Chapter Fifty-One

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Chapter Fifty-One

"I adopted your father when I was around twenty-seven. I could not have my own so instead, I adopted. Back then, I lived in Shanghai, my business beginning to thrive at the heart of China. I moved to America for a while to globally expand. To keep myself grounded from the materialistic lifestyle I'd begun to lead, I volunteered at an orphanage every few days, mostly weekends. There was a little boy who always had the brightest blue eyes and an unforgettable smile. That was your father.

            "I wasn't married. I didn't need to be. I was a flourishing businesswoman and could handle adopting a child alone without strains. I wanted a family, my own kid. He is the best thing to have ever happened to me," Madam Jin exclaims, looking down at her lap and smiling to herself. I want to reach out and hold her hand, but I don't know where we stand with each other to do so.

            "He grew to be bright. Brilliant. Handsome. I gave him everything he could ever need but kept him humble. A bit of a troublemaker during his younger years, but a fine man he was...," she says, sighing. Even though she had stopped crying earlier, a tear quickly forms and streams down her face immediately. She doesn't even try to wipe it.

          "What...what happened?" I ask. Madam Jin has been giving me background, facts about my father, who he was—is—was—I don't know. The facts give me a little more information to soothe my worries and curiosity but she still hasn't gotten to the deep and dark secret that was so serious that she had to enforce her best security division on my mother.

              "My company hit the jackpot. Your father became the new president and I became chairwoman."

            "How's that a problem? Isn't that good?"

              "Let's just say not everyone was happy." She plays with a diamond ring on her middle finger, twirling it around and caressing the jem. "Workers who had been there for a long time, since the beginning of the empire I'd created, were not content with the news that your father would just get the company passed down to him. This was a misunderstood concept and everyone believed your father did not deserve it..but he did. He worked just as hard as anyone. Went to Harvard and then Yale to excel his degrees. Spent endless nights working and gave customers all of him. I think what angered people the most was that we weren't blood-related. But they were wrong. Your father is my son, blood or not. I trusted him more than any of the power and money hungry people under me."

                "So what happened?" My stomach gets an uneasy feeling, like mixing in warm and cold in the pit of my belly.

              "Around this time, he fell for your mother, Mary—oh, Helen, sorry. She was a freelance artist, promoted in various indie exhibits and magazines. Contemporary art with a twist. They met at an art gallery, argued about her painting, and the rest is history. At this time, there were only strikes going on at work. Some quit. Others hid their opinions even though they felt the same. It was getting bad. I hired a new vice president who everyone approved of and it was quiet. For a while. Your brother came along and then you. I was a happy grandmother—busy, but happy.

            "And then one day, there was an attempt on your father's life."

              I audibly gasp, my breath being physically affected by this statement.

            "It didn't succeed. Someone had tried to poison your father with carbon monoxide but thank god, there were detectors nearby in his office." She pushes back a string of hair and from the way she's fidgeting, I can tell these memories aren't the most comforting to remember. "I was very shaken up. I never suspected it to get that far."

              "Who was it?"

            "We didn't know for the longest time," she explains. "Most people had quit and not every worker had access to your father's room. Only certain. The list of suspects was short but it was hard to find the person. Security cameras had been wiped out and security themselves had been bribed. We ran several thorough investigations."

             "...And?"

             "It was the vice president." Madam Jin sighs, breathing in through her nose before calming to speak again. Her hands return to play with her ring. "He was a friend of mine so I had never suspected it to be him, but he was the only one with enough access and power to pull it off. But one of his assistants gave him up after an offer made by my lawyers."

           My eyes widen. Someone that close and dangerous was around my father? All my life I'd believed he'd died in an accident. Not murder.

            Madam Jin continues, "It didn't end well when we confronted him. One night, he barged in through my home, fighting through security, screaming that he'd get revenge. We'd ruined his career and put him in jail. He said your father didn't deserve to be president, didn't deserve to live. That he'd pay, with his life or with a generous amount of money."

             "But...he was put in jail, right?" I ask. "He's in custody?"

             She looks at me and shakes her head solemnly. "With money and power like that, you can get out of almost anything. His lawyers poked and prodded the case, bribed many, and found holes in our statements. He got off after a couple of years. At first, his threats had been empty but we'd already gone as far to get a restraining order anyway.

            "Your father was anxious. He didn't like it. He wanted to take you all away. As long as Victor, the ex-vice president of the company and now criminal, was out on the streets, your father would not stop looking over his shoulder, ready to whisk his wife and children away at a moment's notice. And the day came. Victor came back with his own group of revenge-seeking ex-workers to confront your father one day. It was at his home and it was mid afternoon. Your father gave Victor a scar on his eye and your father barely made it out. It was horrible timing as Mary and Brent and you came home that evening from school."

                "I...I don't remember anything," I murmur, squeezing my hands into fists as if to wake myself up or conjure any faded memories. "I don't remember...."

              Madam Jin places a gentle hand over mine and eases my hand apart from the compact fist. "It's all right, Ivory. That's not in your control. You were only a little girl and even Brent was too young to remember."

