.
"They said you have information about my identity," Caleb began, his voice firm. He jammed his hands into his pockets. "I know you want Diana to marry your cousin, but don't you think it's a little strange, digging into me?" He wanted to appear fierce, not desperate.
"Have your seat, Mr. Blake." Mr. Callahan gestured to a plush leather chair.
"I'd rather stand. What did you find out about me?"
Mr. Callahan rose, moving to a hidden compartment in his study. He returned with a framed picture and a small jewelry box. He gazed at the picture for a moment, a profound sadness settling on his features, before placing it gently on the desk.
"Come and have a look at your identity," he invited.
Caleb hesitated. But then he saw it: the familiar golden gleam as Mr. Callahan drew his necklace from the jewelry box. He moved closer. The picture in the frame showed a beautiful woman. He didn't remember her clearly, but something deep inside whispered recognition. "What's this about?" Confusion clouded his eyes. Mr. Callahan's composure unnerved him, but he pushed the feeling away.
"May I?" Mr. Callahan gestured to Caleb's own necklace. Caleb nodded, unhooking it. It landed in Mr. Callahan's hand. He watched as Mr. Callahan ran his fingers over the pendant, as if searching for something. He found a tiny button, almost invisible. He pressed it.
"How did you know about that?" Caleb demanded. He'd worn the necklace his whole life, never knowing.
Richard shushed him with a quick glance.
As the button clicked, a small, round frame slid out from the pendant. It held a picture. Caleb snatched it from Mr. Callahan's hand. A name was engraved: Mr. C. Ishq. He saw his father and mother. But his gaze locked on the woman, her face beaming. A wide smile broke across his bruised lips, and tears welled in his eyes.
"How did you know about this? Thank you so much." He appreciated the gesture.
Mr. Callahan took the necklace back. "Here." He pointed to the man in the pendant's picture, then gestured to the larger framed photo on the desk. It showed the same woman, his mother, and a man standing behind her. "Don't you recognize this person?" Mr. Callahan asked.
Caleb stared, looking harder. "Isn't he... my father?" He began, "Do you know..." Then it hit him. The man in the picture. The man standing before him. The same person. He stumbled back, almost tripping. Richard reached out, steadying him. Caleb pulled away.
"I... I don't understand this. This..." He looked from the pictures to Mr. Callahan. Images, glimpses of his past, flashed through his mind.
A woman, her features matching the pendant, spoke in his memory. "Stay with Mrs. Laura. I'm sorry for doing this to you, but for now, stay with her. Your father is in prison for what he didn't commit. People are after us. This is the only way." The woman kissed his forehead, waved goodbye. Mrs. Laura called out a name: Fiona. His mother's name. She turned back. "Thank you for..." The memory faded.
Caleb stood, eyes fixed on Mr. Callahan. "Can you explain this?" he asked.
"I didn't know how to approach you without scaring you or pushing you away," Mr. Callahan began. "After I saw your necklace, we took a sample of your DNA from the cup you used and ran some tests." He coughed.
Richard stepped in. "There have been many imposters claiming to be you, so we needed to be sure before approaching you." Richard continued, "I've been Mr. Callahan's assistant for 29 years. Please, try to hear him out."
"I just want to know how true this is. I... I..." Caleb stuttered, his voice choked.
"It's true. Here's the DNA test result." Mr. Callahan handed him a document. Caleb saw it: "Compatibility between A & B: 99% match."
Tears streamed down his face. He'd searched his whole life for this. And now, the father he'd sought stood before him. The same man whose son had publicly humiliated him. But that didn't matter now. Only answers.
"I have fragments of memories, but I could only see your back," Caleb said, his voice raw. "Did you really abandon us? What happened to my mother?"
"I didn't," Mr. Callahan said, his voice thick with emotion. "I was accused of committing what I never did. The CIA seized all my documents. Their research showed I was guilty. They falsified the evidence. I lost my company, then I heard someone bought it under another name. We traced it. It was your mother, she bought it in your name. Since then, Richard has managed it for you."
