Chapter 10: The Father Who Chose the Wrong Son
"Because I am trying to save you from the mistake I made twenty-two years ago.""
My father's words kept echoing in my head long after the call ended.
I stared at my phone.
Nobody in the warehouse spoke.
My mother was crying silently. Emily stood beside her, gripping the edge of the table. Laura had moved closer to Detective Harris, who was studying the digital documents on his laptop.
Whitmore sat with his hands folded.
He looked like a man who had finally run out of lies.
I turned toward him.
"Where is my father?""
Whitmore shook his head.
"I don't know.""
"Don't give me that.""
"Ethan, I haven't spoken to Thomas in almost a year.""
"Yet you knew he was alive.""
"Yes.""
"And you knew about Edward.""
He nodded.
I leaned forward.
"Then tell me why my father said he chose the wrong son.""
Whitmore looked at my mother.
She wiped her eyes.
"Samuel, tell him.""
He took a deep breath.
"Your grandfather owned a small manufacturing company before Vance Industries existed. When his two sons were young, he promised that whichever one proved capable of leading the business would inherit it.""
"Thomas was my father.""
"Yes. But Edward was the older brother.""
"What happened?""
"Edward was brilliant, ambitious, and ruthless. He believed your grandfather was holding him back. He began moving company money into private accounts.""
Whitmore paused.
"Your father discovered it.""
I frowned.
"So Edward was stealing?""
"Yes. But when your grandfather confronted him, Edward blamed Thomas. He produced falsified records showing that your father had authorized the transfers.""
My mother stepped forward.
"Thomas told me about that night. His father believed Edward.""
Whitmore nodded.
"Thomas was forced out. Edward inherited the business. But your father eventually started Vance Industries independently.""
I looked at the photograph of the two brothers.
"And Chad's family?""
"Edward had already established a relationship with the Morrisons. They believed they could use your father's company to reclaim what they thought belonged to them.""
I rubbed my forehead.
"Then why did my father keep Edward's existence secret?""
Whitmore looked toward the window.
"Because your father eventually made the same mistake his father had made.""
"What mistake?""
"He trusted the wrong son.""
My mother suddenly stiffened.
"Samuel, don't.""
He continued anyway.
"When you were seventeen, Thomas discovered that Edward had been communicating with someone inside your family. He believed one of his sons was helping Edward.""
I stared at him.
"I was his only son.""
Whitmore didn't answer.
My mother looked at the floor.
I turned toward her.
"What aren't you telling me?""
She shook her head.
"Ethan, there is something I never wanted you to know.""
I felt my stomach tighten.
"Tell me.""
She took Emily's hand.
"Before you were born, your father and I adopted a little boy.""
I stared at her.
"What?""
"He was three years old. His name was Daniel.""
The room became completely silent.
I had never heard that name.
Not once.
My mother continued.
"Thomas loved him. He raised him as his own. But when Daniel was six, he disappeared.""
I looked at Whitmore.
"Disappeared how?""
"He was taken from the family home," Whitmore explained.
"There was no ransom demand. No evidence of a break-in.""
My mother began crying.
"We searched for years.""
I felt my throat tighten.
"Was he ever found?""
She shook her head.
"No.""
I looked again at the photograph.
Then at the company's current board registration.
The digital signature.
The mysterious identity.
"E. Vance.""
My mother covered her mouth.
"Edward?""
Whitmore shook his head.
"No.""
He looked at me.
"Daniel.""
I felt the floor shift beneath me.
"You're telling me my missing brother is alive?""
Whitmore nodded.
"And he's been working with Edward.""
I sat down.
Everything suddenly made sense.
The company takeover.
The forged signatures.
The strange message about choosing the wrong son.
My father had been trying to protect me from someone who shared his name.
Someone who had grown up believing he had been abandoned.
My mother whispered:
"Daniel wouldn't hurt us.""
Whitmore looked at her sadly.
"He already has.""
An hour later, Detective Harris received a location from the phone company.
The number used to contact me had briefly connected to a private communications tower outside Portland.
It belonged to an abandoned estate.
The property was registered to a company called Eastbridge Holdings.
Laura recognized the name.
"That's the company Richard Coleman used to move the money.""
I looked at Emily.
"Can you trace the ownership?""
She opened her laptop.
Within minutes, she found the records.
The registered director was listed as Daniel Vance.
My missing brother.
Detective Harris immediately arranged a team.
I insisted on accompanying them.
This time, he didn't argue.
My mother wanted to come too, but I asked her to stay with Emily.
She hugged me tightly.
"Please bring your brother home.""
I nodded.
But I couldn't promise that.
The estate stood behind a rusted iron gate.
The house was enormous, with broken windows and overgrown gardens.
Police officers surrounded the property.
I stepped out of the vehicle.
A light flickered upstairs.
Someone was inside.
Detective Harris raised his hand.
"Stay behind me.""
We entered through the front door.
The hallway smelled of dust and damp wood.
On the wall hung dozens of framed photographs.
I stopped at the first one.
It showed my father holding a baby.
Beside him stood a little boy.
Me.
And another child.
Daniel.
I stared at the picture.
I had forgotten his face.
But I remembered the feeling of having a brother.
A small hand holding mine.
A voice calling me by a silly nickname.
Then the memory of him disappearing.
I heard footsteps upstairs.
"Police!"" Harris shouted.
A door slammed.
Officers rushed toward the staircase.
I followed.
At the end of the hallway, a man stood beside an open window.
He was in his late thirties.
Dark hair.
Sharp jaw.
And my father's eyes.
He turned.
For several seconds, we stared at each other.
Then he smiled sadly.
"Ethan.""
My throat tightened.
"Daniel?""
He nodded.
"I wondered how long it would take you.""
I took a step forward.
"Where have you been?""
His expression hardened.
"Ask your father.""
"Why are you doing this?""
He laughed.
"Because you got everything.""
"I didn't even know you existed.""
"Exactly.""
His voice rose.
"You got the house. The company. The family. I got nothing.""
I shook my head.
"You were six years old.""
"And old enough to remember being abandoned.""
He reached into his jacket.
Detective Harris immediately raised his weapon.
"Hands where I can see them!""
Daniel froze.
Then he slowly removed a folded photograph.
He placed it on the windowsill.
It showed my father standing beside him outside the estate.
The date was from three weeks earlier.
I stared.
"He's here?""
Daniel nodded.
"He's been here all along.""
"Where?""
Daniel looked at me.
Then he smiled.
"He's downstairs.""
A door opened beneath us.
Footsteps echoed through the house.
And a familiar voice called out:
"Daniel, don't make me come up there.""
My father had finally come home.
But when he appeared at the bottom of the staircase, he wasn't looking at me.
He was looking at Daniel.
May you like
And the first words out of his mouth were:
"Son, put the gun down.""
