Chapter 4
I stared at the photograph until my hands began shaking.
Jonathan Reed stood outside a modern glass office building.
He was carrying a briefcase.
His head was turned slightly toward the street.
He had no idea someone was photographing him.
And now that photograph was sitting on my phone.
Arthur took the device carefully.
"Marcus, don't respond."
I swallowed.
"Who would do this?"
He shook his head.
"I don't know."
Maya looked toward the gala entrance.
"Mom?"
Arthur's expression hardened.
"Possibly. But we can't assume."
I wanted to believe Diane was capable of almost anything.
She'd humiliated me.
Lied about my father.
Hidden my inheritance.
But watching someone in another state?
Threatening to keep us apart?
That felt different.
More organized.
More frightening.
Arthur drove us to his home.
It was a beautiful brick house in a quiet Atlanta neighborhood.
I'd visited a few times as a child.
But tonight, it felt like a refuge.
Maya made tea while Arthur called his attorney.
I sat at the kitchen table, staring at Jonathan's photograph.
Finally, I called him.
He answered immediately.
"Marcus?"
I swallowed.
"Are you home?"
"Yes. Why?"
"Did anyone approach you today?"
He sounded confused.
"No."
"Did you notice someone taking pictures?"
A pause.
"Marcus, what's wrong?"
I took a breath.
Then I told him about the messages.
He remained silent while I spoke.
When I finished, his voice became serious.
"Send me the photographs."
I did.
He examined them.
Then he said, "I recognize the location."
My stomach tightened.
"Your office?"
"Yes."
"Do you recognize the photographer?"
"No."
He hesitated.
"But something strange happened last week."
I sat straighter.
"What?"
"A woman called my office asking about my personal records."
My heart raced.
"What woman?"
"She claimed to represent a family legal office in Atlanta."
Arthur looked up.
I put the call on speaker.
Jonathan continued.
"She asked whether I'd ever signed a parental acknowledgment document."
Arthur's expression changed.
"Jonathan, did you?"
"No."
He sounded confused.
"I told her I didn't know what she meant."
Arthur leaned forward.
"Did she give her name?"
"Patricia Wells."
Arthur went completely still.
I noticed immediately.
"Uncle Arthur?"
He stared at the phone.
"Patricia Wells used to work for Bennett Legacy Holdings."
Maya frowned.
"Mom fired her three years ago."
Arthur nodded slowly.
"That's what Diane claimed."
My stomach tightened.
"Who is she?"
Arthur looked at me.
"She managed corporate records and family trust administration."
I felt sick.
Another person connected to the money.
Another person who might have known about my existence.
Jonathan spoke again.
"Marcus, listen carefully. I don't want you putting yourself in danger trying to find answers."
I looked at the phone.
"But somebody's threatening you."
"I know. I'll report it and take precautions."
His voice softened.
"And I still intend to see you tomorrow."
I felt tears rise.
"Even after this?"
"Especially after this."
I closed my eyes.
For nineteen years, I'd believed my father didn't care whether I existed.
Now he was refusing to let threats keep him away.
"Okay."
After the call, Arthur contacted a private attorney named Evelyn Brooks.
She specialized in estate disputes and financial misconduct.
She arrived the following morning carrying a laptop and two thick folders.
I liked her immediately.
She was direct.
Calm.
And she didn't treat me like a child.
"Marcus, you're legally an adult," she said. "That means you have the right to understand and participate in decisions involving your interests."
I nodded.
"Good."
She reviewed the trust documents.
Then the threatening messages.
Her expression grew serious.
"First, we need to preserve everything."
Arthur nodded.
"Already done."
"Second, we need an independent accounting of the trust."
I leaned forward.
"Can we recover the money?"
"Possibly. But we need to establish which transfers were authorized and where the funds went."
I swallowed.
"And my mother?"
Evelyn looked at me.
"If she participated in improper transactions, she may face legal consequences."
I stared at the table.
For years, I'd wanted Mom to be held accountable for hurting me.
But hearing that she might face criminal investigation made my stomach tighten.
She was still my mother.
I hated what she'd done.
I didn't know whether I could forgive her.
But I didn't want to enjoy her suffering.
Evelyn continued.
"We also need to verify the records concerning Jonathan Reed."
I looked up.
"Why?"
"Because the documents Arthur found are significant, but we'll want independent confirmation before making legal decisions."
Arthur nodded.
"That's reasonable."
Evelyn studied the birth record.
Then she frowned.
"Arthur, where did you obtain this?"
"From Elijah's estate files."
"Who maintained those files?"
Arthur hesitated.
"Patricia Wells."
My stomach dropped.
The same woman who had contacted Jonathan.
Evelyn looked toward Arthur.
"Then we need to examine the document history carefully."
I felt panic rising.
"What are you saying?"
She turned toward me.
"I'm not saying the documents are false. I'm saying we should verify them."
I looked at the photograph of Jonathan.
The same eyes.
The same face.
The same interests.
I wanted so desperately for him to be my father.
What if someone was manipulating me again?
What if this was another lie?
Arthur noticed my expression.
"Marcus, your grandfather personally told me about Jonathan before he died."
I looked up.
"He did?"
Arthur nodded.
"He asked me to find the truth."
I swallowed.
"Why didn't you tell me sooner?"
His eyes filled.
"Because I failed to act quickly enough."
The honesty surprised me.
He continued.
"I was afraid of dividing the family. I kept hoping Diane would tell you herself."
I stared at him.
"You waited seven years?"
Arthur lowered his head.
"Yes."
I felt anger rise.
"You knew?"
"Not everything. But enough to know you deserved answers."
I stood.
"Then you lied too."
Arthur didn't defend himself.
"Yes."
The room went silent.
I looked around.
Every adult in my life seemed to have known something about me that I didn't.
My mother.
My grandfather.
Arthur.
And now Patricia Wells.
I felt like a stranger in my own life.
"I need some air."
Maya stood.
"Marcus—"
"Please."
I walked outside.
I sat on the porch steps.
For several minutes, I stared at the street.
Then Maya came out.
She sat beside me without speaking.
Finally, I whispered, "Does everyone know something about me except me?"
She shook her head.
"I didn't."
I looked at her.
"Promise?"
She met my eyes.
"I promise."
I believed her.
Maya had always been the one person in our family who never made me question whether I mattered.
She leaned against me.
"Whatever happens, you're my brother."
I swallowed.
"Even if Jonathan isn't my father?"
She nodded.
"Even then."
I closed my eyes.
Then my phone rang.
An unfamiliar California number.
I answered.
"Hello?"
A woman's voice spoke.
"Is this Marcus Bennett?"
"Yes."
"My name is Dr. Allison Reed."
I froze.
"Reed?"
"Yes."
She hesitated.
"I'm Jonathan's sister."
My heart raced.
"What do you want?"
Her voice trembled.
"Marcus, there's something you need to know before Jonathan comes to Atlanta."
I stood.
"What?"
She took a shaky breath.
"Your father has been searching for a child for years."
I stopped breathing.
"What child?"
May you like
She whispered, "A son Diane told him had died."
And suddenly, the story I'd believed was already terrible became something far worse.