"You still haven't answered my question. These are just excuses," Caleb challenged.
"I was in prison for what I didn't commit, like I said. I tried to send you and Fiona to Miami, but our enemies caught on. When I went to prison, believing you and your mother were safe, I saw news reports. Fiona Callahan supposedly took her own life weeks later. I knew it wasn't true. When I got out, I searched for you. I found out your mother didn't kill herself. The people who accused me of embezzlement and money laundering tried to buy off my company. When my wife found out and bought it instead, they killed her."
Caleb's hands went cold. He'd known his mother was gone, but the truth of her death twisted his gut. He believed Mr. Callahan because the fragments of his memory, the picture, even his necklace, matched.
He sank into the chair offered earlier. Mr. Callahan approached, a mix of yearning and hesitation on his face. He didn't know how to embrace his son, not after 20 years, not after Caleb grew up as a delivery man. The guilt was a heavy weight. He knelt, placing his hands on Caleb's lap.
"I'm sorry I found you late. I'm sorry. It's okay to blame me," Mr. Callahan said, his voice cracking. "But please, don't resent your mother. She wanted to save you and secure your future. She never knew life would turn out this way. She never knew that for 20 years, we wouldn't see or grow up together." He held Caleb's hands, caressing them gently. "Thank God I reunited with you. I got all the information. I found out you grew up with Laura. Laura was your mother's friend. Even when I searched for Laura, her information showed her as a missing person." Mr. Callahan's voice trailed off.
Caleb felt a confusing mix of happiness and anger. He had his identity, he knew what happened, but his father had been living a good life, a rich life, while Caleb struggled. How had this happened so fast? He squeezed his father's hands back, then stood.
"I understand," Caleb said. "But I need time to process all of this."
"What if you disappear?" Mr. Callahan's voice held fear. "And I never see you or know how you're living?"
"You won't." Caleb turned to leave. "You didn't know how I was living for 20 years, and you survived. You got married and had another child."
Richard stepped forward, blocking his path. "Your father hasn't been with another woman since the death of your mother."
Caleb turned. "What do you mean? So who is Tony and his mother?"
"Tony is an adopted son," Richard said, his voice grave. "He's the son of the man who killed your mother. Your father kept him around until he found you."
"Wh...at?" Anger flashed in Caleb's eyes. "And what about the lady from the other day?"
"She's just a contracted bride. Nothing more."
Fear gnawed at Caleb, is this some kind of mafia movie or what?, who exactly is his father? And why does he have lots of secrets?,. "Do you mean to say my father raised the child of the man who killed my mother?"
"Yes," Richard affirmed. "He groomed him for when you return. Caleb, you are no longer a Smith or a blake. You have a fortune waiting for you
. A business waiting for you to take over. A trillion dollars to handle. So take all the time you need. But just know that You can't run from your destiny."

Latest Chapter
96
The study was dimly lit, filled with the scent of old paper and something faintly smoky—perhaps from the fireplace that hadn’t been used in weeks. Mr. Callahan’s fingers hovered over a stack of albums tucked into the bottom shelf. He slowly pulled one out, a leather-bound photo album already frayed at the edges from too much handling over the years.Arthur stood at the doorway, unsure whether to step back or remain still. He had come to return a book to Mr. Callahan, but the conversation had taken a strange turn.Mr. Callahan opened a page, eyes softening at a photograph. His voice, when it came, was quiet, almost to himself.“What? That was where my son died.”Arthur shifted. “Sir?”Mr. Callahan turned the photo album around and pointed to a burned structure in a picture. It was taken long ago, probably by the press or police. “That was the place,” he said, then reached into a drawer and brought out a framed photograph.He handed it to Arthur.Arthur took it carefully, glancing down
95
