Chapter 5 - The Man My Father ChoseI left the Whitmore house without answering.
I barely remembered the drive back to the hotel.
The question kept repeating in my mind.
Why did Dad choose Julian?
I called Catherine.
“He knew him.”
“I know.”
“How?”
“Business.”
“Is that all?”
She went silent.
“Catherine.”
“He met Julian eight years ago.”
Eight years.
I sank onto the edge of the bed.
“I was eighteen.”
“Yes.”
“Was Julian already involved with my family?”
“Not directly.”
“Then what was he doing?”
“Working for a company your father was investigating.”
My chest tightened.
“What company?”
Catherine hesitated.
“Blackstone Advisory.”
I knew the name.
It had once been a small consulting firm.
Now it controlled several major investment holdings.
“Why was Dad investigating them?”
“Money laundering. Shell corporations. Asset stripping.”
I stood.
“And Julian?”
“He was their financial analyst.”
My world shifted.
Julian had told me he had built his career from nothing.
He had said my father had admired his ambition.
Maybe he had.
Maybe that was the trap.
Catherine continued.
“Your father discovered Blackstone was moving money through several companies.”
“Was Grant Meridian one of them?”
“No.”
“Then why did Julian approach me?”
“I don't know.”
I stared at the wall.
Something did not fit.
Then I remembered the first time Julian had met me.
It had been at a charity gala.
He had spilled champagne on my dress.
He had apologized.
Then he had smiled.
“I’m sorry,” he had said. “You look like someone I should have met years ago.”
At the time, I thought it was flirting.
Now it sounded rehearsed.
My phone buzzed.
A photograph.
No sender.
I opened it.
It showed Julian standing beside my father.
They were outside a courthouse.
The date was eight years earlier.
I zoomed in.
My father was holding a folder.
Julian was holding a black briefcase.
And behind them stood Victoria.
I whispered, “What were you doing together?”
Another photograph appeared.
Julian and Victoria entering my father’s office.
Then another.
My mother crying in the background.
And then the final image.
My father speaking angrily to Julian.
The caption underneath said:
The night everything changed.
I called the number.
No answer.
Then the phone rang.
A distorted male voice spoke.
“You’re getting close.”
“Who are you?”
“The person your father trusted.”
“Tell me what happened.”
“He found out Julian wasn’t working alone.”
“With who?”
The line went silent for several seconds.
Then the voice whispered:
“Your husband.”
I swallowed.
“What does that mean?”
“It means the woman who raised him is not the person who made him.”
My heart stopped.
“What?”
The call ended.
I stared at the phone.
A second later, a new message arrived.
Come to the old Grant warehouse at midnight. Come alone.
I should have ignored it.
Instead, I grabbed my coat.
Because there was one question I could no longer silence.
May you like
Who was Julian before he met me?
And why had my father been afraid of him?
