Rags To Riches: The Rise Of Mr. Nobody.

Chapter 6: My Secret Sister.

After a week of trying to understand everything that man that claims to be his grandfather said. He decided to visit her today.

His gaze fixed on his phone, eying the address Rodriguez sent him.

I need to see what she looks like.

He found his way out and got a taxi. Soon he approached the house.

“Who's that? I'll get the door.” A feminine voice said from inside.

The door creaked open.

Jayden's eyes widened.

Ashley stared at Jayden, seizing him up.

“Hello uncle. Please, who are you?”

Is this my sister?

Yes, she is. Can't you recognize that blue eyeball?

“Just get our guest inside,” one woman said and Ashley nodded

“Hi dear,” the woman said, walking out from the kitchen area. She wiped her hands on a dishtowel, her eyes scanning Jayden with a mixture of curiosity and a sudden, sharp recognition. “I’m Mrs. Harriet. Ashley, go fetch our guest some water, please.”

Ashley offered Jayden one last inquisitive look, her piercing blue eyes lingering on his face for a second too long before she turned on her heel and headed toward the kitchen.

The moment the teenager was out of earshot, the woman’s demeanor shifted. She dropped the towel onto a nearby table and took a step closer, her voice dropping to a sharp whisper.

“You’re Michael’s boy, aren’t you?”

Jayden’s throat felt dry. He managed a nod. “Jayden. My name is Jayden.”

The woman let out a breath she seemed to have been holding for years, pressing a hand to her chest. “Mr. Rodriguez called us last week. He said you might come. We’ve kept her safe, Jayden. We’ve given her a normal life, just like the Chairman asked. She doesn't know anything about the wealth... or the danger.”

Before Jayden could respond, the light tapping of footsteps signaled Ashley’s return. She held out a glass of water, tilting her head as she looked at him. At fourteen, she had that awkward teenage posture, but there was an unmistakable sharpness in her gaze that reminded him painfully of the portrait of his mother he had at home.

“Here you go,” Ashley said, sitting on the armchair across from him, crossing her legs. “So, who are you? Are you one of my dad's old friends? Or a client from the gallery?”

Jayden took the glass, his fingers trembling slightly against the cold glass. He looked from the foster mother’s warning gaze back to the young girl who carried his true bloodline.

“Something like that,” Jayden said, his voice a bit thicker than he intended. He forced a small, genuine smile—the first real one he had managed all week. “I knew your family. And I wanted to come see how you were doing.”

"Really? Did you know my brother too?" Ashley asked, her eyes brightening with a spark of curiosity. "My foster parents told me I had one. They said my birth mom passed away right after I was born, and my dad... well, he couldn't keep us together. They said my brother went away to stay safe.”

The words felt like a physical blow to Jayden’s chest. He stared at his little sister, the gravity of his father's sacrifices and his grandfather's secret arrangements settling heavy in his gut.

“Yeah,” Jayden said slowly, his voice steadying. “I knew him. He... he didn't want to go away, Ashley. He just had to. To make sure nothing bad happened to you.”

Ashley shrugged, though her eyes softened. “That's what Mom and Dad always tell me. But it sucks. Sometimes I wish he’d just show up, you know? It’s just been me and them my whole life.” She paused, leaning forward, her sharp mind clearly working. “Did he look like you? Because, you look a lot like the old photo I have of my birth dad.”

He looked up at Mrs. Harriet whose face had gone incredibly pale.

He wanted to say he was her elder brother.

She gave Jayden a subtle, pleading shake of her head. Don't tell her yet. It’s too dangerous, her eyes seemed to say.

Jayden swallowed hard, forcing his expression to remain neutral even as his heart skipped. He looked back at Ashley, taking in the slight messiness of her teenage bedroom visible through the hallway, the school textbooks piled on the counter, and that unmistakable blue gaze. She was just a regular kid, completely unware of the shadows of Apexium.

Mrs. Harriet quickly stepped in, clearing her throat to break the mounting tension. “Ashley, dear, why don't you go check on the cookies in the oven? I need to speak with our guest about some old family matters.”

Ashley groaned, but she stood up anyway. “Fine. But don't leave before I come back,” she said, pointing a finger at Jayden with a playful but firm look. “I have a million more questions about my dad’s photography days.”

“I won’t leave,” Jayden promised, his lips twitching into a small, genuine smile.

The moment her footsteps faded into the kitchen, the heavy silence returned. Mrs. Harriet sank into the couch opposite Jayden, looking suddenly exhausted.

Jayden turned to Mrs. Harriet, his voice dropping to a harsh, frantic whisper.

“She knows?” Jayden pressed, his heart pounding against his ribs. “How does she know about me? How does she know she’s adopted?”

Mrs. Harriet offered a sad, understanding smile and gestured for him to lower his voice. “We had to tell her, Jayden. At fourteen, she’s too smart to be lied to. She was asking questions about why she didn't look like us, why there were no baby pictures of her with me in a hospital bed. We didn't tell her about the wealth, or the murders, or the name changes—God forbid. But we told her the baseline truth: that her birth mother passed away right after she was born, and that she had an older brother out there who had to be hidden for his own safety.”

The woman rubbed her temples, looking suddenly exhausted. “We wanted her to know she wasn't abandoned. We wanted her to know she was loved by a family that had to make impossible choices to keep her breathing.”

Jayden swallowed the lump in his throat, looking back toward the kitchen doorway. The anger that had been simmering inside him since he left Albert’s bedside finally found its spark.

“She looks for you in every face that comes through that door, Jayden,” the woman whispered, her eyes shining with unshed tears. “But the Chairman was right to keep you apart until now. The people who killed Michael and Elena... they watched us for years. If they saw a young man matching your description hanging around this house, they would have put two and two together.”

Jayden tightened his fists on his knees. The anger that had been simmering inside him since he left Albert’s bedside finally found its spark. He wasn't just a victim anymore. He wasn't just a baker hiding from a scary corporate entity. He was a big brother.

“Are we safe here right now?” Jayden asked, his voice low, a dangerous edge creeping into his tone.

“For now, yes. Rodriguez ensures our mortgage is paid through a shell company, and we keep a very low profile,” she replied. “But if you take the inheritance... if you step into the light as the Valdez heir... they will start looking for any vulnerability you have. They will find her.”

Jayden looked toward the kitchen door, where the sweet scent of baking was starting to drift through the air, accompanied by Ashley humming a random tune.

He closed his eyes, making his decision. The simple life he wanted was officially dead. He couldn't just run away to his bakery and pretend none of this existed. If he didn't fight them, if he didn't take control of Apexium and destroy the people who threatened his bloodline, Ashley would never be safe.

He opened his eyes, the confusion gone, replaced by a cold, sharp focus.

“I'm going to take the meeting with Rodriguez,” Jayden said softly. “I'm going to learn how to handle them. And when I'm strong enough to protect her... I'm coming back to tell her who I am.”

Mrs. Harriet stared at him, a look of profound relief and respect washing over her features. “Your father would be so proud of you, Jayden.”

A timer buzzed in the kitchen, and Ashley’s voice echoed out. “Cookies are done! Don't you dare leave, mystery guest!”

Jayden let out a soft breath, the heavy weight on his shoulders settling into place. He looked at the kitchen doorway, ready to spend whatever little time he had left with his sister before the war truly began.