The Hidden heir’s revenge

CHAPTER 3 THE SON WHO STOLE MY LIFE

“Adrian Thorne.”

Varek repeated the name slowly, as if saying it aloud might make the impossible truth easier to understand.

The man on the phone remained silent.

Sebastian Blackstone took the device from Varek’s hand and pressed it against his ear.

“Explain exactly what you found.”

“Sir, the hospital records show that Eleanor Thorne delivered twin boys on February twenty seventh, twenty nine years ago. The first child was registered as Varek Richard Thorne. The second child was recorded under a temporary identification number. However, someone altered the documents three days later.”

“Who authorized the alteration?”

“We are still investigating that. But the original record contains two fingerprints belonging to the children’s mother and two separate birth measurements.”

Sebastian glanced at Varek.

“Are the records authentic?”

“Yes, sir. We have compared the signatures with other verified documents from the same period. They appear genuine.”

“And the second child?”

“The temporary identification number was eventually replaced with Adrian Thorne’s official registration.”

Varek felt as though the floor had disappeared beneath him.

Twins.

He and Adrian had been born on the same night, to the same mother, yet their entire lives had been built around the belief that Adrian was his younger brother.

Every birthday celebration, every family photograph, every story about Adrian’s birth had been a lie.

Varek remembered their childhood.

Adrian had always been smaller in the earliest photographs, but nobody had ever explained the difference beyond the fact that he had supposedly been born several minutes later.

Their mother had often told them they were special brothers.

She had never mentioned twins.

Not once.

“Send me the documents,” Varek said.

Sebastian returned the phone to him.

“Before you make any decisions, understand what this means. If Adrian is your twin, the inheritance dispute could become much more dangerous. Depending on the terms of the trust, he might have a legitimate claim to part of your grandfather’s estate.”

Varek looked at him.

“He tried to kill me.”

“That does not change his biological relationship to you.”

“No. But it changes what he deserves from me.”

Naomi Cross shut her laptop.

“We should not assume the records prove everything. There could have been an adoption, a legal transfer, or another arrangement that explains why Adrian was registered differently. We need the original documents and DNA tests before drawing conclusions.”

Varek nodded.

For the first time since waking up at Blackstone Estate, he forced himself to think beyond his anger.

If Adrian was his twin, then someone had deliberately separated their identities.

Someone had decided that one boy would inherit the family name while the other would grow up fighting for approval.

Someone had turned them into rivals before either could understand what rivalry meant.

And that person might have been their own father.

“Naomi,” he said, “I want DNA samples collected from both of us.”

She gave him a questioning look.

“Your brother is unlikely to cooperate.”

“Then find another way to obtain evidence legally. I don’t want assumptions. I want proof that no lawyer can destroy.”

“Understood.”

“And investigate my mother.”

Naomi paused.

“Eleanor Thorne?”

“Yes. Everyone says she died when I was three. I want her medical records, death certificate, burial records, everything.”

Sebastian watched him carefully.

“You believe she might still be alive?”

“I believe my family has lied about everything else. I will not accept her death as another convenient story.”

Varek turned toward the window.

Far below the estate, the city stretched beneath the afternoon sun. Cars moved along the distant highway, and people went about their ordinary lives, unaware that the dead heir of one of the country’s most powerful families had returned.

For the first time, Varek understood the real danger.

His family had not simply stolen his money.

They had stolen his identity.

And until he understood why, he could not trust a single person who carried the Thorne name.

⸻

At Thorne International, Adrian stood before the floor-to-ceiling windows of his new office.

The view was magnificent.

From the thirty-eighth floor, the city looked like a collection of tiny buildings and moving lights. The office had belonged to Varek for seven years, but Adrian had ordered the furniture replaced overnight.

He wanted no reminder of the brother who had always stood above him.

On the desk lay a document bearing the official seal of the Thorne family trust.

Beside it was a photograph of two newborn boys.

Adrian picked up the photograph.

For years, he had wondered why his father kept certain family records locked away. He had suspected a secret, but he had never imagined the truth would be this significant.

He had not discovered the hospital records by accident.

Three months earlier, he had hired a former hospital administrator to investigate his birth registration after a dispute over a property inheritance.

The administrator had found discrepancies.

Adrian had paid for the original records.

