Chapter 8: The Son Who Hated Him
At eight forty-five that evening, Adrian stood inside a parked black sedan two blocks from the river warehouse.
The city lights shimmered on the water. Delivery trucks rolled along the industrial road, and the warehouse's high windows glowed beneath rows of fluorescent lights.
Adrian had spent the last forty minutes arguing with Victor about whether he should go inside.
“You can't walk in there alone,” Victor said through the earpiece.
Adrian adjusted his jacket.
“The message said to come alone.””
“And the people who sent it have already lied about a dozen things.””
“Then I'll find out what else they're lying about.””
Victor's voice sharpened.
“Adrian, if you die tonight, the children lose their only chance to learn the truth.””
Adrian looked through the windshield at the warehouse entrance.
“I've already lost eleven years.””
He ended the call.
Inside the sedan, a small screen displayed a live feed from a camera Malcolm had attached to Adrian's lapel. The former security chief had insisted that someone needed to know what happened if Adrian disappeared.
Adrian had agreed only after Danielle threatened to refuse to let Eli remain with him.
The boy was waiting at a secure hotel with Danielle and Marcus, who had volunteered to stay with them.
Before Adrian left, Eli had handed him the old photograph.
“Bring my brother home,” the boy had whispered.
Now those words followed him toward the warehouse.
A metal door opened as Adrian approached.
A guard stepped outside.
“Mr. Blackwood?””
Adrian nodded.
“Your brother is expecting you.””
“Which one?””
The guard's expression didn't change.
“Inside.””
Adrian entered.
The warehouse smelled of dust, oil, and damp concrete. Metal shelving lined the walls, and a row of industrial lamps illuminated an open space near the center.
An elderly man sat in a wheelchair beneath the brightest lamp.
Adrian stopped walking.
His father looked older than the photograph. His cheeks had hollowed, his hands trembled slightly, and a thin blanket covered his legs.
But his eyes were the same.
Sharp. Intelligent. Unforgiving.
“Hello, Adrian,” his father said.
Adrian's knees nearly buckled.
“Dad?””
The old man studied him.
“You've grown into a difficult man to reach.””
Adrian crossed the floor in three long strides.
“Where have you been?””
His father lifted one hand.
“Don't touch me.””
Adrian stopped.
For eleven years, he had imagined what he would say if he ever saw his father again. He had prepared accusations, questions, and desperate pleas for explanations.
Now, faced with the living man, he could barely form a sentence.
“You let me believe you were dead.””
His father looked away.
“I had my reasons.””
“You let me bury an empty coffin!””
“Lower your voice.””
Adrian laughed once, a broken sound.
“You don't get to tell me how loudly I grieve.””
A slow clap sounded from the shadows.
A teenage boy stepped into the light.
He was tall and lean, wearing dark jeans, a black jacket, and clean white sneakers. His eyes were Adrian's eyes. His scar matched Eli's.
Noah.
Adrian forgot how to breathe.
The boy raised a handgun.
“Stay where you are.””
Adrian held up both hands.
“Noah.””
“Don't say my name like you know me.””
“I've been looking for you.””
Noah laughed bitterly.
“Really? Because my father told me you stopped looking when the money ran out.””
Adrian glanced at the old man.
“Your father?””
“My grandfather raised me.””
The elderly man straightened in his wheelchair.
“Adrian, this is not the time.””
Noah pointed the gun more firmly.
“Shut up, Grandpa.””
The old man fell silent.
Adrian looked at the weapon.
“Are you going to shoot me?””
Noah's jaw tightened.
“If I wanted you dead, you wouldn't be standing here.””
The words sounded eerily familiar.
Victor had said almost the same thing to Eli.
Adrian took a slow breath.
“Your mother loved you.””
Noah's expression twisted.
“Don't talk about my mother.””
“Vanessa was my wife.””
“She was a woman who died because of you.””
Adrian shook his head.
“I never wanted her hurt.””
“But you drove the car that night.””
Adrian froze.
“What?””
Noah's eyes shone with fury.
“My grandfather told me everything. You were driving. You were arguing. You lost control of the car, and my mother died.””
Adrian stared at his father.
“That isn't what happened.””
The old man said nothing.
Noah stepped closer.
“You killed her, and then you let everyone believe your children were dead so you could protect your company.””
Adrian's chest tightened.
“Who told you that?””
“My grandfather.””
Adrian looked at the old man.
“Tell him the truth.””
His father folded his hands over the blanket.
“Truth is a luxury people can afford only when they have nothing left to lose.””
Adrian felt a cold rage rising inside him.
“You taught a child to hate his own father.””
“I taught him to survive.””
Noah's gun wavered.
“Stop lying to me!””
The shout echoed through the warehouse.
Adrian took one careful step toward him.
“Noah, look at me.””
“Don't move!””
Adrian stopped.
“I don't expect you to believe me. You don't owe me trust. But I need you to know that I loved your mother.
I loved you before I ever saw your face. And I never stopped wondering what happened to you.””
Noah's eyes filled with tears, but his expression remained hard.
“Then why didn't you find me?””
“Because I was told you were dead.””
“Convenient.””
Adrian shook his head.
“No. It was the worst lie of my life.””
For a moment, Noah's weapon lowered.
Then his grandfather spoke.
“Ask him about the money.””
Noah immediately raised the gun again.
“The money that was supposed to be yours and Eli's. The money your father used to buy silence.””
Adrian looked at his father.
“What are you talking about?””
The old man pulled a document from beneath his blanket.
“Your name is on the transfers, Adrian. Your signature authorized the payments that led to Vanessa's death.””
Adrian stared at the paper.
It was the same forged signature he'd seen earlier.
Noah watched him.
“Tell me it's fake.””
“It is.””
“Prove it.””
Adrian reached into his jacket and removed his phone.
“I can show you my banking records, my travel records, and the original signatures from that year. I can prove I wasn't involved.””
Noah's eyes narrowed.
“Why should I believe you?””
“You shouldn't. Not yet.””
Adrian placed his phone on the concrete floor and slid it toward Noah.
“Check everything yourself.””
Noah glanced at the device.
For the first time, uncertainty crossed his face.
Then the warehouse lights flickered.
A loud crash sounded behind the loading doors.
The guard who had escorted Adrian inside ran toward them.
“Mr. Blackwood! We have a problem!””
The old man grabbed the wheelchair's armrests.
“What happened?””
The guard's face was white.
“Someone has breached the east entrance.””
Noah spun toward the sound.
A burst of gunfire shattered the silence.
Adrian lunged forward, knocking Noah to the floor as bullets tore through the shelving behind them.
The old man shouted.
The guard disappeared behind a stack of crates.
Adrian covered Noah with his body.
“Stay down!””
Noah struggled beneath him.
“Get off me!””
“Not until they stop shooting!””
A second burst of gunfire erupted.
Then a voice boomed through the warehouse speakers.
“ADRIAN BLACKWOOD! SEND THE BOY OUT, AND EVERYONE ELSE WALKS AWAY!””
Noah went completely still.
Adrian looked at him.
“Who are they?””
Noah's face had lost all its color.
He whispered, “They're not here for you.””
Another crash sounded near the loading doors.
May you like
Noah swallowed hard.
“They're here to take me back.””
