Chapter 5: The Man Who Knew My Name
Nathaniel insisted that I stay at the penthouse.
I refused.
I had spent sixteen years being told what had happened to my family. I wasn't going to spend another night sitting in a luxurious apartment while strangers decided what I deserved to know.
"I want to go home," I said.
Nathaniel stood beside the elevator.
"Rose, someone is threatening us.""
"I'm not your responsibility.""
"You're my sister.""
The word sounded strange coming from him.
I had spent my entire life being an only child.
Now a billionaire was calling me his sister.
"You're asking me to trust a family that apparently lied about my entire existence.""
Nathaniel lowered his voice.
"I'm not asking you to trust my father. I'm asking you to let me help.""
Eleanor approached us with her handbag.
"She's right, Nathaniel. Rose has the right to make her own decisions.""
He sighed.
"Fine. But Marcus is driving you.""
I wanted to argue.
Then I remembered the photograph outside the hotel.
"All right.""
An hour later, I was sitting in the back of a black SUV with Marcus driving.
My phone buzzed.
A message from an unknown number.
You shouldn't have gone to the Callaway penthouse.
I stared at it.
Another message arrived.
Your mother made the same mistake.
I immediately showed Marcus.
He glanced at the screen through the rearview mirror.
"Don't respond.""
"Who is this?""
"We'll find out.""
The car turned onto my street in Queens.
I lived in a small third-floor apartment above a laundromat. The hallway always smelled of detergent and fried onions.
It wasn't beautiful.
But it was mine.
Marcus parked outside.
"I'll check the building first.""
I nodded.
He disappeared through the entrance.
Three minutes later, he returned.
"Everything looks clear.""
I climbed the stairs.
When I unlocked my apartment, I immediately noticed something wrong.
My living room light was on.
I never left it on.
My stomach tightened.
"Marcus?""
He stepped in front of me.
"Stay behind me.""
He reached for his radio.
"Unit two, possible unauthorized entry. Apartment three-B.""
He pushed the door open.
The apartment looked untouched at first.
Then I saw my bedroom.
Every drawer had been pulled out.
My clothes were scattered across the floor.
The mattress had been turned over.
Someone had searched the entire room.
Marcus walked toward the kitchen.
"Rose, don't touch anything.""
I stood beside the doorway, trying to breathe.
Then I noticed a small red object beneath my mother's old photograph frame.
A leather notebook.
My heart nearly stopped.
"That's my mother's.""
Marcus turned.
"What?""
I picked it up carefully.
The cover was scratched, and the edges were burned.
It was the same red notebook I remembered from childhood.
I opened it.
Most of the pages were filled with handwriting.
Names.
Dates.
Hospital numbers.
Payments.
Then I found a page with my birthday written across the top.
November 14.
Beneath it were three names.
Rose Carter.
Nathaniel Callaway.
Daniel Mercer.
I read the third name twice.
Daniel Mercer.
The name Margaret had mentioned.
The third baby.
My hands trembled.
A photograph slipped from the back cover.
It showed my mother standing beside a young man.
He looked about twenty-five.
On the back, Grace had written:
Thomas, if you ever find this, tell our son I never abandoned him.
I stared at the picture.
Thomas.
The man from the marriage certificate.
My father.
Marcus came closer.
"Do you recognize him?""
"No.""
I turned the photograph over again.
There was an address beneath the message.
A small town in Pennsylvania.
And a phone number.
I immediately called Nathaniel.
He answered on the first ring.
"Rose? Are you okay?""
"Someone broke into my apartment.""
His voice changed.
"What? Are you hurt?""
"No. Marcus is here. But I found something.""
I read him the three names.
He went silent.
Then he asked, "Daniel Mercer?""
"Yes.""
"That's the same name Margaret gave us.""
I looked at the notebook.
"There's an address too.""
"Send it to me. Don't go anywhere.""
Before I could answer, I heard a noise behind me.
A floorboard creaked.
Marcus spun around.
"Who's there?""
A man stepped out of my bedroom.
He was tall, wearing a dark coat and black gloves.
Marcus immediately raised his hand.
"Don't move!""
The man didn't run.
Instead, he looked straight at me.
"Rose Carter?""
I couldn't speak.
He slowly removed his gloves.
He had familiar eyes.
Eyes that reminded me of the few childhood photographs I had of my mother.
"Who are you?"" I whispered.
He swallowed.
"My name is Thomas Carter.""
My knees weakened.
"My father?""
His face crumpled.
"Yes.""
I stepped backward.
"Where have you been?""
Thomas looked down.
"I've been looking for you.""
"For sixteen years?""
He nodded.
"Every day.""
"Then why didn't you find me?""
His eyes filled with tears.
"Because the people who took your mother threatened to kill you if I ever came near.""
Marcus moved closer.
"Sir, I need you to explain why you were inside this apartment.""
Thomas slowly raised both hands.
"I didn't break in. I used the spare key.""
"There is no spare key," I said.
He looked at me.
"Your mother gave me one before she disappeared.""
My throat tightened.
"Where is she?""
Thomas looked away.
Then he whispered:
"Grace is alive.""
I grabbed the kitchen counter.
"No.""
"Rose—"
"You're lying!""
"I'm not.""
I felt tears spilling down my cheeks.
"Why didn't she come back?""
Thomas's voice broke.
"Because she wasn't allowed to.""
He reached into his coat and removed a folded newspaper clipping.
It showed a woman standing outside a hospital.
Older.
Thinner.
But I recognized her face.
My mother.
The photograph had been taken only three months earlier.
I snatched it from his hand.
"Where is she?""
Thomas looked toward the window.
"She's being held in a private care facility outside Philadelphia.""
Marcus immediately contacted Nathaniel.
But before he could finish speaking, Thomas grabbed my wrist.
"Rose, listen to me carefully. You cannot tell Nathaniel where she is.""
I stared at him.
"Why?""
May you like
Thomas looked terrified.
"Because your brother is the reason your mother has been imprisoned for thirty years.""
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