“He changed his will.”
I swallowed.
“To me?”
“To you.”
My heart
pounded.
“But why?”
Richard looked at me for a long moment.
“Because your grandfather had been watching you.”
I almost laughed.
“Watching me?”
“Yes.”
“For seventeen years?”
“Yes.”
“Then why didn’t he ever contact me?”
Richard’s face changed.
“He tried.”
I went still.
“What do you mean?”
“Letters were sent.”
“How many?”
“Thirty-two.”
My mouth went dry.
“Thirty-two?”
“Birthday cards. Christmas letters. Photographs. Invitations.”
I stared at him.
“I never received any.”
“I know.”
Richard opened his briefcase again and pulled out a file.
Inside were copies of envelopes.
All addressed to me.
Nathan Brooks.
My childhood address.
My school address.
Even my name written in handwriting that looked strangely familiar.
“I don’t understand.”
Richard placed the file on the hood of my car.
“Your grandfather hired a private investigator six years ago.”
“Why?”
“To find out why you never answered.”
I looked at him.
“And what did he discover?”
Richard hesitated.
“Your father had been intercepting the mail.”
Silence.
The alley suddenly felt too small.
“My father?”
“Yes.”
I shook my head.
“No.”
Richard didn’t argue.
He simply opened another folder.
Inside were photographs.
My father standing at a mailbox.
My father carrying envelopes into the house.
My father shredding papers.
My father throwing something into a trash bin.
The dates were printed beneath every photograph.
Six years ago.
Five years ago.
Four years ago.
Three.
Two.
One.
My hands began to tremble.
“He knew,” I whispered.
“He knew your grandfather was trying to reach you.”
Richard nodded.
“And he made sure you never knew.”
I looked away.
For eighteen years, I had believed my grandfather had abandoned us.
I had spent birthdays wondering why I had no grandparents.
I had told myself maybe he didn’t want me.
Maybe he didn’t care.
Maybe I wasn’t worth finding.
But the
truth was worse.
Someone had made sure I believed I wasn’t worth finding.
My father.
I swallowed hard.
“So what’s the condition?”
Richard took a deep breath.
“Your grandfather didn’t want you to simply inherit his fortune.”
“What did he want?”
“He wanted you to understand what you were inheriting.”
I frowned.
Richard handed me another document.
It was the final page of the will.
I read the first paragraph.
Then the second.
Then the third.
My heart began racing.
