Chapter 3 - THE SECRET SONChristopher couldn't sleep.
The words repeated inside his head.
The man who looks like you.
At first, he assumed Emma meant someone with similar hair or clothing.
But when he showed her photographs of his relatives, she pointed to one immediately.
His older half-brother.
Nathan Hale.
Christopher stared at the photograph.
Nathan had been dead for eight years.
Or so everyone believed.
“Emma,” Christopher whispered, “where did you see him?”
She pointed toward the basement.
“Down there.”
Christopher's heart began pounding.
He hadn't entered the basement in years.
It contained old family records, furniture, and documents from his father's estate.
Marcus accompanied him.
They descended the stairs.
The basement was dark.
Marcus switched on the lights.
Nothing seemed unusual.
Then Christopher noticed something.
One cabinet door was open.
Inside were old photographs.
And one empty space.
He pulled out the remaining documents.
“Someone was here.”
Marcus nodded.
“There are fresh footprints.”
They followed the footprints.
They ended at a brick wall.
Christopher frowned.
“There used to be a door here.”
Marcus looked closer.
He found a concealed latch.
The wall opened.
Behind it was a narrow room.
Christopher stepped inside.
There was a desk.
A computer.
Several folders.
And dozens of photographs of Emma.
Christopher's stomach turned.
Emma at school.
Emma in the garden.
Emma sleeping.
Emma playing with toys.
Someone had been watching his daughter for months.
Marcus opened one folder.
Inside were financial records.
Christopher scanned them.
Then he stopped.
Every payment led back to the same company.
“Hale Family Holdings.”
His own company.
Someone inside his organization was funding the surveillance.
Marcus looked at him.
“Sir…”
Christopher opened another folder.
It contained a birth certificate.
Nathan Hale.
Christopher stared.
Then he noticed another name.
Mother: Eleanor Hale.
Father: Richard Hale.
Christopher's father.
Christopher's face went pale.
Nathan wasn't his half-brother.
He was his full brother.
But the date of birth was impossible.
Nathan had supposedly died eight years before.
Christopher looked at Marcus.
“This certificate is real.”
Marcus nodded.
“So is the photograph.”
The room suddenly felt freezing.
Christopher heard a noise upstairs.
Footsteps.
Marcus drew his weapon.
They moved silently toward the staircase.
A shadow crossed the hallway.
Christopher stepped forward.
“Who's there?”
No answer.
Then the figure ran.
Marcus chased him.
Christopher followed.
They reached the courtyard.
The man jumped over the wall.
Christopher caught only a glimpse of his face.
Older.
Scarred.
But unmistakable.
Nathan.
Christopher stood frozen.
Marcus returned.
“We lost him.”
Christopher looked toward the wall.
“My brother is alive.”
Back inside, Detective Reed arrived.
Christopher showed him everything.
Reed looked stunned.
“If Nathan is alive, then this changes everything.”
“How?”
“Your father's estate.”
Christopher frowned.
“My father left everything to me.”
“According to the will.”
“Exactly.”
Reed pointed at the documents.
“What if Nathan was never legally declared dead?”
Christopher's eyes widened.
“If he's alive…”
“Then the inheritance could be challenged.”
Christopher suddenly understood.
The billion-dollar trust wasn't the only money at stake.
His entire company.
His estate.
His father's legacy.
Nathan could potentially claim all of it.
But why involve Juliette?
Christopher looked at the photographs of Emma.
“Because Emma's trust controls the final piece.”
Reed nodded.
“Exactly.”
Christopher's phone buzzed.
A message appeared.
UNKNOWN:
YOU HAVE UNTIL MIDNIGHT.
Below it was a photograph.
Emma sleeping.
Christopher's blood ran cold.
The message continued.
BRING THE TRUST DOCUMENTS TO THE OLD TRAIN STATION.
COME ALONE.
Christopher deleted nothing.
He handed the phone to Reed.
“I'll go.”
“No.”
Christopher looked at him.
“My daughter is being threatened.”
“We'll set up surveillance.”
Christopher nodded.
But when he returned upstairs, Emma was gone.
Her blanket was on the sofa.
The back door was open.
Christopher's heart stopped.
“Emma!”
He ran outside.
Marcus shouted into his radio.
“Lock down the property!”
Christopher searched the garden.
Nothing.
Then he saw a small pink hair clip on the ground.
Emma's.
He picked it up.
His hand trembled.
His phone rang.
The same unknown number.
Christopher answered.
A child's voice came through.
“Daddy?”
Christopher's blood turned cold.
“Emma!”
A man's voice replaced hers.
“Midnight.”
The call ended.
Christopher stared into the darkness.
Someone had taken his daughter.
May you like
And for the first time that night, he realized the pool attack had never been the real plan.
It had only been the beginning.
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