Chapter 3: The Secret Inside the Bannon Name
The morning after the dinner, Jillian found Patrick standing in the kitchen before sunrise.
That alone scared her.
Patrick loved sleep.
He once joked that waking up early was a sign of poor decision-making.
But now he stood beside the counter, staring at a cup of untouched coffee.
“You’re worried.””
He looked up.
“No.””
“Patrick.””
He sighed.
“You shouldn’t have challenged my father.””
Jillian stared at him.
“Your father is pressuring Cody.””
“He’s grieving.””
“He’s controlling.””
Patrick looked away.
That hurt more than anger.
Because silence meant agreement.
“Patrick, what happened to Shawn?””
His face changed.
“What?””
“You never talk about it.””
“Because he’s dead.””
“That’s not an answer.””
Patrick walked toward the window.
“My brother made mistakes.””
“What kind?””
“Jillian.””
“What kind?””
He did not answer.
And that frightened her more than anything.
Later that afternoon, Cody came home early from school.
His face was pale.
“Jillian.””
She immediately stood.
“What happened?””
“There was a man waiting outside.””
Her stomach tightened.
“What man?””
“He knew my name.””
She walked closer.
“What did he say?””
Cody swallowed.
“He said, ‘Your family needs you to remember who you are.’”
The room went cold.
“Did you know him?””
“No.””
“Did he touch you?””
“No.””
“Did he follow you?””
“I don’t know.””
Jillian grabbed her phone.
She called Patrick.
No answer.
Again.
No answer.
Then a message appeared.
From Patrick.
Don’t panic. We need to talk tonight.
She stared at the screen.
That was not comforting.
That was a warning.
By evening, the Bannon house was surrounded.
Not by police.
By family.
Malcolm arrived first.
Then Dean.
Then two men Jillian had never seen before.
Cody noticed too.
“Why are they here?””
Jillian stepped in front of him.
“I don’t know.””
Malcolm entered without knocking.
“Where is the boy?””
Jillian’s heart dropped.
“He’s upstairs.””
“Good.””
She blocked the stairs.
“No.””
Everyone stopped.
Patrick stood behind Malcolm.
And Jillian saw something she never wanted to see.
Her husband was afraid.
“Patrick?””
He looked at her.
“I’m sorry.””
Those two words broke something inside her.
“Sorry for what?””
Malcolm answered.
“Cody needs to come with us.””
“No.””
“Jillian.””
“No.””
Malcolm’s expression hardened.
“You don’t understand what this family is.””
She looked around the room.
At the men.
At Patrick.
At the people who believed blood mattered more than choice.
Then she understood.
They were not asking.
They were collecting.
Jillian ran upstairs.
Cody was already there with his backpack.
“I heard everything.””
She grabbed his hand.
“Can you trust me?””
He nodded.
“Always.””
A sound came from downstairs.
The front door opening.
Jillian looked toward the window.
The only escape route.
“Cody, listen to me. When I say run, you run.””
“What about you?””
“I’m right behind you.””
But when they reached the back terrace, Jillian realized something.
The family had planned for this.
Men were already outside.
Waiting.
She pulled Cody toward the garden wall.
Then her phone buzzed.
Unknown number.
One message.
If you want the truth about Shawn Bannon, stop running and ask who benefited from his death.
Jillian stared at the words.
Behind her, Dean shouted.
“Jillian!””
Cody looked at her.
“Who sent that?””
She didn’t know.
But then another message arrived.
This time with a name.
A name that made her blood run cold.
May you like
Emmett Carbone knows what your husband’s family is hiding.
And ten minutes later, Jillian Bannon would run straight into the car of the one man her family feared most.
