C22 The brother who never existed

Alexander Hayes had faced hostile business takeovers, blackmail attempts, and boardroom betrayals without losing his composure.

But one phone call from his mother had managed to destroy the little peace he had left.

Your brother's.

He stood beside his office window, staring at the city below.

He had grown up believing he was an only child. There had been no brother's bedroom in their mansion, no childhood photographs of another boy, and no family stories about a second son.

Nothing.

How could an entire human being disappear from a family's history?

His phone rang again.

Victoria.

This time, Alexander answered immediately.

"You're going to tell me everything."

"I told you, I need to see you."

"Fine. I'll be at your house in thirty minutes."

"Alexander, please come alone."

He gave a humorless laugh.

"You've spent years keeping secrets from me. Now you want to decide who gets to hear the truth?"

"Some things are better discussed privately."

"Then you'd better have a very good explanation."

He ended the call.

A moment later, Daniel entered with another folder.

"Your mother?"

Alexander nodded.

"She claims I had a brother."

Daniel looked genuinely stunned.

"An older brother?"

"I don't know. Apparently, he existed long enough for the family to erase him."

Daniel placed the folder on the desk.

"I found something in your grandfather's old financial records. A trust was established twenty-six years ago in the name of a child identified only as H.H."

Alexander opened the folder.

"Twenty-six years?"

"Yes. The trust was funded regularly for several years. Then the payments stopped. The account was closed shortly after your grandfather's death."

Alexander studied the documents.

He was thirty years old. If the trust had been established twenty-six years ago, the child would now be approximately twenty-six.

An older brother.

A man who might have spent his entire life unaware that he belonged to the Hayes family.

"Find out who H.H. is," Alexander ordered.

"I'm already trying."

"And Daniel?"

"Yes, sir?"

"If my mother is lying again, I want to know before she finishes her sentence."

Daniel nodded.

"Understood."

As he turned to leave, Alexander added, "And cancel my afternoon meetings."

Daniel paused.

"All of them?"

"Yes."

"Even the meeting with the Singapore investors?"

Alexander stared at him.

"Do you want to explain to them why I'm distracted by a brother who may or may not exist?"

Daniel considered that.

"No, sir."

"Excellent. We're making progress."

For the first time that morning, Daniel smiled.

---

At Elizabeth's apartment, Grace had appointed herself the official manager of breakfast.

Unfortunately, her qualifications consisted of being five years old and having strong opinions about pancakes.

"Mommy, Daddy is coming for breakfast tomorrow."

Elizabeth looked up from her laptop.

"He is?"

"Yes. I invited him."

"When?"

"Yesterday."

"Grace, you cannot invite people into our home without asking me."

Grace looked offended.

"But Daddy isn't people."

Elizabeth closed her eyes.

She needed coffee.

"He's a person, sweetheart."

"He's my daddy."

"Both things can be true."

Grace considered this carefully.

"Then can people be family?"

Elizabeth smiled despite herself.

"Yes, darling."

"Good. Then Uncle Daniel can come too."

"Why Uncle Daniel?"

"Because he looks hungry."

Elizabeth laughed.

"Daniel is a grown man. He can buy his own breakfast."

Grace shook her head sadly.

"Mommy, that's not very kind."

"You're right. I'll make extra pancakes."

Grace beamed.

"That's why you're the best mommy."

Elizabeth kissed her forehead.

"You're very good at getting what you want."

"I learned from you."

Elizabeth stopped.

"Excuse me?"

Grace was already running toward her toys.

Elizabeth stared after her.

Alexander was going to hear about this.

And, judging by the way Grace had started treating her father's visits like official royal appointments, he was going to hear about it over a plate of pancakes.

---

Alexander arrived at Victoria's mansion forty minutes later.

She was waiting in the sitting room, dressed elegantly as always. But her eyes were swollen, and a half-finished cup of tea sat untouched beside her.

For the first time in his life, she looked afraid of him.

"Sit down, Alexander."

"I'd rather stand."

She folded her hands.

"I know you're angry."

"Angry doesn't begin to describe it. You told me I had a brother. Then you told me you never gave birth to another child. Now explain how both statements can be true."

Victoria stared at the carpet.

"Your father had a child before he married your mother."

Alexander went completely still.

"What?"

