2025-12-10 14:15:52Nathan stepped away from the dining room, still holding the repaired phone Aurora returned earlier. The sound of her fork tapping the plate echoed faintly behind him, but he forced himself to ignore the gentle glances she kept throwing his way. Her attention distracted him far too easily these days, which felt strange for someone who had lived through eight long years of marital indifference.
The device vibrated again.
Amy Hart appeared once more on the small, revived screen.
Nathan frowned. He opened the call log and nearly dropped the phone. Dozens of missed calls filled the list—every one of them from Amy. She had been dialing repeatedly, minute after minute, without stopping.
Before he could overthink, he accepted the call.
A trembling sigh washed through the speaker. “Nathan! Finally! I've been calling forever! I was scared something happened!”
Her frantic relief was almost overwhelming.
“Amy? What’s wrong?” Nathan asked gently. “Why did you call so many times?”
“Because nothing made sense!” she answered instantly. “I heard from the maids that you left. Then I heard the divorce rumor. Then I heard Celine refused to explain anything. I thought you vanished altogether.”
Nathan leaned against the kitchen counter, lowering his voice. “I’m sorry. I didn’t tell you sooner. Things happened very quickly.”
Amy inhaled shakily. “I can’t believe she did that to you. I can’t believe she pushed out the most dependable person in that entire house. Everything feels lifeless now. You were the only thing keeping that place warm.”
Nathan sighed. “Celine made her decision. I simply respected it. Lyra seems more comfortable with Tristan anyway.”
A harsh gasp erupted through the phone. “Don’t say that! Absolutely not! That child wouldn’t know comfort if it smacked her. She acted spoiled because Celine allowed her to treat you like a servant. That doesn’t mean she preferred that man.”
Nathan didn’t argue. “It doesn’t matter anymore. I moved on.”
“It matters to me!” Amy snapped sharply. “You were the only adult there with common sense. Celine can’t cook, can’t clean, can’t manage anything without throwing money at it. Every meal this week has tasted like soggy regret. I didn’t eat anything tonight. I lost my appetite thinking about what she did to you.”
Nathan let out a quiet laugh. “That bad?”
“Worse,” Amy replied quickly. Then she paused. “Wait. Did you leave anything edible behind before leaving?”
Nathan thought for a moment. “Yes. I left marinated beef in the lower freezer. It should still be good. Heat it thoroughly.”
The sound of rushed footsteps filled the call. A fridge door opened. Another gasp burst out.
“It’s here! I found it!”
A microwave beeped moments later, followed by a satisfied groan. “Nathan… this is divine. I swear, you’re a culinary miracle. How could she let someone like you go? What in the world is wrong with her?”
“You shouldn’t worry about me,” Nathan said gently. “Focus on yourself.”
“I’m focusing on swallowing this before depression hits me again,” Amy muttered between bites. “This is so good. Wow. I missed this so much.”
“Glad you like it.”
After a few more mouthfuls, she regained composure. “So… what now? What are you planning next?”
“I’ll be working for Veylor Group,” Nathan said. “Not in management. I’ll start as a regular employee. I need time to settle in.”
Amy nearly choked. “That’s ridiculous. You used to run departments. You handled complicated teams with ease. Why bury yourself under entry-level responsibilities?”
“I prefer starting small,” he replied calmly. “I need stability before anything else.”
Amy grumbled for nearly a full minute. “You’re too humble. Too patient. Too everything.”
Nathan chuckled again.
Eventually, she sighed. “I’m full. I’m calmer. I’ll head home soon. This house feels cursed. Celine and Tristan keep arguing for hours. Even Lyra hides in her room.”
“Get some rest, Amy.”
“I will.” Her tone softened dramatically. “Thank you for answering. Really.”
The call ended on a quiet note.
Nathan exhaled slowly and stared down at his phone. Aurora still sat at the table, pretending to be absorbed in her meal while clearly watching him from the corner of her eye. He turned away, trying not to meet her gaze. Something about her concern always struck deeper than he expected.
