My son Daniel. My grandson Nathan.
My breathing stopped.
“Daniel is your father,” Richard said.
“And James Brooks was your grandfather.”
I looked at the photograph again.
“Why did my dad say he was dead?”
“That,” Richard replied, “is the condition.”
I looked up.
Richard opened the envelope and removed a second document.
“Your grandfather knew your father would attempt to claim the estate after his death.”
“Why?”
“Because your father already tried once.”
My fingers tightened around the paper.
“When?”
“Six years ago.”
I shook my head.
“My dad never mentioned any inheritance.”
“He wouldn’t.”
Richard slid another document toward me.
It was a legal notice.
At the top was the name Brooks Holdings.
Below it were several signatures.
One of them belonged to my father.
“He attempted to have himself declared your grandfather’s only surviving heir,” Richard said.
“But James refused.”
“Why?”
“Because your grandfather had already made his decision.”
Richard pointed to the final paragraph.
“He changed his will.”
I swallowed.
“To me?”
“To you.”
My heart pounded.
“But why?”
Richard looked at me for a long moment.
“Because your grandfather had been watching you.”
I almost laughed.
“Watching me?”
“Yes.”
“For seventeen years?”
“Yes.”
“Then why didn’t he ever contact me?”
Richard’s face changed.
“He tried.”
I went still.
“What do you mean?”
“Letters were sent.”
“How many?”
“Thirty-two.”
My mouth went dry.
“Thirty-two?”
“Birthday cards. Christmas letters. Photographs. Invitations.”
I stared at him.
“I never received any.”
“I know.”
Richard opened his briefcase again and pulled out a file.
Inside were copies of envelopes.
All addressed to me.
Nathan Brooks.
My childhood address.
My school address.
Even my name written in handwriting that looked strangely familiar.
“I don’t understand.”
Richard placed the file on the hood of my car.
“Your grandfather hired a private investigator six years ago.”
“Why?”
“To find out why you never answered.”
I looked at him.
“And what did he discover?”
Richard hesitated.
“Your father had been intercepting the mail.”
Silence.
The alley suddenly felt too small.
“My father?”
“Yes.”
I shook my head.
“No.”
Richard didn’t argue.
