Chapter 7 - GRANDFATHER’S OFFER
Charles Whitmore lived on the top three floors of a building overlooking Central Park.
He was eighty-one.
Powerful men usually looked smaller when age caught them.
Charles didn’t.
He still carried himself like everyone in the room worked for him.
When we entered, his eyes went straight to Noah.
No shock.
No confusion.
Recognition.
“There you are.”
Noah stopped.
“You knew where I was?”
Charles smiled faintly.
“I knew you were alive.”
I nearly crossed the room and hit him.
Richard grabbed my elbow.
“Don’t.”
Charles looked amused.
“Claire always did have more spirit than sense.”
“Say one more thing about me like I’m not standing here.”
His smile disappeared.
Ethan stepped closer to Noah.
Charles noticed.
“Remarkable.”
“What?” Ethan asked.
“The resemblance.”
Noah laughed without humor.
“You should know.”
Charles sat.
“I made mistakes.”
I stared at him.
“You trafficked my newborn child.”
“Don’t be dramatic.”
Noah’s fists clenched.
I put a hand on his arm.
Charles continued.
“The company employed twelve thousand people. Splitting control between two heirs created instability.”
Ethan looked horrified.
“You got rid of a baby because of company shares?”
Charles glanced at him.
“I ensured one heir had a clean succession.”
Noah whispered, “I was the dirty one?”
For the first time, Charles hesitated.
Only for a second.
Then the monster returned.
“You were supposed to have an excellent life.”
“I slept under a bridge last month.”
Charles looked at Richard.
“That was not the arrangement.”
Richard snapped, “Stop pretending you care.”
Charles ignored him.
He opened a folder.
Inside were documents.
“I will establish a trust for Noah. Twenty million dollars.”
Noah stared.
Charles continued.
“A home. Education. Medical care. Whatever he needs.”
“And?” I asked.
Charles smiled.
Smart enough to know there was always an and.
“Noah signs a confidentiality agreement and waives any claim to Whitmore voting stock.”
Ethan said, “You’re buying him again.”
Charles’s face tightened.
“Stay out of this.”
“He’s my brother.”
Something shifted in Ethan when he said it.
My brother.
Noah heard it too.
Charles pushed the paperwork forward.
“Twenty million.”
Noah stared at the number.
A homeless fourteen-year-old boy being offered more money than most families would see in ten lifetimes.
He picked up the pen.
Richard whispered, “Noah.”
Noah signed.
Charles relaxed.
Then Noah turned the page around.
He had written two words across the signature line.
GO TO HELL.
Ethan burst out laughing.
Even I almost did.
Charles went red.
“You ungrateful little—”
Richard stepped forward.
“Finish that sentence.”
Charles looked at his son.
For once, Richard looked like someone I could almost recognize.
Charles slowly leaned back.
“You think you can threaten me?”
“No.”
Richard took out his phone.
“I think the district attorney can.”
Charles smiled.
“You have nothing.”
Noah reached beneath his hoodie.
He pulled out Dr. Reeve’s recorder.
Charles’s smile vanished.
Richard said, “We have a confession.”
Charles’s eyes narrowed.
“A confession from a disgraced doctor who vanished for twelve years?”
Then Charles looked directly at Noah.
“Did Samuel tell you why he vanished?”
Noah frowned.
Charles smiled again.
“Ask your mother’s sister.”
I stared at him.
“What does Patricia have to do with it?”
Charles’s next sentence turned my blood to ice.
May you like
“Patricia was the last person seen with Dr. Reeve before he disappeared.”
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