The room was quiet. The breeze from the open window lifted the curtains gently, casting strips of sunlight across Arthur’s face as he stood in quiet contemplation. A towel rested on his shoulder he had just finished cleaning and his eyes were fixed on the floor, yet his thoughts were elsewhere, deeper than the surface he stood on.“I think I need to go back home for some time,” he murmured to himself, voice low and heavy. “I need to explain better to them that I didn't run away from home. I just needed to find my way around... and try to go back to living my life, not depending on my family.”It wasn’t guilt that weighed him down. It was something heavier—an unshakable sense of unfinished business. And perhaps, somewhere deep inside, it was the echo of a life he hadn’t fully remembered.Wiping his hands one last time, he folded the towel and draped it over his shoulder before walking out. His steps were slow, deliberate, as he made his way to Mr. Callahan’s office. He reached the door
94
The Callahan mansion had never truly known silence not even in grief. There was always movement, whispers, or the quiet hum of Jasper’s laughter. But that morning, as the sun crept past the marble pillars and into the drawing room, everything felt… paused.Diana wasn’t downstairs yet. Richard and Mr. Callahan sat by the large window, reading reports in silence. K.J. was away on business. Daphne had just stepped out for a call. The only sound was the distant ticking of the clock on the mantelpiece.Then, a knock.Three slow, firm knocks.The butler opened the door and paused. His eyebrows arched as he stepped aside for the guest to enter.A man with strands of greying hair stepped in broad-shouldered, tall, his presence oddly commanding despite the humble coat he wore. His eyes scanned the room, but there was no hesitation in his steps as he walked directly toward Mr. Callahan.Richard stood up first. “Can we help you?”Mr. Callahan squinted at the man, the wrinkles on his face tighten
93
The sun was barely up when Arthur packed a bag and left the compound.He didn’t say a word to Diego. Couldn’t. Wouldn’t. Not yet.There was no plan, just a pull in his chest that refused to loosen. The boy from yesterday, the strange stares, the woman’s laugh—it had cracked something open. He couldn’t pretend anymore. Something was missing. And if no one was going to give him answers, then he would find them himself.He’d seen the notice on a worn-out bulletin board two towns over. Now Hiring: Callahan Mansion. In need of full-time domestic help. ID Required. It was simple enough. A name, a few lies, and he could walk right into the home that tugged at something deep inside him. He didn’t know why, but it felt like the answers were there. Something was waiting for him inside that house.Maybe someone.Maybe himself.****Later That Day Callahan MansionThe Callahan estate was alive with quiet movement. Diana had resumed working part-time at the hospital, and Jasper had grown into a st
92
Morning came too quickly.Arthur sat at the edge of his bed, staring out the window at the dew-covered fields. Birds chirped in the distance, the sun barely above the horizon. It should’ve been peaceful—but inside him, everything felt restless.He couldn’t stop thinking about yesterday. About that woman’s laugh. The man’s eyes. The kid’s smile. All of it kept looping in his head like a song he couldn’t get rid of. He barely slept.There was no reason for it to bother him so much. No logical explanation for why complete strangers had made his chest tighten like that. He told himself it was just déjà vu, like Diego said. Just some scrambled memory flashing through his broken mind.But that didn’t make it go away.Downstairs, Diego was already in the kitchen, slicing fruit and making tea like he did every morning. When Arthur walked in, his uncle looked up with a small smile.“Didn’t hear you come down,” Diego said.“Didn’t sleep much,” Arthur replied, pulling out a chair and sitting at
91
The sun was nearly gone, casting long shadows over the quiet compound. Arthur walked slowly toward the main house, his shoulders heavy, his face tense like something was stuck in his chest that he couldn’t quite shake off. He found his uncle in the study, a book open in his lap. Diego noticed the look on his nephew’s face immediately."You look like your thoughts are chewing you up," Diego said, closing the book. "Rough day?"Arthur let out a long sigh, brushing his hand over his forehead like he was trying to wipe the feeling off his skin. "The day itself was fine. I fixed the fence. The woman was happy with the work." He paused and looked at his bruised hands. "But something happened when I was leaving. I saw a woman, a man, and a little boy. Just standing there across the road."Diego raised an eyebrow. "And?""I don’t know what it was," Arthur said, frustration creeping into his voice. "I just… the woman’s laugh it felt like I’d heard it before. The man looked at me like he knew m
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