His thumb hovered over his contacts again.
One name stood out sharply:
Alistair Veylor
Nathan swallowed. His father’s name triggered a peculiar ache—something faint, distant, and emotionally tangled. He tapped the profile. A small line of text appeared beneath the contact name:
R34 D
He stared at the strange characters. The text glowed faintly, unlike the rest of the interface. A hyperlink.
“That’s impossible,” Nathan whispered.
His father died years ago. Back then, he used this phone only for basic calls and messages. Hyperlinks inside contact profiles were not even common features at the time.
“How did this get here…?”
He examined the characters again. R34 D. A code? A reference? A hidden message?
Something stirred inside him—not a memory, but a sensation. A whispering tug buried somewhere behind fractured recollections. His father always prepared things thoroughly. His father always planned ahead. His father always protected him.
Could this be another layer of that protection?
Nathan pressed the link.
The screen darkened instantly, lighting only through a faint golden shimmer. Symbols formed slowly across the display, rearranging themselves into a crest—an ancient emblem shaped with ornate lines and a crown-like motif. Something about the symbol felt familiar, though his memories refused to surface fully, hovering just beyond reach.
Below the crest appeared a locked prompt:
ENTER ACCESS CODE
Nathan blinked. “Access code…?”
He tried a few possibilities.
His father’s birthday.
Rejected.His mother’s birth date.
Rejected.His own birthday.
Rejected.He pinched the bridge of his nose. “What else…?”
He attempted old anniversaries. Important dates. Nothing worked. Every attempt led to the same denial message flashing back at him:
INCORRECT CODE
He paced slightly, mind racing. “What would Father use…?”
Then a sudden thought hit him.
His father’s phone number.
He hadn’t dialed it since the funeral. He memorized it out of habit long before smartphones saved contacts automatically. Something instinctive pushed him toward that possibility.
He typed the digits.
The lock screen froze.
For a full second, nothing changed.
Then the golden crest pulsed.
ACCESS GRANTED
Nathan inhaled sharply.
The display shifted again, revealing a new interface—sleek, dark, and unmistakably private. Gold letters formed across the center, each one materializing with elegant precision.
Nathan’s heart pounded.
This wasn’t a simply public website. This was something deliberately hidden.
Something Alistair prepared long ago…Something meant only for Nathan.
A final line of text appeared:
WELCOME, JULIAN VEYLORNathan nearly dropped the phone. Julian Veylor.
His real name, but he’s not yet realized or even remembered it.
His father’s voice thundered inside his skull as if rising from a forgotten world. His pulse quickened, cold sweat trailing down his spine.
“What… what is this…?”
A little truth he spent years unknowingly running from was now staring directly at him.
Previous Chapter
Latest Chapter
Uninvented Guest
Late afternoon light filtered through the wide glass panels of the café, casting warm streaks across the wooden counter. The place carried a gentle hum—soft music, muted conversation, the clink of porcelain. Sophia sat at the bar, posture relaxed, fingers wrapped around a ceramic cup still releasing steam.She took a slow sip, eyes briefly closing. “This is consistently good,” she said. “You never disappoint.”Nathan smiled from behind the counter, wiping his hands on a clean cloth. “Coffee behaves well when it’s treated kindly.”Sophia laughed under her breath. “You sound like a philosopher disguised as a barista.”“Maybe I got tired of loud lives,” Nathan replied. “This one is quieter.”She glanced around the café, taking in the atmosphere—plants hanging from wooden beams, sunlight touching every corner, customers lingering without urgency. “I understand why you like it here.”“I do,” Nathan said honestly. “It’s slow. People come without rushing, leave without stress. It reminds me
Abigail
Abigail sat cross-legged on the living room rug, crumbs dotting the napkin spread across her knees. The pastry box lay open beside her, its contents already half gone. She took another bite, eyes bright, chewing thoughtfully before breaking into a grin.“This is really good,” she declared. “The best one yet.”Sophia watched from the couch, one arm resting along the back, the other holding a tablet she hadn’t touched in minutes. “You say that every time you like something.”“But this one is different,” Abigail insisted. “It tastes warm. Like someone actually cared.”Sophia smiled despite herself. “I’ll tell him you approved.”Abigail looked up sharply. “So we’re gonna go to that lovely caffe?”“Eventually,” Sophia replied. “When work slows down.”Abigail hummed, clearly unconvinced. “You always say that.”She finished the last bite and licked her fingers, then leaned back against the sofa. “Tomorrow there’s an outdoor class activity, mom. We’re going to the botanical center near the ri
