Chapter 4 - The Name I Was Forced To Forget
The name on the back of the photograph made my hands go cold.
I stared at it for several seconds.
Long enough that Adrian noticed.
"Clara."
I didn't answer.
Because I knew that name.
I knew it before my mind even accepted it.
Before I wanted to accept it.
The handwriting was old.
The ink was faded.
But the name was impossible to mistake.
"Thomas Bennett."
My father.
The man I had been told died when I was eight years old.
The man whose face had slowly disappeared from my memories.
The man everyone told me never mattered.
I looked at Adrian.
"Where did you get this?"
His expression was serious.
"From someone who has been looking for you."
My heart tightened.
"Why would anyone be looking for me?"
Adrian didn't respond immediately.
That was the problem with him.
When he was protecting me, he thought silence was kindness.
But sometimes silence hurt more than the truth.
"Adrian."
He exhaled.
"Six months ago, I received information about a company trying to locate you."
"What company?"
He walked toward his desk and pulled out another file.
"This."
I opened it.
The documents were filled with names.
Companies.
Transactions.
Private investigations.
My eyes moved across the pages until one name stood out.
Vale Holdings.
Marcus Vale.
I looked up.
"Marcus?"
Adrian nodded.
"He's not just a wealthy businessman."
The room became quieter.
"He's connected to something much bigger."
I looked back at the file.
"Then why would he care about me?"
Adrian didn't answer.
And that scared me.
Because I knew that meant the answer was something I wasn't ready for.
"Tell me."
He sat down.
For the first time since I had met him, Adrian looked tired.
Not physically.
Emotionally.
"Your father wasn't just an ordinary businessman, Clara."
I frowned.
"My father repaired cars."
"That's what you were told."
The words hit me.
"What does that mean?"
Adrian looked at the photograph.
"Your father worked with financial records."
I shook my head.
"No."
"Clara."
"No."
My voice became louder.
"My father was a mechanic. He worked at a small garage. He hated suits. He hated offices."
Adrian didn't argue.
Instead, he opened another document.
Inside was an old newspaper article.
The picture was blurry.
But the man in the photo was unmistakable.
My father.
Standing beside a group of executives.
Wearing a suit.
Not covered in oil.
Not holding tools.
A suit.
I stepped back.
"This isn't real."
Adrian stood.
"It is."
"Who are those people?"
He looked at me.
"The people your father discovered were stealing millions of dollars."
I stared at him.
"And?"
"And he kept evidence."
My breathing slowed.
"What evidence?"
Adrian looked away.
"Evidence that could destroy powerful people."
Suddenly, the events of the last few days connected.
The photographs.
The surveillance.
Marcus.
The humiliation.
It wasn't random.
Someone wanted me scared.
Someone wanted me isolated.
Someone wanted me to disappear.
"Why did nobody tell me?"
Adrian's expression changed.
"Because someone made sure you never knew."
I felt anger rising.
"Who?"
He didn't answer.
Again.
I hated that.
I hated feeling like everyone had information about my own life except me.
"Adrian, I am done being protected from the truth."
He looked at me.
"I know."
"Do you?"
My voice cracked.
"Because everyone keeps deciding what I can handle."
A long silence followed.
Then Adrian walked closer.
"I was afraid."
That surprised me.
Adrian Blackwood admitting fear was something I never expected.
"Of what?"
"Of losing you."
The anger inside me softened.
Only slightly.
He continued.
"When I found out someone was searching for you, I thought they wanted the information your father had."
He paused.
"But then I discovered something worse."
"What?"
His eyes met mine.
"They weren't searching for your father's evidence."
A pause.
"They were searching for you."
The room felt smaller.
"Why?"
Adrian didn't answer.
Instead, he picked up his phone.
He pressed a button.
"Bring him in."
My stomach tightened.
"Who?"
Five minutes later, the elevator doors opened.
A man walked into Adrian's office.
He looked older.
Late fifties.
Gray hair.
A scar across his eyebrow.
I didn't recognize him.
But the moment he saw me, his face changed.
Like he had been waiting years for this moment.
"Clara."
I froze.
Nobody called my name like that.
Not a stranger.
Not with that much emotion.
Adrian stepped between us.
"Tell her."
The man swallowed.
"I didn't think I would ever see you again."
I looked at Adrian.
"Who is he?"
The man answered before Adrian could.
"My name is Daniel Ross."
The name meant nothing.
Until he said the next words.
"I worked with your father."
My hands tightened.
"How?"
Daniel looked at the photograph.
"Because I was there the night he died."
The room went silent.
Everything stopped.
My entire life had been built around one sentence.
Your father died in an accident.
I had heard it thousands of times.
I had accepted it.
I had mourned a man I barely remembered.
But now a stranger was standing in front of me saying he knew the truth.
"What do you mean?"
Daniel looked down.
"He didn't die because of an accident."
My heart dropped.
Adrian watched me carefully.
"Clara..."
I ignored him.
I looked at Daniel.
"What happened to my father?"
Daniel hesitated.
Then he reached into his coat.
He pulled out a small envelope.
Old.
Yellowed.
Worn from years of being hidden.
"I was supposed to give this to you when you turned twenty-five."
I stared at it.
"Why didn't you?"
His eyes filled with regret.
"Because the person who gave me this was killed before I could."
I couldn't move.
"Who gave it to you?"
Daniel looked at Adrian.
Then back at me.
"Your father."
My fingers touched the envelope.
It felt impossible.
Like touching a piece of a life I had lost.
I opened it slowly.
Inside was a single page.
Only a few words.
But the handwriting was unmistakable.
My father's handwriting.
My eyes moved across the paper.
And then I saw the final sentence.
"Clara, if you are reading this, it means they finally found you."
I stopped breathing.
Adrian stepped closer.
"What does it say?"
I couldn't answer.
Because beneath my father's warning was another name.
A name I had never expected.
A name that changed everything.
I turned the page over.
May you like
And there was a second message written underneath.
"Do not trust the man who saved you."