When he learned that Varek and he had been born on the same night, he initially dismissed it as an administrative error.

Then he discovered the original document bearing their mother’s signature.

Two children.

One mother.

One father.

Two identities.

And a handwritten note at the bottom of the page.

The firstborn must never discover the truth.

Adrian had taken the document to his father.

Richard had gone pale when he saw it.

For several seconds, the older man had appeared ready to collapse.

Then he had locked the office door and told Adrian everything.

Not the entire truth, of course.

Richard never revealed more than he believed necessary.

But Adrian learned enough to understand that his entire life had been constructed around a secret.

He was not the younger son.

He was not the spare heir.

He was Varek’s twin.

And their grandfather had chosen Varek alone to inherit the empire.

Adrian had spent his entire childhood being told that he was the second son, the one who needed to work harder to prove himself.

Now he understood why.

His father had needed a reason to keep him away from the inheritance.

And Varek had been the perfect excuse.

A knock interrupted his thoughts.

“Come in.”

Marcus Vale entered the office.

Adrian put the photograph down.

“Any news?”

Marcus closed the door.

“The funeral arrangements are complete. The body was buried, and the authorities have closed the investigation.”

“Good.”

“There is one complication.”

Adrian’s expression hardened.

“What complication?”

“Sebastian Blackstone has been asking questions about the hospital records.”

For a moment, Adrian said nothing.

Then he laughed.

“Blackstone? Why would he care about my family?”

“We don’t know.”

“Does he know about the second birth registration?”

“Possibly.”

Adrian walked to the desk and opened a drawer.

Inside lay a small black box.

He removed a silver ring bearing the original Thorne family crest.

The ring had belonged to Jonathan Thorne, his grandfather’s younger brother.

According to the family history, Jonathan had died alongside his brother in the accident twenty-nine years earlier.

But the ring had appeared in Richard’s office two days before Varek’s arrest.

Adrian had found it there and taken it.

His father had demanded that he return it immediately.

Adrian had refused.

He wanted answers.

“Marcus, I need you to find out whether Varek’s body was actually examined before burial.”

Marcus hesitated.

“You instructed me to ensure his death was confirmed.”

“I instructed you to make sure nobody could challenge it.”

“And the hospital confirmed he was dead.”

“Did anyone independent examine the body?”

Marcus looked away.

Adrian’s grip tightened around the ring.

“Answer me.”

“No, sir.”

Adrian stared at him.

For the first time since taking control of the company, fear crept into his expression.

“You told me he was dead.”

“He was showing no signs of life when we left the medical facility.”

“That is not the same thing.”

“Sir, the medication was sufficient to stop his breathing and heart activity temporarily. The doctor assured us the procedure was reliable.”

Adrian slammed his hand against the desk.

“Reliable?”

Marcus fell silent.

Adrian had spent years convincing himself that Varek’s existence was the reason he would never become the man he wanted to be.

Now he had risked everything to remove him.

If Varek returned, the forged documents would be exposed. The financial transactions would be investigated. His position as chairman could collapse.

Worse, the truth about their birth could become public.

Adrian looked at the photograph of the two newborn boys.

He had never hated Varek simply because Varek was successful.

He had hated him because their father had made Varek the standard by which every other member of the family was measured.

Even now, after Varek’s death, Richard had continued talking about the sacrifice his eldest son had made.

Adrian had finally inherited the company, yet he still felt as though he were standing in his brother’s shadow.

He refused to return there.

“Find the body,” Adrian ordered.

“And if it has already been buried?”

“Then dig up the grave.”

Marcus looked startled.

“Sir?”

“If Varek is alive, I want to know before he reaches this building.”

Adrian picked up the ring.

“And Marcus?”

“Yes, sir?”

“If you discover that my brother survived, do not try to negotiate with him.”

His expression hardened.

“Finish what you started.”

⸻

By evening, Varek was sitting in a private medical room while a doctor examined his injuries.

His ribs were bruised, two fingers were fractured, and the medication used against him had left his body severely weakened.

The doctor recommended several days of rest.

Varek gave him twenty-four hours.

When the examination ended, Naomi returned with a thin folder.

“I found something about your mother.”

Varek immediately sat upright.

“What?”

“Eleanor Thorne was not buried in the family cemetery.”

