Chapter 14 - The Woman in the PhotographWe left through the underground garage.

Richard drove.

Cole sat beside me.

Melissa was in the back.

No one spoke.

I couldn't stop thinking about one thing.

My mother was alive.

After sixteen years.

I had spent my entire childhood believing she was buried somewhere in a cemetery.

Every birthday.

Every Christmas.

Every time I looked at another family.

She had been alive.

Where?

Richard took us to a private airfield.

A small plane waited.

During the flight, he finally spoke.

“Your mother was moved between safe houses.”

“By my grandfather?”

“Yes.”

“Why hide her from me?”

“Because you were the leverage.”

I looked out the window.

“That doesn't make sense.”

“Victor threatened to kill you.”

“He already thought she was dead.”

“He needed to believe she was dead.”

Richard opened a folder.

Inside was a photograph.

My mother.

Older now.

Silver in her hair.

But unmistakably her.

I touched the image.

“Where is she?”

“California.”

I stared at him.

“How long have you known?”

“Sixteen years.”

I wanted to hit him.

Instead I asked,

“Did my father know?”

Richard looked down.

“Yes.”

My stomach twisted.

“He visited her once.”

“When?”

“After you were seven.”

“Why didn't he tell me?”

“Because your mother begged him not to.”

“Why?”

“Because she believed telling you would get you killed.”

We landed just before sunset.

The house was small.

Nothing like Blackwood.

A modest white home near the coast.

Richard knocked.

Nobody answered.

He knocked again.

Then the door opened.

A woman stood there.

She had lines around her eyes.

Silver threaded through her hair.

But her eyes were the same.

My eyes.

She looked at me.

Her lips parted.

And she whispered,

“Nathan?”

I forgot how to breathe.

I stepped forward.

“Mom?”

She covered her mouth.

Then she broke.

I had imagined this moment thousands of times.

In my imagination, she ran toward me.

In reality, she couldn't move.

Neither could I.

Then we crossed the room at the same time.

She wrapped her arms around me.

I felt her shaking.

I started crying.

Not the embarrassed crying from the backseat.

Not the silent tears from school.

This was sixteen years of everything.

Fear.

Anger.

Loneliness.

Relief.

She held my face.

“You're so tall.”

I laughed through tears.

“Not really.”

“You are to me.”

We spent hours talking.

Then she told me the final piece.

The truth behind the trust.

“The company wasn't the goal,” she said.

“Then what was?”

She looked at Richard.

He nodded.

My mother reached for a folder.

Inside was a document dated before my birth.

It named me as beneficiary of a secret foundation.

Not forty-two million.

Not one hundred million.

Something larger.

An international network of assets.

Property.

Investments.

Companies.

And a list of names.

People my grandfather had been investigating.

At the bottom was one instruction.

Nathan Brooks shall control the foundation upon reaching eighteen.

I looked at my mother.

“Why me?”

“Because you were the only person they could never predict.”

I frowned.

“What does that mean?”

She looked toward the window.

“Your grandfather knew someone inside the family was working with the enemy.”

“Who?”

My mother said nothing.

Richard did.

“Your grandfather believed there was one final traitor.”

“Who?”

Richard looked at the document.

Then at me.

“It was the person who knew exactly where you were every night.”

My blood went cold.

I understood.

The gas stations.

The parking lots.

The school.

The restaurants.

Someone had been tracking me before Richard found me.

I looked at my mother.

She closed her eyes.

“Nathan.”

“What?”

“Your stepbrother wasn't the one who betrayed you.”

Cole stepped forward.

“What?”

My mother looked at him.

“You've been protecting Nathan for years.”

Cole began shaking his head.

“I don't know what you're talking about.”

My mother turned toward me.

“The person who stole your money.”

“The person who forged the trust instructions.”

“The person who told Victor where to find you.”

She whispered the name.

And I nearly stopped breathing.

Because it wasn't Melissa.

It wasn't Victor.

It wasn't my father.

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It was someone I had trusted more than anyone.

Someone who had been beside me every single day.