REJECTED, THEN THEY FOUND OUT I WAS A BILLIONAIRE

CHAPTER SEVEN: THE NAME HE WASN'T SUPPOSED TO KNOW

Richard didn't get into the car. He stood beside it, staring at Elias Grant.

"Who's the third man?"

Grant looked toward the elevator doors. "They're gone."

"That doesn't answer my question."

"Richard, get in."

"No."

Grant's jaw tightened. "We don't have time for this."

"You've been telling me that since I walked into your office." Richard's voice rose. "My father was supposed to be dead. Now I'm being chased by armed men, someone is sending me messages, and you're in a twenty-year-old photograph with him." His fingers tightened around the envelope. "And you're telling me not to ask questions?"

Grant stared at him for several seconds, then sighed. "Get in the car."

Richard didn't move.

Grant lowered his voice. "If you want answers, you're going to have to trust me long enough to stay alive."

Those words made Richard's stomach tighten. *Trust no one.* His father's handwriting flashed through his mind. He hated that Grant had used almost the exact words he'd been thinking.

Richard finally opened the passenger door and climbed inside. The assistant jumped into the back. Grant started the engine, and the tires squealed slightly as they left the parking garage. For several minutes, neither man spoke.

Richard watched the city pass through the window. People walked along sidewalks. Cars stopped at traffic lights. A woman stood outside a café laughing into her phone. Normal life. It felt strange seeing it. Only yesterday, he had been worried about a failed marriage proposal. Now someone wanted him dead.

Richard looked down at the envelope resting on his lap. "Where are we going?"

"Somewhere private."

"That's not an answer."

"It's the only one you're getting right now."

Richard clenched his jaw. He was beginning to understand why people hated lawyers.

His phone vibrated. He pulled it out immediately. Unknown number. His heart skipped. One new message.

*You should have asked Grant about your mother.*

Richard stared at it. His breathing stopped.

"My mother?"

Grant glanced at him. "What?"

Richard turned the phone toward him. Grant read the message. His face changed. Not much. Just enough. But Richard noticed.

"You know something."

Grant kept his eyes on the road. "Don't reply."

"Why?"

"Because we don't know who sent it."

Richard stared at him. "You recognized it."

"No."

"You did."

Grant remained silent.

Richard's voice became quieter. "Tell me about my mother."

Grant's hands tightened around the steering wheel. "Your mother died when you were fourteen."

"I know."

"Then what exactly are you asking?"

Richard looked at him. "Was she really my mother?"

The car went silent. Grant didn't answer. Richard's heart began pounding.

"Answer me."

"Richard..."

"Was she?"

Grant finally looked at him through the rearview mirror. "Yes."

Richard leaned back. For some reason, the answer didn't make him feel better. "Then why did that message mention her?"

"I don't know."

Richard laughed bitterly. "You don't know anything, do you?"

Grant's eyes returned to the road. "Not everything."

That answer was worse.

Twenty minutes later, they pulled into an underground parking facility beneath an old office building. There was no sign outside. No company name. Nothing that suggested anyone important worked there.

Grant parked. Richard stepped out. "Where are we?"

"Safe."

Richard looked around. "This doesn't look safe."

"It isn't supposed to."

They entered through a steel door. The hallway beyond was narrow and poorly lit. Grant walked ahead, unlocking another door with a keycard. Inside was a small office. A desk. Two chairs. Several filing cabinets. Nothing luxurious. Nothing that looked like it belonged to a billionaire.

Grant closed the door behind them. "Sit."

Richard remained standing. "I'm tired of sitting."

Grant gave him a tired look. "Fine." He walked to one of the filing cabinets and unlocked it. Richard watched him pull out a thick brown file. He placed it on the desk.

"Your father's disappearance wasn't an accident."

Richard's stomach dropped. "What happened?"

Grant opened the file. "Alexander Black owned Blackwell Holdings."

"I know that."

"No. You know what I told you this morning." Grant pulled out several documents. "The company was worth billions before your father disappeared."

Richard stared at the papers. "Billions?"

"Yes."

"Then where is it now?"

Grant looked at him. "That's complicated."

Richard gave a humorless laugh. "Everything with you is complicated."

Grant ignored him. "When Alexander disappeared, control of the company was transferred temporarily to a group of trustees."

"Trustees?"

"Men your father trusted."

Richard's eyes narrowed. "And one of them was you?"

Grant didn't answer immediately. Richard's stomach tightened.

"Was it?"

"I was his attorney."

"That's not what I asked."

Grant looked down at the file. "I was involved."

Richard stepped closer. "Involved how?"

Before Grant could answer, his phone rang. He checked the screen. His expression changed.

"Who is it?" Richard asked.

Grant rejected the call. A second later, the phone rang again. Same number. Grant switched it off.

Richard stared at him. "Who keeps calling you?"

Grant slipped the phone into his pocket. "Someone I don't want speaking to."

Richard shook his head. "You expect me to trust you?"

"No." The answer caught him off guard. Grant looked directly into his eyes. "Not yet."

Before Richard could respond, the lights went out. The room went completely dark. The assistant cursed from somewhere near the door.

Richard froze. "Grant?"

"Stay where you are."

Something metallic scraped against the floor outside. Then came three soft knocks. Richard's pulse jumped. Not again.

Grant reached inside his jacket.

"You have a gun?"

"Stay behind me."

Another knock. Then a voice came through the door.

"Mr. Grant."

Grant went still. Richard recognized the voice. It was the man from the elevator. The same calm voice. The same man who had shown him the photograph. Richard's heart began hammering.

The door handle moved.

Grant whispered, "There's a back exit."

Richard turned. "Where?"

"Behind the cabinet."

The assistant started moving toward it. Then the lights suddenly came back on. Everyone froze. The room was empty. The hallway outside was silent.

Grant rushed to the door and opened it. Nothing. Richard followed. At the end of the hallway, an elevator stood open. Empty.

Grant stepped inside and pressed the button. Richard watched the numbers descend.

"He's gone."

Grant nodded.

Richard turned back toward the office. Something on the floor caught his attention. A small white envelope. It hadn't been there before.

Richard picked it up. His name was written across the front. RICHARD BLACK. His hands began to shake.

Grant saw it. "Don't open that."

Richard looked at him. "Why?"

Grant's face had gone pale. "Because I know who wrote it."

Richard slowly turned the envelope over. There was no seal. No return address. Only one sentence written beneath his name.

Your father didn't abandon you. He was running from the people who wanted you dead.

Richard's breath caught. He looked at Grant. "Who wrote this?"

Grant didn't answer.

Richard opened the envelope. Inside was a single photograph. His mother's face stared back at him. Richard's fingers trembled. But that wasn't what made his blood run cold. On the back of the photograph were four words.

Ask her why she lied.

Richard stared at the message. Then his eyes slowly lifted toward Grant.

"My mother lied to me?"

Grant's silence answered before his words did.

Richard's phone suddenly rang. The screen displayed an incoming call.

Mum.

Richard stopped breathing. He stared at the name. His mother had been dead for fourteen years.

And yet the phone kept ringing.