CHAPTER 3 — THE SON WHO WAS NEVER SUPPOSED TO EXIST
CHAPTER 3 — THE SON WHO WAS NEVER SUPPOSED TO EXIST
The city never truly slept.
From the top floor of the Beaumont Hotel, Richard Vance watched thousands of lights flicker below him like tiny stars trapped beneath glass.
For most people, the view represented success.
Power.
A life most could only imagine.
But Richard no longer saw a city.
He saw fifteen years of lies.
Fifteen years of silence.
Fifteen years of convincing himself that some truths were better left buried.
Behind him, Eleanor stood beside the desk, holding the old envelope.
She had spent three decades protecting Richard Vance.
She had defended him when people questioned his decisions.
She had stood beside him when competitors tried to destroy his company.
She had helped build the empire everyone admired.
But tonight, she realized something terrifying.
She might have been protecting a man who was hiding the biggest secret of his life.
"Tell me everything," Eleanor said.
Richard didn't turn around.
"There are things you don't understand."
Her expression hardened.
"Then explain them."
A long silence followed.
Finally, Richard walked back to the desk.
He looked at the envelope.
Then at Eleanor.
"Fifteen years ago, Catherine discovered she was pregnant."
Eleanor remained still.
"She didn't tell me at first."
"Why?"
Richard laughed softly.
Not because anything was funny.
Because some memories hurt too much to touch.
"Because by then, she didn't trust me anymore."
The words landed heavily.
Eleanor had known Catherine.
Not well.
But enough.
Catherine Vance had been brilliant.
Independent.
A woman who never needed anyone's approval.
If she stopped trusting Richard, there had to be a reason.
"What happened between you two?" Eleanor asked.
Richard looked down.
"I chose the company over my family."
A rare admission.
From Richard Vance.
The man who never admitted weakness.
"Catherine wanted me to expose what my father had done."
Eleanor listened carefully.
"Your father?"
Richard nodded.
"Henry Vance built the foundation of this empire. Everyone called him a visionary."
He paused.
"But Catherine discovered he wasn't just building companies."
His voice became quieter.
"He was building a machine."
Fifteen years ago.
Before the newspapers knew.
Before the lawsuits.
Before the investigations.
Catherine Vance sat alone in the Vance family archive room.
She had spent weeks following financial records.
Hidden accounts.
Fake companies.
Payments to politicians.
Names of people who had disappeared after asking too many questions.
The deeper she looked...
The worse it became.
And at the center of everything was one name.
Henry Vance.
Richard's father.
But Catherine discovered something even more disturbing.
Richard knew.
Maybe not everything.
Maybe not from the beginning.
But he knew enough.
Enough to stop it.
Enough to expose it.
Enough to walk away.
And he didn't.
When Catherine confronted him, she expected anger.
She expected denial.
Instead, Richard sat silently.
And that silence broke something between them.
"You knew," Catherine whispered.
Richard looked away.
"I was trying to fix it."
"No."
Her voice trembled.
"You were trying to control it."
That was the moment their marriage ended.
Not legally.
Not publicly.
But emotionally.
They became two strangers living under the same roof.
Then Catherine disappeared.
"Where was she going?" Eleanor asked.
Richard looked at the floor.
"She was leaving."
"Leaving you?"
"Leaving everything."
He swallowed.
"She wanted to disappear with Marcus."
Eleanor looked at him.
"You knew his name?"
Richard nodded.
"I helped choose it."
The room became silent.
"Then why did you say you never met him?"
Richard's eyes closed.
"Because I never got the chance."
Across the city, Marcus sat inside a small apartment above an old mechanic shop.
The room was dark.
The only light came from his phone screen.
He had read the messages twenty times.
Each time, they made less sense.
He looked at the picture sitting beside him.
A photograph of his mother.
She was younger.
Smiling.
Standing beside a man whose face had been cut out.
Marcus had always thought it was an accident.
Now he wasn't sure.
He picked up the photo.
His fingers traced the torn edge.
"Who were you hiding from, Mom?"
The question disappeared into the empty room.
Then someone knocked.
Three slow knocks.
Marcus froze.
Nobody knew he was there.
The knocking came again.
Three times.
He moved quietly toward the door.
"Who is it?"
No answer.
Then a voice.
An older woman.
"Marcus."
His blood ran cold.
Because he recognized the voice.
It was the woman who had called him earlier.
Maya.
His sister.
He opened the door.
And immediately knew something was wrong.
Maya wasn't alone.
Standing behind her was a man Marcus had never seen before.
A man wearing an expensive coat.
A man with cold eyes.
"Marcus," Maya whispered.
"Meet your uncle."
The man stepped forward.
"Victor Vance."
Inside the Beaumont Hotel, Eleanor opened the envelope.
Richard immediately stood.
"No."
The word came out sharper than expected.
Eleanor looked at him.
"Why?"
Richard stared at the letter.
"Because once you read it..."
He stopped.
"What?"
Richard's face changed.
"Everything changes."
Eleanor carefully removed the folded paper.
The handwriting matched Richard's.
The date was yesterday.
But something was wrong.
The letter wasn't addressed to Marcus.
It wasn't addressed to Catherine.
It wasn't even addressed to Eleanor.
It was addressed to:
Victor Vance.
Eleanor looked up.
"Your brother?"
Richard's face went pale.
"That's impossible."
"Why?"
Richard stepped closer.
"Because Victor has been dead for twelve years."
The room went silent.
Eleanor looked back at the envelope.
A letter written yesterday.
Addressed to a dead man.
Carrying a family crest that should never have returned.
And delivered by a teenager who claimed Richard Vance was his father.
Then the phone on Richard's desk rang.
Both of them froze.
Nobody had this private number.
Richard slowly picked it up.
"Hello?"
At first, there was only silence.
Then a voice.
Distorted.
Cold.
Familiar.
"Richard."
His face changed.
Eleanor watched every emotion disappear.
Because the voice on the other end belonged to someone who should not exist.
"Victor?"
A quiet laugh came through the phone.
Then the voice whispered:
"You spent fifteen years hiding my nephew."
A pause.
"And now..."
The lights in Richard's office flickered.
"...he knows the truth."
The call ended.
Richard slowly lowered the phone.
Eleanor stared at him.
"Richard..."
He looked toward the window.
For the first time in thirty years, Eleanor saw fear in his eyes.
Not fear of losing money.
Not fear of losing power.
Fear of losing everything he had built on a lie.
Because somewhere in the city...
Victor Vance was alive.
May you like
And he had been waiting.
TO BE CONTINUED...