               I nod, shutting my eyes momentarily to stop any tears that might fall. "I know." After a breath, I open them again, breathing through my nose and holding my wavering breath. "What happened after we came home?"

                  "Your father grabbed everyone and got in his car and drove. Information about this is uncertain as no one really knows what happens," she says. "But what I know, or knew as of months ago, was that there was an explosion. All the cars involved in that chase down the private road had burned. That night, I lost all of my family. Police and examiners claimed bodies were too burned to be identified but I recognized the car and knew. There were no stop light cameras or security footage as it was in your father's home which was quite in the middle of nowhere upstate. No one knew what happened to Victor either. At the time, the grief was so unbearable nothing else mattered...."

               A silence covers us like a warm blanket. I use the time to soak all her words in, process all this information in my head. If this is real, how could it happen? How could this possibly be real? How could I have had a different life at some point? How could I be the little girl who died in that explosion that night?

             "Not to resurrect any more pain, but how is this possible?" I ask, wiping away my face and getting serious. "I do have memories of my father. When I was younger and in Brownwood and I remember him coming to my games in little league and making banana pancakes. And I remember his accident. The funeral. There's no way all of this was fake. There's no way he could possibly be alive now. The two stories make no sense together."

             Madam Jin leans down into a compartment that I didn't even realize was there and pulls out a glass and a bottle of bourbon. No ice, she pours and takes a long elegant sip. "Excuse me," she says in a broken voice and takes another sip. When she holds the glass in her lap and after a few silent seconds, she speaks again, "This is my theory on what really happened.

             "Your father talked excessively of taking you away. He didn't think the business, being president of the company, or all the money in the world was worth losing his family over. And I was so proud he thought that way. I just didn't expect it like this. What I think happened was that explosion, it was all planned somehow. I do not know how but your father and your mother and Brent and you—you didn't die in the fire. He somehow got all of you out. He ran away with all of you, changed your names. Your identities. Faked his own death so Victor would stop pursuing him because it wasn't a crime of power or money anymore, it was a crime of passion. The only way was to pretend to be dead."

              She downs the rest of her glass. "I just didn't realize I wasn't worth enough to stay." Sobs break out of her and she put her hands to cover her face and all I can do is be in shock. "Oh god, t-that sounds terribly selfish. I knew he couldn't s-stay. I just wished he would write a letter or send some sort of message he was alive so I didn't have to live everyday thinking my son—my entire family—was dead because of me, because of the vicious empire I'd created. Money is a murderous thing."

            I slide closer across the black leather seats and place an arm around her. I can't say anything to console her. The story itself is giving me a heart attack. What she said happened, there's no way. It's too crazy, too unbelievable. All I can do is pull her close as tears fall down my face as well.

           "And it didn't end there," she continues. "If your father made it out of that fire, so did Victor. Your father thought he'd made it, created a safe life for his kids in suburban New York. But Victor found him. And when the danger arose again, he knew the only way to get rid of him again was to do the same thing he did last time. Play with death.

              "This time, just him. To make it authentic, he made his death believable. The real grief from your mother and the funeral, it was all a plan for your safety. He knew if he cut himself out, there would be nothing Victor could touch. Without your father, your mother was a happy painter without a care for anything in the world. She never liked the high end life anyways. And this time, he'd disappear. For real."

             "My father faked his death again? To keep me safe? To keep us safe?" I say, repeating what I'm hearing. I've never been so shaken by words. My stomach is in knots and I don't know if I want to throw up or cry for a million years. My whole life has been a lie.

             She nods. "I do not know the certain details. Nobody really knows but your father. But he was intelligent enough to disappear for real. That's why you're life has been peaceful. Until now."

            "Until now?"

          "Victor must've found him again. Or realized he's alive. If I can find your father after just a couple months of searching, Victor, who is hell bent on finding your father, can just as easily find him. Victor has connections, too. And that's why your mother's not safe."

          "My mother? What?"

             "I believe Victor knows your father is alive but he cannot find your father. He will do anything to hurt your father, even if that means hurting your mother or you to lure him out. And your father will come. He'd risk everything to save you three. Brent is safer than you and your mother who are right in New York, but I've sent security to watch your brother anyways."

             I open my mouth and will it to speak but I can't find the words to put this whirlwind of fear and rage and sadness into words. Brent? In danger? And then, as if my brain finally wakes up and stops avoiding everything Madam Jin has told me, my brain connects the dots and a new question forms in my head. And I hope the answer is no.

               "Did..Did Victor purposely hurt my mother—attempt to kill her or cause her coma—to bring my father out of hiding? Would he do that?" I ask and my voice cracks near the end. There is a pain in my throat, the one I get where I'm upset and incredibly sad at the same time. I try to gulp it down but it stays, beating in my throat.

              Madam Jin sighs and I hear the answer in that alone. She reaches for the bourbon again, pouring another glass, fuller this time. "Yes," she simply says, looking down, and then she sips two giant gulps.

