Chapter 2 - MY FATHER'S HANDWRITING
Marissa looked from Graham to Adrian.
"Why did you follow me?"
Adrian had no good answer.
"Because I saw Daniel's name in your file."
Her expression hardened.
"You went through my file?"
"I was checking your pay. I overheard the phone call this morning. I'm sorry."
Marissa's embarrassment became anger.
"So you followed the poor widow home?"
"No. I followed a name my family was afraid to say in front of me."
That stopped her.
Graham tightened his grip on the envelope.
"We should go inside."
Marissa's apartment was clean, small, and warm. A baby monitor glowed beside the couch. Owen was asleep in the next room.
Graham placed the envelope on the table.
Adrian recognized the handwriting immediately.
Thomas Whitmore.
His father.
Dead three years.
The front said: DANIEL - OPEN ONLY IF RICHARD MOVES AGAINST YOU.
Adrian stared at Graham.
"My father wrote to Marissa's husband?"
"Open it," Graham said.
Marissa did.
Inside was a letter and a photograph.
The photograph showed Thomas Whitmore twenty-nine years earlier beside a young waitress Adrian did not know. The woman held a baby.
On the back, Thomas had written one sentence.
Daniel, three months old. My son.
Adrian sat down.
"No."
Marissa looked at him.
"Daniel never told me his father's name. He said the man was ashamed of him."
Graham spoke carefully.
"Your father had Daniel before he married your mother. Richard knew. Your grandfather knew. They paid Daniel's mother to leave Massachusetts."
Adrian looked at the sleeping-baby monitor.
Owen Keane was not simply Marissa's son.
He was Adrian's nephew.
Graham pushed the letter closer.
"That's not why Richard was afraid of Daniel."
Adrian unfolded the second page.
Halfway down, his father had underlined a sentence.
If Daniel is legally acknowledged, the Whitmore voting trust must be divided among all of my descendants.
Adrian looked up.
"How much?"
Graham answered.
May you like
"Eighteen percent of Whitmore Infrastructure."
Marissa went completely still.
