Chapter 2 - The Ghost of a Secret Past
Jonathan didn't wait for the bill. He threw a stack of hundred-dollar bills onto the table, grabbed Emma’s small hand, and walked out through the kitchen exit, avoiding the front entrance where paparazzi were already beginning to gather.
His private security detail met them in the back alley, their black SUV idling in the rain.
"Get us to the penthouse," Jonathan ordered, pushing Emma into the leather interior of the vehicle before sliding in beside her. "And tell the security team to sweep the perimeter. We were followed at the restaurant."
As the SUV sped through the wet streets of Manhattan, Emma sat quietly, clutching her backpack to her chest like a shield. She looked overwhelmed by the luxury of the car, but her eyes remained sharp, tracking every turn they made.
"Who was the man who left you at the bus station?" Jonathan asked, turning to face her. "You said he claimed to be your biological father."
"He told me his name was Marcus," Emma said, her voice small. "But my mom never called him that. In her diary, she wrote about a man who forced her to leave you. She said he threatened to ruin your life and destroy your company before it even started if she stayed with you."
Jonathan’s hands clenched into fists. Twelve years ago, TechVision was just a tiny startup. He had been desperate for funding. An anonymous investor had offered him ten million dollars on one bizarre condition: Jonathan had to cut all ties with Sarah Anderson. At the time, Sarah had suddenly vanished, leaving only a brief note saying she didn't love him anymore. Jonathan had assumed she had simply abandoned him.
He had taken the funding, built the empire, and let his heart turn to stone.
"Do you have the diary?" Jonathan asked.
Emma slowly unzipped her worn backpack. She pulled out a small, leather-bound notebook with a brass latch. The leather was scuffed and water-damaged, but the binding was intact.
"I didn't let Marcus have it," Emma said proudly. "He searched my mother's apartment after she died, but I had already hidden it in my school locker. When he realized I had it, he tried to lock me in a room. That's when I ran."
Jonathan reached for the diary, but before his fingers could touch the leather, his phone rang again. This time, it was a video call. The screen displayed the face of Michael Reynolds.
Jonathan answered, holding the phone up. Michael’s face was tense, his hair slightly disheveled despite the late hour.
"Jonathan, thank god," Michael said, his voice laced with anxiety. "The board is in an absolute uproar. The video of you and that kid at Lielle has gone viral. Media outlets are speculating that she’s your secret daughter, abandoned in poverty while you live in a penthouse. Our stock is already down four percent in after-hours trading."
"I don't care about the stock, Michael," Jonathan said coldly.
"Well, you should," Michael snapped. "Because the board is talking about invoking the morality clause in your contract to strip you of your voting rights. They want to appoint me as interim CEO tomorrow morning to stabilize the market. Where are you?"
"I'm heading home," Jonathan said.
"Jonathan, listen to me," Michael’s tone softened, turning deceptively warm. "If that girl is Sarah’s child... you need to be careful. Sarah wasn't who you thought she was. She was troubled. She had debts. Just let me handle this. Send the girl to a private facility I've set up upstate. We can run a quiet DNA test there, away from the media."
Jonathan’s eyes narrowed. He hadn't mentioned Sarah’s name to Michael tonight.
"How do you know she is Sarah's child, Michael?" Jonathan asked softly. "I never told you her mother's name."
The silence on the other end of the line was deafening. Michael’s eyes widened slightly on the screen, a brief flash of panic crossing his features before he quickly recovered.
"You... you mentioned Sarah years ago, Jonathan. I just assumed," Michael stammered. "Look, just bring her to my office. We’ll sort this out."
"No," Jonathan said, and ended the call.
He looked down at the diary in Emma’s lap. His heart was hammering against his ribs. The puzzle pieces were beginning to fall into place, and the picture they formed was terrifying.
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"Emma," Jonathan said, his voice trembling slightly. "Did your mother ever mention a man named Michael?"
Emma looked up, her blue eyes reflecting the streetlights passing outside the window. "Yes," she whispered. "She said Michael was the monster who paid her to run away. And she said if he ever found out about me... he would kill us both."
