Chapter 2 - The Man Who Knew My Mother Before I Was Born
The private elevator opened onto a floor I later learned almost nobody was allowed to visit.
Nathaniel led me into a private office overlooking the city.
Rain streaked down the windows.
He locked the door behind us.
“Sit.”
I sat.
He remained standing.
The security chief entered carrying an old brown box.
Nathaniel took it without saying thank you.
He opened it.
Inside were photographs.
I expected to see strangers.
Instead, I saw my mother.
Younger.
Her hair longer.
Her face brighter.
She was standing beside a woman I didn't know.
Then I saw Nathaniel.
He was much younger too.
But unmistakably him.
My fingers tightened around the chair.
“How do you know my mother?”
Nathaniel didn't answer immediately.
He picked up another photograph.
There were four people.
Nathaniel.
My mother.
A man with dark hair.
And an older woman.
“Who are they?”
“The man is your father.”
I stared.
“My father?”
Nathaniel nodded.
I had never seen him before.
My mother had told me almost nothing.
“What's his name?”
Nathaniel looked at the photograph.
“Julian Hart.”
I repeated the name.
“Why did he leave?”
Nathaniel hesitated.
“He didn't.”
My throat tightened.
“What do you mean?”
“He disappeared.”
“Because he died?”
“No.”
“Then where is he?”
“I don't know.”
I didn't believe him.
“You're lying.”
He looked at me.
“I've lied to a lot of people in my life, Ruby.”
His voice was quiet.
“But not about this.”
He opened the file.
Julian Hart had worked for Graves Holdings.
Officially, he was a financial analyst.
Unofficially, he had been investigating an internal network that moved money through the company without authorization.
He had discovered something.
Someone had been stealing enormous sums.
Then he vanished.
My mother disappeared afterward.
Nathaniel had spent twelve years searching for both.
I stared at the photographs.
“Why?”
“Because Julian was my brother.”
I stopped breathing.
The man I had never seen was Nathaniel's younger brother.
“You're my uncle?”
Nathaniel looked almost uncomfortable.
“Technically.”
I stared.
Then something clicked.
The wallet.
The money.
The building.
The eviction notice.
Everything suddenly felt connected.
“Did you know about me?”
“No.”
“You didn't?”
“No.”
“Then how did you know my mother?”
“Because I loved her.”
The words were unexpected.
Not romantic.
Sad.
“She was important to my brother.”
I looked down.
“What happened?”
Nathaniel didn't answer.
Instead, he picked up the silver bracelet around my wrist.
“Your grandmother gave this to your mother.”
“My mother said that.”
“She told you the bracelet was valuable?”
“She said it wasn't about money.”
Nathaniel almost smiled.
“She was right.”
He pressed a tiny latch.
The bracelet opened.
Inside was a miniature engraved code.
I stared.
“What is that?”
“An account number.”
“Whose?”
“Your grandmother's.”
He called a banker.
Minutes later, we learned there was an old trust account.
It had never been touched.
The balance was thirty-two million dollars.
I laughed.
It sounded ridiculous.
“No.”
Nathaniel shook his head.
“That's why the eviction notice doesn't make sense.”
“What?”
“Your mother should never have been poor.”
I suddenly became angry.
“You think she chose this?”
“No.”
“Then don't talk about her like that.”
He stared at me.
“You're right.”
He sat down.
“She was protecting you.”
“From who?”
Nathaniel didn't answer.
The office door opened.
A woman walked in.
She looked elegant.
Forties.
Blonde.
Perfect suit.
Nathaniel's face hardened.
“Vivian.”
She smiled.
“I heard there was a child.”
I moved closer to Nathaniel.
Vivian noticed.
“Is this her?”
Nathaniel nodded.
Vivian looked at me.
Then the bracelet.
Her smile vanished.
“Where did she get that?”
“My mother.”
Vivian's eyes widened.
“You need to send her away.”
Nathaniel immediately shook his head.
“Leave.”
“This is bigger than you.”
“Leave.”
She obeyed.
I waited until the door shut.
“Who was she?”
“Someone I used to trust.”
“Do you trust her now?”
“No.”
“Why?”
He looked at the door.
“Because she knows too much.”
That night, I stayed in Nathaniel's penthouse.
I was supposed to sleep in the guest room.
Instead, I stayed awake.
The city looked enormous through the windows.
Nathaniel appeared in the doorway.
“You should sleep.”
“My mother will worry.”
“She doesn't know you're here.”
“She'll be scared.”
“I'll take you home.”
“Can we go now?”
“No.”
“Why?”
“Because someone is watching your mother's apartment.”
I froze.
“How do you know?”
“My men found two vehicles outside.”
I looked at him.
“Are they going to hurt her?”
“No.”
“How do you know?”
“Because they haven't entered.”
He paused.
“Yet.”
I hugged my backpack.
“Can I call her?”
“Yes.”
I used the office phone.
No answer.
Again.
Nothing.
Nathaniel looked at me.
“Try once more.”
I did.
Still nothing.
Then I remembered something.
My mother had a rule.
If she didn't answer the phone, I was never supposed to go home alone.
Nathaniel took out his phone.
“Find her.”
His team worked immediately.
Twenty minutes later, someone called.
Nathaniel listened.
His eyes hardened.
“Say that again.”
He turned toward me.
“They found the apartment.”
My stomach twisted.
“Is my mother there?”
Silence.
Nathaniel's face became cold.
“She's gone.”
I shook my head.
“No.”
“They found blood.”
“No.”
He knelt beside me.
“Ruby.”
“No.”
I pushed past him.
“I have to go.”
He caught me before I reached the door.
“Listen to me.”
“Let go!”
“Your mother would want you alive.”
I stopped.
His voice cracked.
“Because Julian died trying to keep you alive.”
I stared.
“My father died?”
Nathaniel nodded.
“He didn't abandon you.”
Tears filled my eyes.
“What happened?”
Nathaniel looked away.
“I'll tell you when you're older.”
“I am older.”
“You're eight.”
“I'm still old enough.”
He almost smiled.
Then his phone rang.
This time, he answered.
His expression changed.
“Where?”
He listened.
“Don't move anything.”
He hung up.
“What?”
He looked at the bracelet.
“Your mother left us a clue.”
“Where?”
“She left it inside the wallet.”
We opened the hidden lining.
A tiny photograph fell out.
My mother.
My father.
Nathaniel.
And another man.
On the back was a handwritten sentence.
Nathaniel knows the truth, but he doesn't know who betrayed him.
I looked at him.
“Who betrayed you?”
He stared at the photograph.
May you like
Then said,
“My father.”
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