Chapter 4 - Face to Face
The private elevator zipped up fifty floors in total silence.
Camila Moore stood beside me, her arms crossed, monitoring me from the corner of her eye. "Your mother was paid a substantial amount of money to ensure this exact situation never happened, Brinley," she said quietly as the floor numbers ticked upward.
"My mother left me at LAX with two hundred dollars while she went to Europe with her new husband," I snapped back. "She didn't care about me, and she didn't care about your contract. I didn't come here for her money. I came for answers."
Camila's eyebrows twitched slightly, a subtle hint of surprise crossing her stern face, but she said nothing more.
The elevator chimed, and the doors opened into a breathtaking penthouse executive suite. Floor-to-ceiling glass windows offered a sweeping panoramic view of Boston Harbor. The furniture was rich mahogany and dark leather, smelling of polished wood and expensive coffee.
Camila led me down a wide hallway toward a massive set of double doors. She didn't knock. She opened one door slightly and stepped inside, leaving me waiting in the corridor.
Through the glass partition, I saw a large oak conference table. Half a dozen men and women in suits were sitting around it. At the head of the table sat an older man with silver hair, sharp features, and deep, piercing grey eyes.
Arthur Montgomery.
Camila leaned down and whispered into Arthur's ear.
I watched his reaction closely. At first, his face was calm, listening attentively. Then, suddenly, his posture froze. His hands, resting on the table, tightened into fists. He looked up from his papers, turning his gaze straight through the glass wall.
Our eyes met.
It was like looking into a mirror across a thirty-year divide.
Arthur stood up abruptly, interrupting whoever was speaking at the table. "Excuse me. The meeting is adjourned. We will resume tomorrow at nine."
The executives looked confused, but they quickly gathered their files and filed out of the room. As they passed me in the hallway, several of them threw curious, bewildered glances in my direction.
When the room was empty, Arthur walked out into the corridor.
He stood six feet away from me, his breathing slightly elevated. Up close, I could see lines of stress around his eyes, but his presence was commanding, almost overwhelming.
"Brinley?" he asked, his voice a low, raspy baritone.
"Yes," I said, holding my chin up, refusing to let my hands shake. "I'm Brinley."
He took a slow step forward, his eyes scanning my face—taking in my nose, my forehead, my eyes. "You... you look just like my mother," he murmured softly. "You have her jawline."
"I have your eyes," I countered.
Arthur swallowed hard. He turned to Camila, who was standing quietly nearby. "Camila, step outside and hold all my calls. Nobody comes into this floor until I say so."
"Yes, Mr. Montgomery," she said, bowing her head and closing the heavy double doors behind her.
We were alone in the vast, luxurious room.
Arthur gestured toward a leather sofa in the corner. "Please. Sit down."
I didn't sit. I remained standing in the middle of the room, pulling the copy of the birth certificate and the printed copy of the email out of my bag. I laid them both on the low coffee table between us.
"My mother left for Europe four days ago," I said, my voice steady despite the adrenaline surging through my veins. "She dropped me off at LAX with a ticket to Florida and two hundred dollars. But she accidentally left this birth certificate in the envelope. And three days before that, I found this email on her computer."
Arthur leaned down, picked up the printed email from Camila Moore, and read it.
His jaw tightened so hard I heard his teeth grind.
"She told me my whole life that you abandoned us," I continued, feeling a surge of raw emotion rise in my chest. "She told me you didn't want me, that I was a mistake you ran away from. But this email says you've been paying her for ten years under a non-disclosure agreement. Did you pay her to keep me away from you? Did you not want me?"
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Arthur closed his eyes for a long, heavy moment. When he opened them, there were tears glistening in the corners.
"Brinley," he said softly, taking a step toward me. "I never signed an agreement to keep you away. I didn't even know you existed until three years ago."
