Chapter 2: November 14
Adrian read the message again.
*Stop talking to the old man.*
The screen dimmed in his hand.
Across the table, the old man stared at him with a look Adrian could not read. Fear, certainly. But beneath it was something deeper.
Guilt.
Adrian slipped the phone into his pocket.
“You said you buried my mother.””
The old man nodded.
“Where?””
“I’ll show you.””
“Now.””
The old man glanced toward the restaurant windows.
“Not here.””
Adrian looked over his shoulder.
His security chief, Marcus, had already moved toward the entrance. Two other guards were scanning the room.
“Claire,” Adrian said, “clear the private dining room.””
Claire hesitated.
“Adrian, we should call the police.””
The old man flinched.
“No police.””
Adrian noticed.
“Why?””
“Because the last time I trusted the police, my son disappeared.””
“That doesn’t answer my question.””
“It’s the only answer I have.””
Adrian stood.
The old man struggled to rise.
Marcus stepped forward to support him.
The old man immediately pulled away.
“I can walk.””
Adrian watched him limp across the restaurant.
For someone who claimed to be his father, the man knew almost nothing about him.
Yet he knew the one name Adrian had spent his entire life trying not to remember.
Daniel.
They entered the private room.
The door closed.
The noise of the restaurant disappeared.
Adrian remained standing.
“Start at the beginning.””
The old man sat across from him.
“My name is Samuel Hart.””
Adrian's face remained expressionless.
“Your name isn't in any of my records.””
“You wouldn't find it.””
“Why?””
“Because twenty years ago, I stopped using it.””
Samuel reached into his coat and removed a small leather wallet.
Inside was a faded driver's license.
He placed it on the table.
Adrian picked it up.
The photograph showed a much younger man with dark hair and bright eyes.
He looked thinner than Adrian remembered from the photograph of the family.
But there was something unmistakable in the face.
The same crooked line beneath the left eye.
Adrian looked up.
“Samuel Hart.””
“Yes.””
“Where were you living?””
“Bellweather County.””
Adrian knew the name.
A rural county three hours outside the city.
His memories were blurry there.
A red barn.
A creek.
A woman humming in a kitchen.
A blue bicycle with one broken pedal.
He shut his eyes.
The memories came in fragments.
Then vanished.
“What do you remember?”” Samuel asked.
“Nothing useful.””
“That’s because they made sure of it.””
Adrian's eyes snapped open.
“What does that mean?””
Samuel leaned forward.
“After they found you, you were taken to a private hospital.””
“Which hospital?””
“St. Vincent.””
Adrian froze.
That name was familiar.
Not from childhood.
From his adult life.
Three years earlier, one of his companies had acquired the hospital's parent corporation.
“That's impossible.””
“I know.””
“My records say I was admitted to Mercy General after the accident.””
“Those records were changed.””
Adrian stood abruptly.
“Who changed them?””
Samuel shook his head.
“I don't know.””
“You expect me to believe somebody erased my childhood?””
“I expect you to believe what you can prove.””
Samuel reached inside his coat again.
This time, he pulled out a folded piece of paper.
Adrian opened it.
The paper was yellowed and brittle.
At the top was a hospital letterhead.
*ST. VINCENT PRIVATE MEDICAL CENTER*
Below it was a handwritten note.
*Male child, approximately eight years old. Name: Daniel Hart.*
Adrian's fingers tightened around the page.
Then he saw the date.
November 15.
Twenty years ago.
“One day after you said my mother died.””
“Yes.””
Adrian looked up.
“Who brought me there?””
Samuel's eyes filled with tears.
“I did.””
The room went silent.
Adrian stared at him.
“You brought me to the hospital?””
“I had no choice.””
“You abandoned me.””
“No.””
“You just said you took me there!””
“I took you there because you were bleeding.””
Samuel's voice broke.
“You had a head injury. Your mother was dying. You were unconscious.””
Adrian's jaw tightened.
“What happened to her?””
Samuel lowered his gaze.
“She was alive when I left you.””
Adrian's expression changed.
“You said you buried her.””
“I did.””
“Then how was she alive?””
“Because she died later.””
“Where?””
“At home.””
Samuel's hand began to shake.
“There was blood everywhere. She kept asking for you.””
Adrian said nothing.
“She knew they would come back.””
“Who?””
Samuel looked directly at him.
“The men who wanted you.””
“Why did they want an eight-year-old boy?””
“I don't know.””
“Stop saying that.””
Adrian struck the table with his palm.
“You keep telling me you don't know. You know enough to recognize me after twenty years. You know my childhood name. You know the date my mother died.
You have a photograph of me. You have hospital records. So tell me the truth.””
Samuel stared at him.
Then he said quietly,
“Your mother discovered something.””
“What?””
“Something about the people who had been helping your family.””
Adrian frowned.
“Helping us with what?””
“Money.””
Samuel glanced toward the closed door.
“Your mother worked as an accountant for a private investment firm.””
Adrian slowly sat down.
“That doesn't make sense.””
“She found accounts that didn't belong there.””
“What kind of accounts?””
“Money moved through shell companies. Millions at first. Then hundreds of millions.””
Adrian's stomach tightened.