He stared at her.

“What do you mean?”

“Her death certificate states that she died in a private hospital following complications from a long-term illness. However, the hospital has no admission record, no treatment history, and no physician’s signature confirming her death.”

“Who signed the certificate?”

“Your father.”

Varek slowly closed his eyes.

Richard had signed a death certificate for a woman whose death could not be verified.

“Was there a funeral?”

“Yes. A private ceremony was held at the family estate. No body was displayed, and the burial was completed before the extended family arrived.”

Varek opened his eyes.

“Where is her grave?”

“According to the records, she was buried in a private cemetery outside the city.”

“And you believe she might be alive?”

“I believe the available evidence is insufficient to establish that she died when your family claims she did.”

Varek rose from the chair.

“Take me there.”

“Not tonight.”

“Naomi.”

“You have a fractured hand, injured ribs, and a body that has only recently recovered from a dangerous drug exposure. If you want to uncover the truth, you need to remain alive long enough to do it.”

He stared at her.

She did not look away.

For a moment, Varek saw something in her expression that reminded him of the person he had once been.

Someone who believed that the truth was worth pursuing, even when powerful people wanted it buried.

He slowly sat down.

“Fine. Tomorrow morning.”

Naomi nodded.

“There is something else.”

“What?”

“I traced the company that purchased the medication used against you. The payment came from an account linked to Thorne International, but the authorization originated from a private office outside the company.”

“Whose office?”

She opened the folder and showed him a photograph.

It was a photograph of a modern building with dark glass windows and a gold sign above the entrance.

MERCER GLOBAL HOLDINGS.

Varek recognized the name.

“Daniel Mercer.”

“The dead director from the security footage,” Naomi said. “Except this company was incorporated six years ago, and its current beneficial owner is hidden behind three layers of corporate registration.”

“Can you identify the owner?”

“I am working on it.”

Varek studied the photograph.

“Find out who controls Mercer Global Holdings. I want every transaction, every shareholder, every connection to my father.”

Naomi closed the folder.

“I should warn you that the people involved may be more dangerous than your brother.”

“Good.”

She frowned.

“Good?”

“For the first time, I know what I’m fighting.”

Naomi watched him for a moment before leaving the room.

When the door closed, Varek picked up his phone.

He had no access to his old accounts, no legal identity that could be used without raising suspicion, and no company to call his own.

As far as the world was concerned, he was a dead criminal.

But he still had one thing.

His memory.

He remembered the original company structure, the hidden investment accounts, the private contracts, and the people who had tried to manipulate him over the years.

He knew where his father kept the documents that had never been entered into the company’s digital records.

He knew which board members could be bribed and which could be frightened.

Most importantly, he knew the weaknesses of the empire he had helped build.

He opened a blank note and began writing names.

Richard Thorne.

Adrian Thorne.

Jonathan Thorne.

Daniel Mercer.

He paused, then added another name.

Eleanor Thorne.

His mother.

The woman whose death had never been properly documented.

The woman who might hold the key to his birth, his inheritance, and his grandfather’s murder.

Varek stared at the list.

Then his phone vibrated.

An unknown number had sent him a message.

If you want to know why your grandfather chose you, stop investigating Adrian.

A second message arrived.

Your brother is not the person you should fear most.

Varek’s fingers tightened around the phone.

He typed a response.

Who is this?

The reply came almost immediately.

Someone who watched your grandfather die.

Varek stopped breathing for a moment.

Another message appeared.

And someone who knows which of the two Thorne twins was supposed to die that night.

Before Varek could respond, the sender transmitted a photograph.

It showed two newborn boys lying side by side in a hospital nursery.

One wore a white identification bracelet.

The other wore a blue one.

On the white bracelet was the name Varek Thorne.

On the blue bracelet was a name that had been crossed out in black ink.

Varek enlarged the photograph.

Beneath the crossed-out name, faint letters remained visible.

He read them once.

Then again.

His face turned pale.

The name was not Adrian.

It was not Richard.

It was not Jonathan.

It was a name Varek had never heard before.

DAMIAN MERCER.

A final message appeared.

Your father did not bring two sons home from the hospital that night. One of those boys belonged to another family. And when the truth comes out, you will discover that the man who raised you may have spent twenty-nine years protecting the wrong child.