Chapter 5: The Woman Who Never Stopped Fighting
I called Nia seventeen times before she answered.
“Adrian, what is it?””
“Are you home?””
A pause.
“Yes.””
“Is the door locked?””
“Why are you asking me that?””
“Just answer.””
“Yes, it's locked. Malik is doing his homework.””
I pressed my back against the side of my car and scanned the street.
“Don't open the door for anyone. Don't use the elevator. If you have a rear exit, use it.””
Her voice hardened.
“What have you done?””
“Nothing. My father sent me a photograph of your building.””
Silence.
Then I heard Malik in the background.
“Mom, who is it?””
“No one, sweetheart. Keep working.””
Nia returned to the phone.
“You need to tell me exactly what is happening.””
I told her about the envelope, the forged addition to her divorce settlement, and the threat demanding that I surrender the documents.
When I finished, she didn't speak for several seconds.
Then she whispered, “He found us again.””
“Did he ever stop looking?””
“I thought he had.””
Her voice cracked.
“For three years, we moved whenever I found out someone had been asking questions about us. I changed jobs. I stopped using my old bank account. I even stopped taking Malik to the same playground because a man kept appearing there.””
My stomach twisted.
“Why didn't you tell me?””
“Because the last time I trusted someone to help me, your father found out before I could get home.””
“Who did you trust?””
“My mother.””
I remembered Nia's mother, Patricia, a retired schoolteacher who had always welcomed me into her house. After our divorce, I had called her once. She told me Nia wanted nothing to do with me, and I accepted that answer.
“Your mother said you didn't want to see me.””
“She was trying to protect me.””
“What happened to her?””
Nia went quiet.
“She died two years ago.””
I closed my eyes.
“I didn't know.””
“Of course you didn't. You never called again.””
The accusation was deserved, but there was no time to defend myself.
“Nia, I'm coming to you.””
“No.””
“Someone is threatening Malik.””
“And what happens when your father discovers you've come here? He knows how to use people, Adrian. He knows how to make everything look like an accident.””
“I won't let him hurt you.””
“You said that once before.””
Her words cut through me.
I remembered standing in my office seven years earlier while she begged me to look at the ultrasound pictures in her purse.
I had turned away.
Now I was asking her to believe a promise from the same man who had abandoned her.
“Tell me what you need me to do,” I said.
She hesitated.
“There's a community center two blocks from our building. The director knows me. If we leave, I'll take Malik there.””
“Stay on the phone with me.””
“I have to get his coat.””
“Take the back stairs.””
“Adrian, stop giving me orders.””
I fell silent.
Then I heard her take a breath.
“I'm sorry,” she said.
“I'm scared.””
“So am I.””
That seemed to surprise her.
“I've never heard you say that.””
“Neither have I.””
For a moment, we were simply two frightened people connected by a phone call and a child neither of us could afford to lose.
Then Nia said, “We're leaving now.””
I drove toward her building.
When I arrived, the entrance stood empty beneath the bright afternoon sky. I parked illegally beside a delivery truck and ran toward the rear alley.
Nia emerged through a metal door, holding Malik's hand. She carried a small backpack over one shoulder and the cardboard box containing his birthday cake in the other.
Malik spotted me.
“You came!””
He hurried forward, then stopped as if he wasn't sure whether he was allowed to get closer.
I crouched.
“Hey, buddy.””
“Mom says we have to go somewhere safe.””
“She's right.””
“Is it because of my grandfather?””
Nia froze.
I looked at her.
She slowly closed her eyes.
“Malik,” she said, “where did you hear that name?””
He pointed toward the apartment building.
“The man who came yesterday said he was my grandfather. He said he wanted to give me a present.””
My entire body went rigid.
“What man?”” I asked.
“He wore a fancy coat. He asked if Mom was home. She told him to leave.””
Nia's face had gone pale.
“He told Malik he was family,” she whispered.
“I thought he was just trying to frighten me.””