            "I—my mother!" I cry and I cannot find anything else to scream or say. "My mother is not a chess piece! She is not a pawn to get my father! How dare he touch my mother?"

              "It's a good thing you switched hospitals and left town. It was only a matter of time before he tried you to get your father out," she says. "Please do not get angry or blame your father. He only wants to keep everyone safe, even if it does not feel like it, even if it feels like abandonment. Trust me. He probably came to Lee's birthday dinner because he knew your mother wasn't around at that time and could watch and make sure you were okay without endangering everyone."

               "I'm not angry. I'm just...shocked." I run both hands through my hair and leave my hands in my scalp, tugging my hair as if to wake up from the little pinch of pain. No luck. "Where is he now? My mother's in a coma. Why isn't he here now then?"

           Madam Jin frowns, looking at me with a fragile expression. "You know why. It's too much of a risk."

           "Sorry, I'm just...hurt. Surprised. Broken. Angry. Unstable."

             "I know how it feels," she answers and from the weight of her words, I can sense she felt the same things when she learnt her son was still alive. It must've been harder for her. Thinking her family had been murdered only to realize her son had chosen to leave her in the dark about his whole plan. At least I'd thought my father had died in an accident, a less violent death. "That's why I have increased security. My security will follow you around, too. But less obviously and dressed undercover."

              My jaw almost touches the floor. This is my life now. How the hell did I get here?

            "I can't believe this is real. I can't believe I believe you. This is crazy," I repeat over and over, tripping over my own words and emotions. "This is crazy."

            "This is the truth," she sadly replies.


The entire day afterwards our talk, I go back to the dorm, put on sweatpants and a shirt, and curl up into a ball in bed all day. Giselle won't be coming back till late night. I don't know how else to handle all this news except to hide from the world under my safe blankets. It still doesn't feel real. I won't believe it until it smack hits me physically in the face.

            It's funny how months ago my most intense problems were Lee and Mark and Penny. Harmless affairs and soft lies were my main concern.

            And now, this. Life altering and dangerous news.

             Because I've let my mind wander there, I can't help but imagine those pretty blue eyes. I can't help but remember that really nice day when Lee and I ran away, leaving behind every worrisome thing. I wish so badly I could do that again. To see him.

              Even if we're not in the same place we used to be months ago, he'd at least understand. He was there throughout my mother's coma and Madam Jin's first theories. Through all my bad and good times to understand my feelings without me having to explain them. I don't know if I miss him or the aspect of him being a safety net to fall into.

              A sudden knock jolts me out of my thoughts.

              I push the blankets off of me and raise my head out of the cave I'd made with them. Who could possibly be knocking on this door now? Giselle said she'd be home either late night or tomorrow morning. Maybe the person will go away.

             Another knock.

             Or maybe not.

            Groaning, I stand and once I leave the safe cocoon of my blankets, I shiver at the cold temperature of the room. I forgot to turn on the heat again. Hopping quickly to the door to get this encounter over with, I swing the door open.

              Daniel stands there, hands in his pockets,. His hair is messy and he reps our university's dark blue sweater. His pants still have remains of the flour from earlier. But the goofball still smiles and says, "Hi."

              Though I'm in the most foul mood, I can't help but smile. "Hi, boner boy."

                His cheeks tint red. "You're never going to let that go, are you?"

             "Never," I say, grinning. I open the door wider and he steps in, standing in the middle of the room like an awkward lighthouse surrounded by the unknown sea. "You can sit, you know?"

               "Pfft, I know," he says and nonchalantly shrugs before sitting down on my bed.

                 I move past him and jump back onto my bed as well, readjusting back into my cave. He turns his body from where he sits to look at me. I lift the blankets. "You wanna cuddle?"

              He scoffs, arms crossing. "Men don't cuddle." But then he takes off his shoes and climbs over me to the wall side and slides under the blankets. He reaches for me under the blankets and I yelp at his cold hands. He grins and says, "We only firmly grasp."

            I shiver against his hands. "Hey! Why do you get the wall side?"

            "I like the wall side."

            "Well, so do I."

            "You can have it...over my dead body."

                 "Your wish is my command," I say and I start to pretend fight him, pushing against him and punching his chest.

               He laughs, taking off his glasses and putting them away, and it's just what I needed to hear because my heart automatically feels more at ease. After a minute more of me battling him, he grabs both my hands and tugs me closer until he wraps both arms around my head so I can't move. "You're trapped now."

             I pretend to fight it before quickly giving up. I smile into his neck. "I guess I am."

               Daniel eventually loosens his grip and pulls away. My head rests on his forearm and he stares at me, his other hand pushing away hair that's fallen to my face. Our legs are tangled and I have a hand over his heart, feeling every pulse. "So," he whispers, "you want to tell me what happened earlier? With the whole creepy man thing?"

                Flashbacks of the talk with Madam Jin flood my brain. Talk about my father, my mother's coma, and who I am or were or am supposed to be. I wince at all the new information and feel like throwing up.

              I trace a line under Daniel's eye, where his

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