Chapter 5: The Daughter of the Other Man
Preston arrived at Nyla's apartment the following morning.
He hadn't slept.
His shirt was wrinkled, his eyes were bloodshot, and the expensive watch he usually wore was missing.
Nyla opened the door but didn't invite him inside immediately.
"What do you want, Preston?""
He looked at her.
"Five minutes.""
"You had five years to tell me the truth about our marriage.""
"I know.""
"No, you don't.""
She started closing the door.
"Please.""
Something in his voice made her pause.
Not because she trusted him.
Because she had never heard him sound so small.
She stepped aside.
"Five minutes.""
Preston entered.
His eyes immediately fell on the photograph resting on the bookshelf.
Thomas Carter.
The man he had just learned was his biological father.
Nyla followed his gaze.
"That's my father.""
Preston approached the photograph.
"He looks familiar.""
"You probably saw him in old family pictures.""
"Did he know about me?""
Nyla folded her arms.
"That's what I wanted to ask you.""
Preston turned.
"What?""
"Did my father know he had a son?""
Preston shook his head.
"I don't know.""
Nyla gave a bitter smile.
"That's convenient.""
He sat down on the edge of the sofa.
"Your father died when I was young?""
"Yes. I was twenty-two.""
"What happened?""
Nyla hesitated.
Then she walked to the bookshelf and removed a small wooden box.
Inside were photographs, old letters, and a hospital bracelet.
"My father worked as a financial adviser for the Mitchell family. He knew Russell before I was born.""
Preston listened carefully.
"Thomas was married?""
"No. He and Margaret were engaged.""
Preston looked up sharply.
"What?""
Nyla pulled out a photograph.
It showed a younger Margaret standing beside Thomas at what appeared to be a family gathering.
"Your mother and my father were together before she married Russell.""
Preston stared at the picture.
"Why didn't she marry him?""
"According to my father, Russell threatened to ruin him professionally. He wanted Margaret, and he wanted the Mitchell family business. Thomas refused to fight him publicly.""
Nyla placed the photograph on the coffee table.
"Eventually, my father left Dallas for a few years. When he returned, Margaret was married to Russell and pregnant.""
Preston stared at the photograph.
"Me.""
Nyla nodded.
"Apparently.""
He covered his face.
For a moment, neither spoke.
Then Preston looked at her.
"Did you know all this when we were married?""
"No.""
"Did your father ever mention Margaret?""
"Once.""
"When?""
"After our wedding.""
Preston looked confused.
Nyla sat across from him.
"My father was already sick. He came to our house one Sunday afternoon. You were working. He saw the Mitchell family photograph above the fireplace.""
She remembered that afternoon clearly.
Thomas had stood in front of the photograph for almost a minute.
Then he had asked her whether Preston knew who his biological father was.
She had laughed, thinking it was a strange joke.
Her father hadn't laughed.
"He told me there were secrets in the Mitchell family that could hurt people who didn't deserve it.""
Preston looked down.
"Why didn't you tell me?""
"Because I thought he was talking about business.""
She paused.
"And because I trusted you.""
That last sentence hurt more than anything else.
Preston lowered his head.
"I was wrong about a lot of things.""
Nyla didn't respond.
He looked at the wooden box.
"Do you have anything else from your father?""
She reached inside and removed a sealed envelope.
It had been addressed to her.
The handwriting was unmistakably Thomas's.
"I found this after he died," she explained.
"I never opened it.""
"Why?""
"Because it was addressed to me. I thought it was personal.""
Preston looked at her.
"Would you open it now?""
Nyla hesitated.
Then she carefully broke the seal.
Inside was a short letter.
My darling Nyla,
There may come a day when the Mitchell family tries to make you believe that you are the reason their house is falling apart.
Don't believe them.
You were never the problem.
Your mother and I made mistakes, but I have never regretted having you. I only regret that the truth about the people around you may come out after I am gone.
If that happens, look for the blue ledger.
Your father, Thomas.
Nyla read the final line twice.
"The blue ledger?""
Preston leaned forward.
"Do you know what that is?""
She shook her head.
"No.""
Then she remembered something.
Her father had owned a small storage unit outside Dallas.
After his death, she had paid for it for several months, but eventually the rent became too expensive.
She had donated most of the belongings and kept only a few boxes.
One of those boxes was still in her closet.
Nyla stood.
"Wait here.""
She returned carrying a dusty cardboard box.
Inside were old tax returns, photographs, business cards, and several notebooks.
Preston helped her search.
After twenty minutes, he found something.
A blue leather ledger.
Its corners were worn.
The cover had a small silver inscription.
*MITCHELL FAMILY HOLDINGS — PRIVATE ACCOUNTS.*
Preston opened it.
The first pages contained financial records from more than thirty years earlier.
Then he found a handwritten entry.
A transfer.
A large sum of money.
Paid to Russell Mitchell.
And beneath it, in Thomas's handwriting, was a note.
Payment received for relinquishing parental rights and concealing paternity.
Preston went pale.
"How much?""
Nyla looked at the number.
"Two hundred thousand dollars.""
He turned another page.
There were several more payments.
Different dates.
Different amounts.
The last entry was dated just three months before Thomas died.
Preston looked at Nyla.
"My father paid your father to disappear?""
Nyla stared at the ledger.
"Apparently.""
Preston turned another page.
A folded photograph fell onto the floor.
He picked it up.
It showed Thomas standing beside a much younger Russell.
Between them was a woman holding a baby.
Margaret.
On the back, someone had written:
The day Russell promised to raise his son.
Preston's hands began shaking.
He looked at the photograph again.
Then he noticed something strange.
The baby wasn't wearing the hospital bracelet Margaret had described in her letter.
Instead, the bracelet had a different surname.
Carter.
Preston looked up.
"Why would my birth certificate say Mitchell?""
Nyla didn't answer.
Because the ledger had one more page.
And on that page was a document Preston had never seen before.
A signed agreement transferring the ownership of a substantial portion of the Mitchell family estate.
The beneficiary wasn't Russell.
It was Thomas Carter.
Preston read the document carefully.
Then he looked at Nyla.
"Your father didn't just disappear.""
Nyla's expression tightened.
"What are you saying?""
Preston pointed at the signature.
"He owned part of my family's company.""
Before either could say another word, Nyla's phone rang.
Aunt Denise.
Nyla answered.
"Hello?""
Denise was crying.
"Nyla, you need to listen carefully.""
"What happened?""
"Russell knows you have the ledger.""
Nyla looked at Preston.
"How?""
May you like
Denise whispered:
"Because he just called me and said he was coming to get it.""