"Jonathan was young. He was involved with a woman your grandfather disapproved of. When she became pregnant, your grandfather intervened."

"Who was the woman?"

"I don't know her full name."

Alexander's expression hardened.

"That's convenient."

"I'm telling you the truth."

"Then tell me why I've never heard of this child."

Victoria's fingers tightened around each other.

"Your grandfather believed the child was a threat to the family's reputation and the inheritance. He arranged for the woman to leave. In exchange, he promised financial support and a future for the baby."

"And my father agreed?"

"Not willingly."

Alexander remembered the letter.

His father had signed an agreement under threat to someone he loved.

"Was this the person he was trying to protect?"

Victoria nodded slowly.

"He wanted to bring the child home. Your grandfather refused. He said the boy would destroy everything Jonathan was expected to inherit."

Alexander felt sick.

"So my father had a son, and my grandfather erased him."

"Your grandfather believed he was protecting the family."

"Stop saying that!"

His voice echoed through the room.

"Every time someone in this family does something cruel, you call it protection. You separate mothers from children and call it protection. You lie to your own son and call it protection. What exactly are you protecting, Mother? The family name?"

Victoria flinched.

"I was trying to protect you."

"From my own brother?"

"From what your grandfather had planned."

Alexander stared at her.

"Then why did you take a baby to Connecticut?"

Victoria looked away.

"Because I found out your grandfather had arranged another transfer. I thought I could get one of the children away from him."

"Which child?"

"I didn't know. The instructions were deliberately confusing. I was told to take a baby from St. Vincent's and bring him to the clinic. By the time I realized something was wrong, the child had already been moved again."

Alexander's anger faltered.

"You don't know where that baby went?"

"No."

"Do you expect me to believe you?"

"No," she whispered. "I expect you to hate me. I probably deserve it."

For several seconds, neither spoke.

Then Alexander asked the question that mattered most.

"Is my older brother alive?"

Victoria lifted her eyes.

"I believe he is."

"Where?"

"I don't know."

"What's his name?"

She reached into a drawer and pulled out an old photograph.

Her hands trembled as she placed it on the table.

The photograph showed Jonathan Hayes standing beside a young woman. He looked much younger than Alexander remembered, perhaps in his early twenties. The woman held a newborn wrapped in a pale blanket.

On the back, in Jonathan's handwriting, were five words:

My son. My greatest mistake.

Alexander stared at the photograph.

His father had known.

He had held the child.

And somehow, the boy had disappeared.

"Who is she?" he asked.

Victoria shook her head.

"I never knew her personally."

Alexander turned the photograph over again.

"Then I'll find someone who does."

He slipped it into his pocket and headed for the door.

"Alexander."

He stopped without turning.

"I loved your father," Victoria whispered. "And I loved you. I know my choices have hurt you, but everything I did—"

"Was supposed to protect the family," he finished bitterly.

He looked back at her.

"One day, Mother, I hope you understand that a family isn't a name, an inheritance, or a mansion. It's the people you refuse to abandon."

Then he left.

Victoria remained alone in the sitting room, staring at the empty doorway.

For the first time in years, she wondered whether the boy she'd helped erase from the family history might be the only person capable of forgiving her.

---

That evening, Alexander went to Elizabeth's apartment.

He had intended to tell her everything immediately, but when she opened the door wearing a comfortable sweater, her hair loosely tied back, and a smudge of flour on her cheek, he forgot his carefully rehearsed explanation.

Elizabeth raised an eyebrow.

"Why are you looking at me like that?"

"Like what?"

"Like you've forgotten how doors work."

He smiled faintly.

"Maybe I have."

She stepped aside.

"Come in before you embarrass yourself further."

He entered and glanced toward the kitchen.

"Are you baking?"

"Grace wanted cookies."

"How many?"

"Enough for a small army."

From the kitchen, Grace shouted, "Daddy! Mommy burned the first batch!"

Elizabeth gasped.

"I did not burn them!"

"They're black!"

"They're golden brown!"

"They're black, Mommy!"

Alexander pressed his lips together, fighting a smile.

Elizabeth pointed at him.

"Don't you dare."

"I haven't said anything."

"Your face is saying plenty."

Grace appeared in the doorway holding a cookie that looked suspiciously like a piece of charcoal.

"Daddy, would you like one?"

Alexander examined it solemnly.

