Chapter 9 - The Blue Box
The blue box had been missing for six years.
Mara remembered buying it at a flea market when she was twenty-six.
It was small.
Metal.
Painted blue.
She kept letters, photographs, and important documents inside.
Until the night she disappeared.
Then it vanished.
"I thought your grandfather took it," she said.
"My grandfather thought you had it."
We drove to Mara's old house.
The house had been empty since she left.
The key fit the front door.
Inside, everything was covered in dust.
Mara walked slowly through the rooms.
"This was our home."
I looked around.
I remembered cooking here.
Dancing with her in the kitchen.
Falling asleep on the couch.
Planning a future that never happened.
Then I saw a child's drawing on the refrigerator.
Four stick figures.
A woman.
A man.
Four boys.
Underneath, written in childish letters:
MY FAMILY.
I touched it.
"Who drew this?"
"Noah."
"When?"
"Last year."
My throat tightened.
I had missed everything.
First words.
First steps.
First drawings.
First lost teeth.
I had missed six years because my family had decided I wasn't allowed to know I was a father.
Mara opened a closet.
There was nothing inside.
Then she noticed a loose floorboard.
She pulled it up.
The blue box was underneath.
Her hands shook.
She unlocked it.
Inside were dozens of documents.
Photographs.
A flash drive.
And one envelope.
My name was written across it.
ADRIAN.
I opened it.
My mother's handwriting.
My heart stopped.
My son,
If you are reading this, then they failed to keep you away from the truth.
I sat down.
Mara stood beside me.
I continued.
Your father is not Richard.
Daniel Cross is your biological father.
I already knew.
Then I read the next paragraph.
But there is another secret.
My hands trembled.
Daniel did not die.
I helped him disappear.
I looked at Mara.
She stared back.
I continued.
Your grandfather ordered his death after discovering that Daniel had evidence of the Whitmore crimes. I could not save him publicly, so I helped him disappear.
Then:
If you ever find the blue box, look at the flash drive.
I inserted it into my laptop.
A video opened.
My mother appeared on screen.
Older.
Tired.
Frightened.
She looked directly into the camera.
"Adrian."
I stopped breathing.
"If you're watching this, I need you to listen carefully."
She paused.
"Your grandfather believes he controls everything."
A sad smile.
"He doesn't."
She leaned closer.
"The Whitmore trust contains a secret clause."
I looked at Mara.
My mother continued.
"The first male descendant born from my bloodline inherits everything."
My pulse quickened.
"But there is a second clause."
She lowered her voice.
"If more than one male descendant exists, the inheritance is divided."
I understood.
The four boys.
My family had hidden them because four heirs would destroy the concentration of power.
But then my mother said something that made my blood freeze.
"That's why your father chose one child."
I stared at the screen.
"He planned to claim one of your sons legally."
Mara whispered:
"Richard."
I nodded.
My mother continued.
"Adrian, there is something you must understand."
Her eyes filled with tears.
"One of the boys was born from a different father."
Mara's face went white.
I stared at the screen.
"Not Daniel."
My mother's voice cracked.
"Not you."
The video ended.
Silence.
Mara sat down.
"No."
I looked at her.
"You didn't know?"
She shook her head.
"I thought they were all yours."
"Or Daniel's?"
"Yes."
"But one isn't."
She covered her face.
"Who?"
I didn't know.
Then we heard footsteps outside.
Someone was approaching.
I grabbed the box.
Mara turned off the lights.
We waited.
The door opened.
A man stepped inside.
I recognized him.
Sloane's father.
Edward Barrett.
He looked around.
Then he called out:
"Adrian."
I stepped into the hallway.
"What are you doing here?"
He sighed.
"I came to warn you."
"About what?"
"Your grandfather."
I stared at him.
"He sent you?"
"No."
He looked toward the blue box.
"Your grandfather doesn't know I'm here."
"Then why?"
Edward swallowed.
"Because Sloane is in danger."
My stomach dropped.
"What happened?"
"She found out what your family did."
"How?"
"Because I told her."
I stared at him.
He looked exhausted.
"I knew about the trust."
"How long?"
"Twenty years."
"And you still let us get engaged?"
"I thought it would protect her."
"From what?"
He looked at me.
"From the same people who killed your mother."
The room went silent.
Then his phone rang.
He answered.
His face changed.
"What?"
He listened.
Then whispered:
"She's gone."
I stepped closer.
"Who?"
"Sloane."
My blood ran cold.
"Who took her?"
May you like
Edward looked directly at me.
"Your grandfather."
