Krystina and I exited the restaurant and made our way across the sidewalk to the awaiting limousine. The hired driver held open the door for us as we approached. I guided Krystina inside, before glancing over my shoulder to see Hale just a few feet behind us. Before he had the chance to climb into the front passenger seat of the limo, I motioned him over to me.

“Any word from Justine?” I asked quietly.

“No, sir. I can go to her condo if you’d like,” Hale offered. There was sadness in the eyes of my security detail. It was an emotion that was uncharacteristic and somewhat alarming. Given the situation, I should have asked him what he knew about Charlie’s story. But, for some reason, I couldn’t bring myself to form the words. Just as I was stalling a more fervent attempt to find Justine. Something didn’t feel right in my gut, compelling me to proceed with caution.

“Just wait. I’ll give her another couple of days and then go there myself.”

“Yes, sir.”

I turned back to the limo and climbed inside beside Krystina. Once the driver closed the door, she slid over next to me and rested her head against my arm.

“Everything okay?” she asked.

I moved to wrap my arm around her, brought her head to my chest, and traced small circles on her shoulder with the tip of my finger.

“Everything is fine. I think the night was a huge success. The food critics loved the place. Matteo has a lot to look forward to.”

“I didn’t mean about the restaurant,” she said, her words barely above a whisper.

I knew that, but I was hoping she didn’t want to revisit the conversation we had before the party, despite my promise to answer her questions. The problem loomed over us all night. And while it never reared its ugly head, it was always lurking in the shadows.

“Justine hasn’t answered any of my calls. She hasn’t gotten back to Hale either. I’m concerned.”

Krystina became quiet, but I knew my angel. I was sure she had a thousand thoughts running through her mind. More than likely, she was deciding on which one to voice first. She reached out, ran her hand up my thigh, over my chest, before coming to rest on my cheek. She pulled back slightly and looked up at me. Her dark brown eyes were full of patience, but I could see the questions swirling in their depth too.

“Why Stone?” she asked.

“Stone?”

“Yes. Why did you choose that?”

I looked up ahead. The limo had begun to move, merging into the late evening traffic. Hale gave me a sideways glance, alerting me to the fact that we could be heard. Leaning forward, I pressed the button that would raise the privacy glass. I didn’t mind if Hale heard our conversation, as he was one of the very few who knew the history of my name. However, the limousine driver was out of the question. I knew the story would most likely come out soon, but I needed to hang on to my identity for just a little while longer.

Once the privacy glass was all the way up, I tilted my head to look down at Krystina.

“My grandfather’s name was Edward Stonewall. He was a European football player, or soccer player, as people in the United States call it. He played for Sheffield in the late nineteen forties, after the Second World War. He was a good defender, very good if the recounts I’ve read are correct, until he got injured. Leaving the sport was difficult for him. Fortunately, he had a young Italian wife to pick up the pieces,” I paused and took a moment to reminisce. I looked out the window at the passing buildings. The nightlights briefly illuminated them and created a mesmerizing strobe-like effect. “Lucille Silvestri, my grandmother, was a force to be reckoned with. She took the money he earned and moved them both to the United States. She said they needed a fresh start.”

“You said Stonewall. Did he shorten the name?”

“Yes and no. Everyone called him Stone, but it wasn’t his legal name and it was not one that he used. He didn’t start using it until,” I stopped momentarily and shook my head, not wanting to remember. “He didn’t start using the name until Justine and I started having a hard time in school. Everyone knew about the Russo kids, their dead father, and missing mother. We couldn’t escape it.”

“The day of the car accident, the reason I went to the library,” she began. Hurt shown in her eyes, tearing at my heart. I knew what she was going to say next, but I still asked.

“What about the library?”

“I told you why I was going there that day, Alex. I wanted to look into your family. I couldn’t find anything online and I just wanted to help you. You could have told me all of this then, but you never said anything. Why?”

“Outside of the fact that I wanted to keep the name dead and buried, there was also too much going on at the time. You were in the hospital and had barely begun to recover from your injuries when it came up. What was I supposed to say?”

“How about the truth?” she asked quietly, but I could still hear the accusation in her tone.