"Did you make this?"

"No. Mommy did."

"Then I should definitely try it."

Elizabeth's mouth fell open.

"Alexander Hayes, I swear—"

He took a bite.

Grace watched expectantly.

He chewed.

Swallowed.

Then reached for another.

Elizabeth stared at him in disbelief.

"Are you insane?"

Alexander smiled.

"It's delicious."

Grace clapped.

"See, Mommy? Daddy loves you!"

Silence fell.

Elizabeth's cheeks turned pink.

Alexander nearly choked on the cookie.

Grace looked between them, completely pleased with herself.

"What? It's true."

Elizabeth covered her face with one hand.

"Grace, go and wash your hands."

"Why?"

"Because we're about to have dinner."

"But I already ate a cookie."

"Grace."

"Okay!"

She skipped away.

Elizabeth turned slowly toward Alexander.

"Don't encourage her."

"I didn't say anything."

"You ate the evidence."

He leaned closer.

"Perhaps I was trying to impress the woman who made it."

"By pretending to enjoy burnt cookies?"

"I've survived worse."

She tried to maintain her serious expression.

She failed.

Their laughter faded into a comfortable silence.

Then Alexander reached into his pocket and placed the old photograph on the table.

Elizabeth's smile disappeared when she saw Jonathan holding a newborn.

"What's this?"

"My father had another son before me."

She looked up sharply.

"Alexander…"

"He may still be alive. My grandfather separated him from his mother, and the family hid his existence. I don't know where he is, or even what name he uses now."

Elizabeth reached for his hand.

"I'm sorry."

He stared at their joined fingers.

"I keep thinking about what it would have been like if I'd known. Maybe I could have found him years ago. Maybe he wouldn't have grown up believing nobody wanted him."

"You can't change what happened before you knew the truth."

"But I can find him now."

"Then we'll find him."

He looked at her.

"We?"

Elizabeth hesitated, then squeezed his hand.

"You're not the only person who wants to put this family back together."

Something softened in his expression.

He raised her hand to his lips and kissed her knuckles.

"Have I told you lately how incredible you are?"

"Not since yesterday."

"Then I'm overdue."

She smiled.

"You're also overdue for helping me clean this kitchen."

His expression fell.

"I was having a romantic moment."

"And I was having a kitchen disaster. Love means teamwork."

He sighed.

"Do I at least get another kiss after the cleaning?"

"Depends on how well you wash the dishes."

Alexander stood immediately.

"Where's the sponge?"

Elizabeth burst out laughing.

For a few precious minutes, the secrets waiting outside their door could not reach them.

But the peace would not last.

---

Later that night, Daniel called Alexander.

"I found the identity of the woman in the photograph."

Alexander moved into the hallway so he wouldn't wake Grace.

"Who is she?"

"Her name was Evelyn Brooks. She worked as a private nurse for wealthy families. According to the records, she disappeared from New York twenty-six years ago."

"Disappeared?"

"She left her apartment, abandoned her job, and never collected the final payment owed to her. There's no death certificate, no confirmed travel record, and no trace of her after that year."

Alexander glanced toward Elizabeth, who was putting Grace to bed.

"Find her."

"There's one more thing," Daniel said.

Alexander closed his eyes briefly.

"Of course there is."

"The trust established for the child wasn't closed because the money ran out. It was closed because someone transferred the remaining funds into a new account under a different name."

"Whose name?"

Daniel paused.

"Richard Hayes."

Alexander's eyes snapped open.

"Richard?"

"Yes, sir. The transfer happened five years ago, on the same night the two boys were born at St. Vincent's."

Alexander felt a chill spread through him.

His stepbrother had been involved from the beginning.

But had Richard been protecting the missing child—or profiting from his disappearance?

Before he could respond, Daniel added one final detail.

"The account is still active."

Alexander gripped the phone.

"Where?"

"That's the strange part. The money is being used to pay for someone's living expenses."

"Whose?"

Daniel's voice dropped.

"I traced the latest payment to a residential address in Manhattan."

Alexander's heart began to pound.

"Send me the address."

Daniel did.

Alexander stared at the message.

He knew the street.

He knew the building.

Because the address belonged to a quiet residential complex less than two miles from Elizabeth's apartment.

And the name on the account was not Richard Hayes.

It was Grace Carter.