CHAP 14 — THE SON CONRAD WANTED
Daniel had received another message.
This time he did not tell Claire.
He went to Conrad’s childhood home.
Conrad was waiting.
No weapon.
No guards.
Only two glasses of whiskey.
“I wondered how long it would take.”
Daniel remained standing.
“You tried to kill Thomas.”
Conrad smiled.
“Thomas drove drunk.”
“You sent someone.”
“Prove it.”
Daniel hated how familiar those words sounded.
Conrad poured whiskey.
“You have my eyes.”
Daniel almost hit him.
Instead:
“Why did you give me away?”
Conrad’s smile disappeared.
“I did not give you away.”
“You forged Marianne’s consent.”
“I secured your future.”
“My mother wanted me.”
“She was a secretary.”
“She was my mother.”
“And Eleanor Whitmore could give you the world.”
Daniel stared.
There was no shame.
That was the worst part.
Conrad genuinely believed placement inside wealth had been generosity.
“You made me part of your plan.”
“I made you important.”
“No. You made me useful.”
Conrad leaned forward.
“And yet you became CEO.”
“I became CEO because I worked for it.”
“You became CEO because I opened every door.”
Daniel felt the old doubt return.
Conrad saw it.
Smiled.
There.
That was why Daniel had come.
To discover what his father wanted.
Not confession.
Possession.
Conrad wanted Daniel to believe everything good in his life came from him.
“You want me to help you.”
“I want you to survive.”
“What do I have to do?”
Conrad slid documents across the table.
Daniel would publicly question Claire’s identity.
Support an outside receiver.
Resign from cooperating with investigators.
In return Conrad would protect him from corporate charges.
“And Claire?”
“She leaves with enough money to live comfortably.”
Daniel laughed.
“You still don’t understand her.”
“I understand people better than you ever will.”
“No.”
Daniel leaned forward.
“You understand leverage.”
Conrad’s eyes hardened.
“There is no difference.”
That was the confession Daniel needed.
Not legally.
Personally.
He stood.
Conrad’s voice stopped him.
“Did Marianne tell you she tried to sell you to me?”
Daniel froze.
Another poison dart.
Conrad continued.
“She demanded money.”
Daniel turned.
“You’re lying.”
“Twenty-five thousand dollars.”
Daniel’s face changed.
Conrad smiled.
“She was not the saint you have created.”
Daniel left without answering.
Back at the hotel, he confronted Ortiz.
She checked Marianne’s banking records.
Twenty-five thousand had indeed been deposited shortly before Daniel’s birth.
Daniel closed his eyes.
Claire asked where it came from.
The records showed a cashier’s check.
From Conrad.
Daniel broke.
“My mother sold me.”
Claire refused to accept the conclusion.
She searched Ruth’s files.
Marianne’s cassette.
Old legal correspondence.
Then she found the truth.
Twenty-five thousand dollars was the amount Marianne paid a private investigator.
The same day.
She had accepted Conrad’s money—
and used every dollar to investigate him.
The investigator’s archived file contained photographs.
Conrad meeting Richard.
Conrad meeting Thomas.
Conrad entering Hawthorne Street.
Marianne had not sold Daniel.
She had funded the evidence that might one day save him.
Claire rushed to Daniel.
But when she reached his room—
he was gone again.
On the desk was a handwritten note.
I need to end this before he destroys anyone else.
May you like
And beside it—
Daniel’s engagement ring.