“No. The truth didn’t matter. My grandmother, like she did for her and my grandfather years earlier, gave us a fresh start.”

“How did she manage that? I mean, a story such as yours…” she trailed off. She didn’t need to go into detail. I lived it.

“We moved to another part of the city. She enrolled us in a new school under the names Alexander and Justine Stone. It was around this time that my grandparents legally changed their name to Stone. In doing so, it protected us and gave them anonymity from their previous life in England so as not to be easily discovered. Following my grandfather’s wishes, Justine and I legally changed ours once we turned eighteen.” I shrugged. “It was an easy adjustment because we had been going by Stone for years.”

“Who else knows this story besides Charlie, and well, now The City Times?”

I considered her question. It was a fair inquiry, especially after the way I deliberately kept the information from her.

“Hale and his mother know. I just recently learned that Justine told Charlie. I suspect that Matteo knows too, but I’m not certain.”

“You suspect?”

“Matteo’s grandmother, my grandmother, and Hale’s mother were all friends,” I clarified. “Matteo is five years younger than me, so it’s possible that he doesn’t remember the chaos of what went on back then. But he’s dropped hints here and there that makes me think he knows. Either way, I can trust him to not say anything. Other than those mentioned, Justine and I are the only ones who know about the name change. And, of course, now you know as well.”

“What about Stephen or Bryan?”

“They don’t know. Although, I have contemplated telling Stephen. He is my lawyer after all. Given the current situation, I suppose I’ll have to tell him sooner rather than later.”

She looked thoughtful for a minute before her eyes suddenly widened. She bolted up right.

“No! Alex, I think Suzanne knows too!”

“Suzanne Jacobs? Justine’s friend? What makes you think that?”

“It was something she said on the night of the charity ball. I just passed it off as drunk ramblings, but now I don’t know.”

“Krystina, what did she say?” I demanded a little too harshly.

“It was nonsense, really. I haven’t even thought about it until now. She kept carrying on about how I didn’t know the real you. She was talking to me like I was just a silly child, but it was the way she said your name.” She hesitated and shook her head. Her vision seemed to cloud as if she were trying to piece something together.

“What do you mean? What about the way she said it, Krystina?” I fought the urge to shake the answer out of her.

“She said I was naïve and emphasized your name, like your name was a joke. Then she said that I didn’t know as much as I thought I did. I don’t know, Alex. It could be nothing.”

I ran a hand through my hair in frustration. Justine was close to Suzanne. There was a good chance that she did know.

“Fuck!”

“Alex, don’t jump to conclusions. I could be wrong,” she said and put a placating hand on my arm.

“She’s a woman scorned. She’ll talk. To hell with whatever stops Hale pulled out. If Suzanne does know, and The City Times finds this out, that’s all the corroboration they need to publish.” I sat back and pulled her close. “I’m sorry, angel. When I told you my story, I should have told you everything. I just didn’t think my old name held any relevance. But now, with Charlie’s interview, I know how everything looks.”

She settled into my arms easily, her warmth comforting the mounting fear I was feeling.

“It’s just a name, Alex.”

“I wish it were only that, angel,” I said and began to stroke the top of her hair. She had it styled up, bobby pins restricting her otherwise unruly curls. One by one, I began to pull them out, needing the feel of her soft locks between my fingers. She didn’t protest, but rather assisted my dismantling of her elaborate up-do.

“It is just a name,” she reiterated as she dumped a handful of bobby pins into her clutch. “You are Alexander Stone. While I might be hurt that I didn’t know all of this sooner, I understand why you did what you did. Others will too.”

“No, Krystina. You’re not seeing the big picture here.”

I took her face between my hands. Her now free curls cascaded down over her shoulders. The passing streetlights reflected behind her, casting a halo effect around her head. She was a vision, an angel that would save me from eternal damnation.

“Tell me, Alex. What am I missing then?”

“The gun I threw in the river, while I might have been just a child, Charlie’s interview is much more damaging than the actions of a distraught boy. The name change, my demolition of the old projects…those were decisions I made as an adult. I look guilty.”

“Are you guilty?”

“I don’t know, angel. I ask myself that same question every day.”