Chapter 3 - My Brother’s SecretI moved Mom and Noah before midnight.
The photograph changed everything.
Someone had followed us.
My father knew.
I drove to a small guesthouse owned by my oldest friend, Marcus Reed.
Marcus asked one question.
“Are you in trouble?”
“Yes.”
He handed me the keys.
“Then nobody knows you’re here.”
Noah fell asleep almost immediately.
Mom didn’t.
Neither did I.
At six the next morning, I called my brother.
“Andrew.”
He groaned.
“Daniel? Do you know what time it is?”
“Meet me at the office.”
“Dad is furious about last night.”
“I don’t care.”
Silence.
That got his attention.
“What happened?”
“Office. Seven.”
I hung up.
Mom caught my sleeve as I left.
“Don’t trust him just because he’s your brother.”
I stared at her.
“Do you know Andrew?”
She hesitated.
“I know Victor raised him.”
Andrew was born seven years after Mom vanished.
His mother had been my father’s second wife, Caroline.
She died when Andrew was twelve.
“What are you saying?”
“I’m saying fear can turn good people into obedient people.”
At seven, Andrew walked into my office wearing yesterday’s suit.
“You look terrible.”
“Sit.”
“Good morning to you too.”
I placed the photograph from the hotel on my desk.
His expression changed.
“What is that?”
“You tell me.”
Andrew picked it up.
His eyes narrowed.
“Who’s the woman?”
“My mother.”
He laughed.
Then he saw my face.
“You’re serious.”
“She’s alive.”
Andrew slowly lowered himself into the chair.
“That’s impossible.”
“Why?”
“Dad said—”
“Exactly.”
I placed the locket in front of him.
Andrew touched it.
“Daniel…”
“He staged a funeral.”
“That’s insane.”
“He had her falsely committed. He used medical reports to destroy her custody case.”
Andrew shook his head.
“No.”
“Stop saying no because you don’t want it to be true.”
He stood.
“You’re accusing our father of—what? Kidnapping? Fraud?”
“Among other things.”
Andrew paced toward the window.
“Where is she?”
“Safe.”
“Does Dad know?”
“Someone does.”
I tapped the photograph.
Andrew turned pale.
I noticed.
“What?”
“Nothing.”
“That wasn’t nothing.”
He looked away.
I stepped toward him.
“Andrew.”
“Dad asked where you went last night.”
“And?”
“I told him I didn’t know.”
“That scared you?”
He rubbed his face.
“No.”
“Then what?”
He stared at me for several seconds.
Finally, he walked to my office door.
Locked it.
Then he returned.
“When I was nineteen, I got a letter.”
I felt my pulse jump.
“What letter?”
“It was addressed to you.”
“Why did you have it?”
“It came to the house.”
His voice became quieter.
“You had already moved out.”
“Who sent it?”
Andrew looked at me.
“Margaret Hayes.”
My mother.
I grabbed the edge of my desk.
“What did you do with it?”
“I gave it to Dad.”
“You what?”
“I thought it was a sick joke.”
“Andrew!”
“I was nineteen!”
His voice rose.
“Dad spent my entire childhood telling me your mother had died.”
“What did he do with the letter?”
“He burned it.”
The room went silent.
“You watched him?”
“Yes.”
“Did he say anything?”
Andrew swallowed.
“He said, ‘Some ghosts need to stay buried.’”
My skin went cold.
“And you never told me?”
“I thought it was someone trying to extort the family.”
I turned away.
“Daniel, I’m sorry.”
“You should have told me.”
“I know.”
“You let him burn a letter from my mother.”
“I didn’t know!”
I spun around.
“She was alive!”
Andrew flinched.
I saw something in his face then.
Not guilt.
Something else.
“What aren’t you telling me?”
His eyes dropped.
“Andrew.”
“There was another letter.”
My heart pounded.
“When?”
“Five years ago.”
I stared at him.
“What?”
“It came directly to me.”
“From Mom?”
“I think so.”
“You think?”
“There was no return address.”
“What did it say?”
Andrew sat down.
“She said Victor Hayes was not the man we believed he was.”
I felt anger rising.
“She asked me to give you a message.”
“What message?”
Andrew hesitated.
I stepped closer.
“What did my mother ask you to tell me?”
“She said to ask Dad about Bennett Supply.”
I froze.
Bennett.
My grandfather’s surname.
“What is Bennett Supply?”
“I don’t know.”
“Find out.”
Andrew shook his head.
“Dad controls the old vendor archive.”
“You’re chief financial officer.”
“And he’s chairman.”
I leaned over the desk.
“Then decide which title matters more.”
He looked at me.
“What?”
“CFO.”
I pointed toward the door.
“Or son.”
His jaw tightened.
“You think I’m like him?”
“I don’t know what you are yet.”
That hurt him.
I could see it.
Good.
Because I was hurting too.
Andrew walked to the door.
Then stopped.
“There’s something else.”
I waited.
“Dad came into my office this morning.”
“What did he want?”
“He asked whether you had accessed the company archives.”
“And?”
“I said no.”
Andrew looked back at me.
“He told me if you asked for anything from before 1996, I was supposed to call him first.”
That was enough.
“Bennett Supply?”
Andrew nodded slowly.
“Started doing business with Hayes Manufacturing in 1993.”
The exact year my mother disappeared.
We went downstairs.
The archive room was in the basement.
Andrew used his executive badge.
The door beeped red.
He tried again.
Red.
“My access worked yesterday.”
I looked at the small security camera above us.
“We’re being watched.”
Andrew stepped closer to the keypad.
Then his phone rang.
DAD.
He stared at the screen.
“Answer it.”
He hesitated.
Then did.
“Hi, Dad.”
My father’s voice was loud enough for me to hear.
“Why are you in the basement?”
Andrew’s eyes met mine.
I looked at the camera.
Father continued.
“Andrew?”
“I needed an old file.”
“No, you didn’t.”
A chill moved down my back.
“Come upstairs.”
Andrew swallowed.
“Dad—”
“Now.”
The call ended.
We didn’t move.
Then the elevator at the end of the corridor chimed.
The doors opened.
My father stepped out.
Two security guards stood behind him.
Victor Hayes looked from Andrew to me.
Then he smiled.
“Daniel.”
May you like
His eyes hardened.
“I hear you found your mother.”
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