life for me. He wanted to pass it on just as his father had done." He let out a deep breath he had been holding. "When I turned eighteen, I came home from boarding school." He shrugged. "I've been at his side ever since."

I realized that I had tears streaming down my face. I didn't care. I didn't move. I wanted to hear more. Whatever he would tell me, I had to hear it. All this time, I had assumed my father had sent me away because he was protecting me. That he loved me but had wanted a better life for me. I had accepted this. In some small way, I had held a candle for my faceless parents who had heartrendingly given up their baby soon after her birth. I had loved them and known deep down they loved me. The truth was, my father replaced me. For one reason or another, he hadn't loved me, hadn't wanted me. It wasn't that this life was too hard for a child, obviously. He'd taken Kael on and done just fine. What kind of man lets his own child go and takes on another man's son as his own?

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The truth is slowly unfolding, but this isn't what Harper expected to hear. What do you think of her father's actions? Remember to vote and comment below if you're enjoying the story :)

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