Chương 4
"You know my name," I said.
"You know my mom."
"You have pictures of me."
"You have a folder with my name on it."
I held up the photograph.
"And you don't know?"
His face tightened.
"No."
The honesty made me pause.
A lie would have been easier.
I looked around the lobby.
The receptionist was pretending not to listen.
The woman with the tablet was staring at the floor.
The guards had moved farther away.
Everyone knew something except me.
That feeling was worse than the wallet.
The wallet had been a problem I could solve.
This was something I could not even understand.
Mr. Graves opened the folder again.
"I need to call your mother."
"Why?"
"Because she deserves to explain this herself."
"Then call her."
He hesitated.
That hesitation told me more than his words.
"You don't have her number?"
His eyes moved away.
I laughed once.
A small, bitter sound that did not feel like me.
"You don't know how to call my mom?"
"I have not spoken to her in twelve years."
The number twelve seemed to follow me everywhere.
Twelve years.
Twelve years since something happened.
Twelve years since my mother stopped knowing this man.
Twelve years since the secret started.
I looked back at the photograph.
"How old was I here?"
He swallowed.
"Newborn."
"So you knew me when I was a baby."
"Yes."
"Then why weren't you there?"
The question came out quietly.
Maybe that was why it hurt more.
His eyes moved toward the window.
Outside, cars moved along the street like nothing in the world had changed.
"I made a mistake."
I waited.
He did not continue.
Adults always seemed to think saying something was a mistake was enough.
But mistakes had shapes.
They had names.
They had consequences.
"What mistake?"
His phone rang.
The sound cut through the moment.
He looked at the screen.
Then immediately rejected the call.
A second later, it rang again.
This time he answered.
"Not now."
A voice spoke too quietly for me to hear.
Mr. Graves's expression changed.
"Where?"
Another pause.
"No."
His hand tightened around the phone.
"Do not bring her into this."
I knew he was talking about me.
Children know when adults are trying to hide them from conversations.
It is one of the first skills we learn.
"Who was that?" I asked after he hung up.
"No one."
I crossed my arms.
"You really like that word."
His mouth moved slightly.
"What word?"
"Nothing."
For a moment, he looked like he wanted to smile.
But he did not.
"My daughter used to say things like that."
I froze.
"Daughter?"
He looked at the photograph again.
"Before everything changed."
There was sadness in his voice now.
Not the kind people show strangers.
The kind they accidentally reveal.
I did not know what to do with that sadness.
I was still upset.
I was still confused.
But suddenly he did not look like a billionaire.
He looked like someone who had lost something.
The front desk phone rang.
The receptionist answered.
Then her eyes moved toward me.
She looked worried.
"Mr. Graves."
He stood.
"What?"
She covered the phone with her hand.
"It is Elena Ellis."
Everything stopped.
Even me.
My mother's name sounded different inside that building.
Like it belonged to an older story.
Mr. Graves walked toward the desk.
He did not pick up immediately.
He stared at the phone.
The receptionist looked uncomfortable.
"She asked if Ruby is there."
My heart dropped.
She knew.
Of course she knew.
Maybe she always knew.
Maybe the moment I left the house with the wallet, my mother somehow felt the world shifting.
Mr. Graves slowly lifted the receiver.
"Elena."
I could not hear her voice.
But I could hear his.
It was quieter than before.
"Yes."
A pause.
"She's safe."
Another pause.
"No, she found the wallet."
His face changed.
Then he looked at me.
"I know."
Another pause.
His hand moved through his hair.
"You should have told her."
The words made my chest tighten.
My mother.
The person who told me honesty mattered.
The person who hated secrets.
She had kept one.
A big one.
Mr. Graves listened.
Then he closed his eyes.
"Elena, she deserves the truth."
A few seconds passed.
Then he said something that made my whole body go still.
"Because she is old enough to know that I am her father."
The lobby disappeared.
The sounds faded.
I only heard one sentence.
I am her father.
I stared at him.
He looked back at me.
And for the first time since I entered Graves Tower, the billionaire looked afraid of me.
Not afraid that I would hurt him.
Afraid of what I would ask.
The receptionist slowly turned away.
The woman with the tablet stopped pretending to work.
Nobody moved.
I walked toward Mr. Graves.
My legs felt strange.
Like they belonged to someone else.
"You said you knew me when I was a baby."
He lowered the phone.
"Ruby—"
"No."
My voice cracked.
I hated that it did.
"Answer me."
He looked at me.
"I am your father."
The words were simple.
Too simple.
A sentence like that should have come with thunder.
A warning.
Something.
Instead, it just sat between us.
I thought about every Father's Day card I had made at school.
Every time the teacher said to draw your family.
Every time I drew my mother and me.
Every time I wondered what it would be like to have someone else at the table.
And now that person was standing three feet away.
A stranger.
My father.
"Why didn't you come?"
His face changed.
The question hit exactly where I wanted it to.
"I tried."
"How many times?"
He looked away.
That was enough of an answer.
I felt my anger return.
"Once?"
"Ruby."
"Twice?"
"Please."
"Did you even look for me?"
The silence hurt.
Not because he did not care.
May you like
Because he cared and still had no answer.
Finally, he said, "I thought I lost you."