“What did he look like?””
Malik frowned, thinking.
“He had white hair. And a gold watch.””
My father wore a gold watch every day.
I stood and scanned the alley.
A vehicle turned onto the street at the far end. I couldn't see the driver through the windshield.
“Let's go,” I said.
We reached the community center without seeing anyone follow us.
The director, a middle-aged woman named Mrs. Carter, led us into a small office and locked the door. She brought Malik a blanket and a cup of warm milk while Nia sat beside him, rubbing his back.
I stood by the window with the envelope in my hands.
“I'm taking you both somewhere secure,” I said.
Nia shook her head.
“Not your house.””
“Why?””
“Because your father knows every property you own. He knows your staff, your security company, and probably the names of everyone who cleans your kitchen.””
“Then where?””
She considered that.
“Somewhere he wouldn't expect me to go.””
She opened her backpack and removed an old key attached to a faded blue ribbon.
“My mother left me a storage unit.””
I stared at her.
“You have a storage unit?””
“She rented it years ago. She kept personal papers there because she didn't trust anyone in the family with them.””
“Why didn't you tell me this before?””
“Because I didn't know what was in it.””
She closed her fingers around the key.
“After she died, I couldn't bring myself to open it.””
We arranged for Mrs. Carter to keep Malik safe while Nia and I went to the storage facility. Malik protested at first, but his mother knelt beside him.
“Baby, I'm going to get something important. I'll be back soon.””
“Promise?””
“I promise.””
He wrapped his arms around her neck.
“And Mom?””
“Yes?””
“Don't let the man with the gold watch take you.””
Nia held him tighter.
“I won't.””
The storage facility was a low brick building on the edge of the business district. The manager recognized Nia's name and escorted us to a unit at the end of a narrow corridor.
She inserted the key.
The door rolled upward.
Inside were several plastic containers, two suitcases, and a wooden chest.
Nia knelt beside the chest and brushed dust from its lid.
“This belonged to my mother.””
I helped her lift it onto a table.
Inside were photographs, medical bills, a bundle of letters tied with string, and a sealed envelope bearing my mother's handwriting.
I recognized it instantly.
The elegant loops of the letters were unmistakable.
My mother had written my name on the front.
*For Adrian, if he ever discovers what happened to Nia and her baby.*
I opened it with trembling fingers.
The letter was dated six months before my mother died.
My darling boy,
If you are reading this, then your father has failed to keep the truth buried.
I stopped.
Nia watched me, her face tense.
I continued.
I discovered that your father had ordered a false medical report and planned to separate you from Nia before the baby was born. I confronted him. He told me he was protecting the company, but I know there is another reason.
My fingers tightened around the paper.
Your father is terrified of what will happen when you learn who your grandfather really is.
I read the sentence twice.
My grandfather had died before I was born. I knew his name, his old business records, and almost nothing else.
Why would my father be afraid of the truth about him?
I reached the bottom of the page.
There, in my mother's shaky handwriting, were the final words.
Adrian, the child is not the only person your father has lied about. The truth is hidden in the original birth records. Find the name he erased before he destroys the last copy.
I looked at Nia.
“What does this mean?””
She was staring at the letter as if it had brought back a memory she had spent years trying to bury.
Then she opened the wooden chest again and removed a small, yellowed birth certificate.
The name printed beneath the father's line had been crossed out in thick black ink.
But beneath the ink, faintly visible, were two words.
*Daniel Brooks.*
My father's name.
Nia lifted her eyes to mine.
“Adrian,” she whispered, “your father isn't afraid that Malik will inherit the company.””
“Then what is he afraid of?””
She turned the birth certificate over.
On the back was a hospital stamp and a handwritten note.
*IDENTITY DISPUTED. ORIGINAL PATERNITY RECORD SEALED BY COURT ORDER.*
May you like
Nia's lips trembled.
“He's afraid someone will discover that the man who raised you may not be your biological father.””
