Chapter 6 - The Name Behind the Locked File
By midnight, Roman had moved Sophie and me.
Not home.
Not to another hospital.
To an entire private floor of a medical residence owned by one of his companies.
"You own a hospital?"
"A building."
"That's not better."
For the first time that day, Roman almost smiled.
Sophie slept in a bassinet beside me.
Two armed security officers remained outside.
I hated the guns.
I hated needing them more.
Mara arrived with documents.
"Grant filed for emergency paternity testing."
"So fast?"
"His attorneys prepared everything before the wedding."
That confirmed it.
"He knew I was pregnant."
"He suspected."
"Everyone keeps saying that."
"Because suspicion and proof are different."
Mara opened her laptop.
"More importantly, someone filed something else three months ago."
She showed me a trust document.
THE KINGSLEY SUCCESSION TRUST.
A clause had been highlighted.
Control of Kingsley Holdings would pass to the first verified biological descendant of founding patriarch Arthur Kingsley through the senior line.
"English."
"If Charles isn't Arthur's biological son, Grant's branch could lose its claim."
"But Charles is Arthur's son."
"Legally."
Roman entered.
"Biologically may be another matter."
He placed an old photograph on the table.
Arthur Kingsley.
Charles.
And another young man.
My father.
I stared.
"Dad?"
The photograph was dated thirty-two years earlier.
Before I was born.
"Why was my father with them?"
Roman sat.
"Because your father didn't begin as Charles's accountant."
"What was he?"
"Arthur Kingsley's personal assistant."
The story unfolded slowly.
Arthur had suspected something about Charles's birth.
He ordered private genetic testing.
My father handled the documents.
After Arthur died, those records vanished.
Years later, my father discovered them again while auditing old corporate archives.
"He was killed because of a paternity test?"
"Possibly."
I looked at Sophie.
"And now history is repeating."
Roman said nothing.
My phone buzzed.
A video message from Grant.
He sat alone in the back of a car.
His tuxedo jacket was gone.
"Elena, I know you hate me. You should. But whatever Roman is telling you, don't trust him completely. My father is looking for something your father hid. If he believes you have it, he won't stop because there's a baby involved. He'll become worse."
The video ended.
Another message followed.
MEET ME ALONE.
Roman watched my face.
"Grant?"
"Yes."
"What does he want?"
"To meet."
"No."
"I wasn't asking permission."
"No."
"Roman."
"You gave birth today."
"And somebody infiltrated my hospital room today."
"Exactly."
"Then hiding isn't working."
His jaw tightened.
Mara looked between us.
"She's right."
Roman gave her a cold look.
"Thank you, counselor."
Mara ignored him.
"Grant may know something."
Roman finally nodded.
"But not alone."
We arranged the meeting in a private conference room downstairs.
Grant arrived at 1:20 a.m.
He looked nothing like a groom anymore.
He looked exhausted.
"Where's Claire?" I asked.
"Gone."
"Adrian?"
"With her."
"I'm sorry."
"No, you're not."
"You're right."
He almost smiled.
Then his gaze hardened.
"My father knows about the baby."
"How?"
"I told him."
Roman swore quietly.
"Why?"
"Because I thought Sophie might secure the trust."
There it was.
The ugliest truth.
Not daughter.
Trust.
"I want you to leave."
"Wait."
Grant pushed a key across the table.
Small.
Brass.
Number 417 engraved on it.
"Your father gave me this eleven years ago."
I stared.
"What?"
"The night he died."
Roman stepped forward.
"You're lying."
Grant looked at him.
"You weren't the only person he called."
I picked up the key.
"What does it open?"
"I don't know."
"Eleven years and you never checked?"
"I was twenty-four and terrified of my father."
Grant leaned closer.
"But yesterday Charles asked me whether Elena had ever mentioned locker 417."
My pulse stopped.
"Why would he ask now?"
"Because someone mailed him a photograph."
Grant slid his phone across.
The photograph showed my father standing beside a row of old safe-deposit boxes.
His finger pointed directly toward number 417.
Behind him, reflected faintly in polished metal, stood another person.
A woman.
I enlarged the image.
My breath disappeared.
"That's my mother."
Roman stared at it.
Then the conference-room lights went out.
A security alarm sounded.
Roman grabbed my arm.
"Stay down."
Somewhere upstairs, a baby began screaming.
My baby.
May you like
Then a voice came over Roman's radio.
"Mr. Vale, someone just entered the nursery."
