Chapter 2: The Man Behind the Glass
Grant raised his wineglass as if nothing unusual had happened.
He was fifty years old, elegant, controlled, and trusted by nearly everyone in Adrian’s life.
After the crash, Grant had taken over most daily operations at Cole Industries. He had managed Adrian’s doctors, his rehabilitation schedule, his security, and even his personal correspondence.
Adrian had called him a devoted brother.
Now the letter felt like a knife in his hand.
“Stay close to me,” Adrian told Caleb.
The boy glanced toward Grant.
“Mom told me not to let him see me.”
Adrian’s pulse quickened.
“Why?”
Before Caleb could answer, Grant left the private room and approached them.
“There you are,” Grant said pleasantly. “Everyone is wondering why dinner stopped.”
His eyes moved to the photograph.
Only for a second, but Adrian saw fear.
“Who is the child?” Grant asked.
Caleb stepped behind Adrian’s wheelchair.
Adrian folded the letter and slipped it inside his jacket.
“He says he knows me.”
“Children say many things.”
“He made my foot move.”
Grant’s expression remained calm, but his hand tightened around the wineglass.
“That’s impossible.”
“I felt it.”
“Reflex movement isn’t recovery.”
Adrian watched him carefully.
Grant had answered too quickly.
Caleb leaned closer to Adrian’s ear.
“My mom is in trouble.”
“Where is she?”
“She told me to come here and find you. She said if she didn’t return by morning, I should give you the letter.”
Adrian turned his wheelchair toward the exit.
Grant placed a hand on the chair.
“Where are you going?”
“To find Hannah.”
“At least let security handle it.”
“No.”
Grant lowered his voice.
“You don’t know what that woman wants.”
“She wanted me to know I had a son.”
“You have no proof he’s yours.”
Caleb looked at Grant.
“My mom said you’d say that, too.”
For the first time, Grant’s mask slipped.
He stared at the boy with open hostility.
Adrian removed his brother’s hand from the wheelchair.
“Where does your mother live?” he asked Caleb.
The boy gave him an address in Brooklyn.
Adrian ordered his driver to bring the car around.
As they reached the restaurant doors, Caleb looked back.
Grant was standing beside the table, speaking urgently into his phone.
May you like
Caleb’s face went pale.
“That’s the man who came to our apartment last night.”