“You think my mother was investigating financial crimes?””
“She wasn't trying to investigate anything.””
Samuel rubbed his hands together.
“She found a name.””
“Whose?””
“The name of the man who financed the company.””
Adrian stared at him.
“And?””
Samuel's voice fell to a whisper.
“It was yours.””
Adrian frowned.
“What?””
“Not your name.””
Samuel touched the compass.
“Your family name.””
Adrian looked at the necklace.
“Then why would they want me?””
“Because your mother had proof.””
“What proof?””
Samuel hesitated.
“A ledger.””
Adrian waited.
“A black ledger with handwritten account numbers. Dates. Transfers. Names.””
“Where is it?””
“I don't know.””
“You lost it?””
“No.””
Samuel's eyes lifted.
“Your mother hid it.””
“Where?””
“I don't know.””
Adrian stood again.
“This is insane.””
He walked toward the window.
Rain streaked the glass.
His reflection stared back at him.
Billionaire.
Founder.
Investor.
Adrian Cole.
But for the first time in twenty years, the reflection didn't look familiar.
He turned.
“What happened the night I disappeared?””
Samuel took a long breath.
“We heard a car outside.””
“What kind?””
“Black sedan.””
“How many people?””
“Three.””
“Did they come inside?””
“Yes.””
“Were they armed?””
Samuel nodded.
“One of them held a gun to your mother's head.””
Adrian's throat tightened.
“What did she do?””
“She told me to take you and run.””
“And you did.””
“I carried you through the back door.””
“Why didn't you take her?””
“I tried.””
Samuel's eyes became wet.
“They caught me.””
Adrian said nothing.
“They beat me in the yard.””
Samuel pulled back the sleeve of his coat.
A pale scar ran from his wrist toward his elbow.
“They tied me to a tree.””
Adrian's eyes stayed on the scar.
“I heard a gunshot.””
He swallowed.
“Then another.””
“What did you do?””
“I screamed.””
Samuel's voice cracked.
“I screamed until my throat bled.””
Adrian could barely breathe.
“What happened to me?””
“I saw headlights.””
Samuel looked at him.
“A second vehicle came down the road.””
“Who was in it?””
“A man named Richard Vane.””
Adrian's eyes narrowed.
The name meant nothing.
“Who is he?””
Samuel shook his head.
“I never found out.””
“Then how do you know his name?””
“Your mother shouted it.””
Adrian froze.
“She did?””
“Right before they took you.””
Samuel's gaze dropped.
“She looked at me and said, ‘Don't let Richard Vane get Daniel.’”
Adrian slowly sat down.
Richard Vane.
The name felt like a locked door in his mind.
Something behind it pushed.
A man's voice.
A heavy ring striking a wooden desk.
A smell of cigar smoke.
Then nothing.
Adrian pressed his fingers against his temple.
“Why don't I remember?””
Samuel's expression softened.
“You were hurt.””
“That doesn't explain everything.””
“No.””
Samuel reached across the table.
“They told you a different story.””
“Who?””
“The people who raised you.””
Adrian's eyes hardened.
“My adoptive parents?””
Samuel nodded.
“Your mother and father were presented as dead.””
“They were dead.””
“Your mother was.””
“And my father?””
Samuel looked away.
Adrian's voice became quieter.
“My father?””
Samuel didn't answer.
“Samuel.””
The old man's eyes closed.
Then he whispered,
“Your father didn't die.””
Adrian's heart seemed to stop.
“What?””
“He survived.””
The room felt suddenly too small.
“Where is he?””
“I don't know.””
“You expect me to believe that?””
“He disappeared before I could find him.””
Adrian stood, his chair scraping violently against the floor.
“You've had twenty years to tell somebody this.””
“I tried.””
“Who did you tell?””
“No one would listen.””
“Why?””
Samuel's hand moved toward the compass.
“Because three days after you disappeared, I found something hidden inside this.””
Adrian looked at the necklace.
“Inside what?””
Samuel turned the compass over.
His thumb pressed against the brass edge.
A tiny click sounded.
The back panel opened.
Adrian stared.
Inside the compass was a miniature photograph.
A young woman.
His mother.
Beside her stood a man Adrian had never seen.
But the face on the photograph carried a strange resemblance to his own.
Adrian leaned closer.
“Who is that?””
Samuel looked at the picture.
“My brother.””
Adrian frowned.
“Your brother?””
Samuel nodded.
“Your uncle.””
Adrian's eyes moved across the photograph.
Then he saw something written on the back.
Four words.
*HE KNOWS WHO YOU ARE.*
Before Adrian could speak, the private room door slammed open.
Marcus rushed inside.
“Mr. Cole, we have a problem.””
Adrian turned.
“What?””
Marcus's face was tense.
“The old man's coat was searched.””
“By whom?””
Marcus looked toward Samuel.
“Someone was tracking him.””
Adrian's stomach dropped.
“What did you find?””
Marcus held up a small black device.
“A transmitter.””
Samuel went pale.
“No.””
Adrian stared at the device.
Then his phone vibrated again.
Unknown number.
One new message.
*You were warned.*
May you like
A second message appeared before he could open the first.
*Now ask your father why Richard Vane is still alive.*
