Chapter 2 - The Man Who Knew My Father
The message stayed on my phone screen for almost five minutes.
I didn't move.
I didn't breathe.
I just stared at those words.
"Ask Adrian what happened the night your father died."
My first thought was to delete it.
My second thought was to pretend I never saw it.
But deep down, I knew something.
Someone had found me.
Someone knew exactly who I was.
And someone wanted me to ask questions.
The next morning, I walked into Adrian Blackwood's bedroom carrying his medication tray.
But everything felt different.
Before yesterday, he was my employer.
A wealthy man who needed help.
Now he was a piece of a puzzle I had spent twenty years trying to forget.
Adrian looked at me from his wheelchair.
"You didn't sleep."
It wasn't a question.
I placed the tray on the table.
"I'm fine."
He watched me carefully.
"No, you're not."
I looked away.
"You don't know me well enough to say that."
A strange expression crossed his face.
Almost sadness.
"Actually, Emily..."
He paused.
"I know more about you than you think."
My heart stopped.
"What does that mean?"
For a moment, neither of us spoke.
The room suddenly felt smaller.
Then Adrian looked toward the window.
"Nothing."
I hated that answer.
Because people only said "nothing" when there was something they didn't want to reveal.
I continued my work.
I helped him with his medication.
I prepared his breakfast.
I acted normal.
But inside, my mind was screaming.
How did Adrian know me?
Why was my father's photograph hidden with his?
And why did someone send me that message?
By noon, I couldn't take it anymore.
I found Adrian in his private office.
The room was filled with expensive furniture and shelves of old books.
He was reviewing documents on his computer.
When he saw me standing at the door, he immediately closed the screen.
That small movement told me everything.
He was hiding something.
"Emily."
His voice became colder.
"Is there a problem?"
I walked inside.
"Who was my father?"
The question hit him harder than I expected.
His fingers stopped moving.
For several seconds, Adrian said nothing.
Then he slowly looked at me.
"Why are you asking me that?"
"Because you knew him."
His expression changed.
Only slightly.
But I saw it.
Fear.
"You saw something."
It wasn't a question.
I reached into my pocket and pulled out the photograph.
The one I found in my mother's box.
I placed it on his desk.
Adrian looked down.
The color disappeared from his face.
"Where did you get this?"
"My mother kept it."
His eyes stayed on the picture.
"You shouldn't have found this."
My stomach tightened.
"Why?"
He didn't answer.
"Why shouldn't I have found it?"
Adrian looked away.
"Because your father wanted you to forget."
I stepped closer.
"My father disappeared."
Adrian remained silent.
"Everyone told me he died."
Still nothing.
I felt anger rising.
"You know what happened, don't you?"
His jaw tightened.
For the first time since I met him, the billionaire looked vulnerable.
Not weak.
Afraid.
"Emily..."
The way he said my name made my skin crawl.
Like he had said it before.
Like he had known me long before I walked into his house.
"How do you know my name?"
Silence.
A terrible silence.
Then Adrian whispered:
"Because your father showed me your picture."
My heart dropped.
"When?"
"Years ago."
"Why?"
He looked at me.
"Because he knew someone was coming for you."
I froze.
Someone.
Coming for me.
Those words felt impossible.
"My father was a mechanic."
Adrian shook his head.
"No."
I stared at him.
"He wasn't."
The room felt cold.
"Then who was he?"
Adrian looked toward the locked cabinet behind his desk.
"The man your father worked for destroyed many lives."
I followed his eyes.
"What was inside that cabinet?"
He didn't answer.
Instead, he changed the subject.
"You need to leave this house."
I couldn't believe what I heard.
"What?"
"You heard me."
"Why?"
"Because if someone sent you that message, they know you are here."
My blood went cold.
"Who knows?"
Adrian looked at me.
And the fear in his eyes told me he already knew the answer.
"People who thought the past was buried."
I wanted answers.
More than anything.
But before I could ask another question, the office door suddenly opened.
Victoria stood there.
Her face was pale.
"Mr. Blackwood."
Adrian immediately turned.
"What happened?"
She looked at me.
Then back at him.
"We found something."
Adrian's expression changed.
"What?"
Victoria slowly walked forward and placed a small envelope on his desk.
My name was written on the front.
Emily Carter.
My hands went cold.
"Where did you get that?"
Victoria hesitated.
"Someone left it at the front gate."
I looked at Adrian.
He looked more frightened than I had ever seen him.
I picked up the envelope.
It was old.
The paper was yellow.
Like it had been waiting years to be opened.
"Open it," Adrian whispered.
I looked at him.
"You know what's inside?"
He didn't answer.
That was enough.
I opened the envelope.
Inside was a single piece of paper.
Only one sentence was written.
My father's handwriting.
I knew it immediately.
"Emily, if Adrian Blackwood is still alive, then he failed to protect you."
My hands started shaking.
I looked at Adrian.
"What does this mean?"
He didn't respond.
Because he wasn't looking at the letter.
He was looking behind me.
At the security monitor on the wall.
The screen showed the front gate camera.
A person was standing outside.
Waiting.
Adrian slowly whispered:
"No..."
I turned toward the screen.
The person lifted their face toward the camera.
May you like
And Adrian said the name I never expected to hear.
"Your father."