Start with Casual Talks
One full week had passed since the small café quietly opened its doors in Summervile. The sign above the entrance was simple, almost understated—Coffe—a name that drew curiosity rather than spectacle. There was no grand opening, no press, no social media campaign. Yet every afternoon, the seats filled, and by dusk, the place hummed with warmth, conversation, and the steady aroma of roasted beans and baked sugar.Nathan stood behind the counter, sleeves rolled up, apron tied neatly at his waist. He worked as both owner and chef, his movements precise but unhurried. Most customers believed he was merely a talented cook who had decided to change careers. None of them suspected that the café itself was a carefully constructed bridge.Profit was never the objective.Sophia Hart arrived almost every evening at the same hour.At first, she had only come out of curiosity, drawn by the quiet atmosphere and the absence of ostentation so rare in Summervile. Then she stayed for the coffee. After
Family Connection
Nathan adjusted his suit jacket as he stood outside the VVIP office, the quiet hallway wrapped in an atmosphere of restrained authority. Aurora stood beside him, holding a slim tablet against her chest, her expression composed but attentive. Even after everything they had endured together, moments like this still carried weight.The secretary opened the door and gestured politely.“Mr. Cole, you may enter now.”Nathan nodded once and stepped inside. The room was spacious, minimalist, and bathed in soft daylight filtering through floor-to-ceiling windows. Kade Veylor sat behind a broad desk of polished dark wood, reviewing documents with calm precision.Nathan offered a brief respectful bow before taking the seat across from him, only after Kade motioned for him to sit. Aurora followed, remaining slightly behind Nathan, as protocol demanded.Kade lifted his gaze, studying Nathan with a thoughtful look.“I’ve heard your request,” Kade began evenly. “You want Veylor Group to pursue an in
New Information
Nathan sat alone inside his office, the city skyline stretching beyond the glass wall like a frozen battlefield of steel and light. Papers lay spread across his desk, not financial reports this time, but sketches, handwritten notes, fragments of memory he could not yet assemble into a complete picture.A soft knock sounded.“Come in,” Nathan said.Adam entered, posture straight, eyes alert as always. Since the incident at Boulevard, Adam had moved with a quiet sense of duty that went beyond simple employment.“I have updates,” Adam said, closing the door behind him.Nathan gestured for him to continue.“The armored vehicle wasn’t a coincidence,” Adam began. “Our team confirmed it originated from a concealed access route beneath the old apartment complex. That corridor wasn’t built as an escape tunnel—it was a controlled pathway.”Nathan leaned forward. “A pathway to where?”“To something deeper,” Adam replied. “We traced it further underground. The passage extends far beyond the origi
Return on Investment
Morning sunlight filtered through the glass walls of the main conference hall, reflecting sharply off polished marble floors and the long oval table at its center. The atmosphere inside Veylor Group’s executive meeting room felt unusually tense, as if every person present already sensed that today’s evaluation would reshape internal power lines.Nathan entered alongside Aurora, his expression calm, posture composed. Aurora took a seat slightly behind him, carrying a tablet filled with supporting data, though she knew Nathan might not even need it. Around the table sat directors, division heads, and sub-division leaders—faces that ranged from neutral professionalism to barely concealed hostility.At the head of the table, Kade Veylor observed quietly, fingers interlaced, gaze sharp.“The meeting will begin,” Kade announced evenly. “We’ll review performance updates by division.”Edward rose first.He wore a confident smile, one that came easily to someone accustomed to praise. His prese
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