Page 111 of Dark Billionaire Stalker
"She found out. I don't know exactly how—perhaps she discovered evidence, perhaps one of his victims reached out to her. What I do know is that by the time she was pregnant with you, she knew exactly what kind of monster she was carrying a child for."
"So she left him."
"She tried. But Dwayne didn't accept rejection. He stalked her, threatened her, made it clear that she and the baby belonged to him and always would." Zach pauses. "So your mother ran. While she was still pregnant with you, she changed her name, covered her tracks, and disappeared. She escaped before you were born. Before Dwayne could get his hands on either of you."
I think about my childhood. The constant moving, the paranoia, the packed bag in the back of the closet. My mother looking over her shoulder at shadows, jumping at unexpected sounds, never quite relaxing, no matter how safe we seemed.
"She spent my whole life running from him."
"Yes. But here's the part she never knew." Zach leans forward, his voice dropping. "When your mother was pregnant with you, Dwayne Thomas was killed."
The words don't make sense. I hear them, but they don't compute.
"Killed?"
"Murdered." Zach reaches into his jacket and withdraws a manila envelope, setting it on the table between us. "The official story was an accident—a fall, a blow to the head, nothing suspicious. But there was no accident. One of Dwayne's victims decided to stop being prey."
"One of his victims?"
"A sixteen-year-old student at St. Augustine's. A boy who had been suffering under Dwayne's torments for two years and finally found the courage—or the rage—to fight back."
My hands are shaking. I know what he's going to say. I know, even before he says it, whose name is in that envelope.
"Who?"
Zach slides the envelope toward me. "Gabriel Ambrose."
The world goes silent.
I hear the words, but they don't penetrate. They hover in the air between us, meaningless sounds that refuse to become meaning. Gabriel Ambrose. Gabriel. The man in my bed. The man whose child is growing inside me.
"You're lying."
"I'm not." Zach's voice is gentle now, almost kind. "Open the envelope, Poppy. See for yourself."
My hands move without my permission, reaching for the manila paper, pulling it toward me. Inside, I find documents—old police reports with sections redacted, official-looking papers bearing the seal of organizations I don't recognize, photographs faded with age.
And pages torn from a journal. Handwritten, the ink faded but legible.
I start to read.
September 14th. The new student in my advanced Latin class shows promise. Gabriel Ambrose—one of the Ambrose family. I'll need to be careful with this one. Powerful connections. But there's something in his eyes when he looks at me. Something that tells me he'll break beautifully.
My stomach heaves. I flip to another page.
October 30th. Gabriel stayed after class today, as instructed. He's learning his place. They always do, eventually. The proud ones are the most satisfying when they finally crumble.
I can't read anymore. I shove the papers back into the envelope, my hands trembling so badly I can barely fold the flap.
"Your father was a monster," Zach says quietly. "Gabriel killed him. At sixteen years old, he strangled Dwayne Thomas in a bathroom at St. Augustine's and watched him die. And then his family—his father, the Brotherhood—they made it all disappear. No investigation, no consequences. Just a tragic accident and a promising young man with his whole future ahead of him."
"He was a victim." The words come out before I can stop them. "If what you're saying is true—if Dwayne was doing those things to him—then Gabriel was—"
"A victim who became a predator." Zach's expression hardens. "That kill was the first of many, Poppy. Gabriel Ambrose developed a taste for it that night. He's been killing ever since—anyone who threatens him, anyone who gets in his way. You saw it yourself, didn't you? At the gala?"
Jack Woolworth. Blood pooling on marble floors. Gabriel's face in the candlelight, peaceful and terrible.
"Your mother spent twenty-five years running from a ghost," Zach continues. "She never knew Dwayne was dead. Never knew she was free. All that fear, all that hiding—for nothing. And now you're in the same trap she was, bound to another monster who will never let you go."
