The Billionaire's Unwanted Love

At 4:47 in the morning, Adrian Vale was staring at the ceiling and wondering why a man who could buy almost anything in the world still couldn't buy himself a decent night's sleep. He checked the clock again. 4:47. He had checked it three minutes earlier. Still 4:47. Adrian sighed and rolled onto his side, staring through the floor-to-ceiling windows of his bedroom. Manhattan stretched beneath him in a glittering maze of lights, its towers cutting into the darkness like monuments to ambition. He preferred the city at this hour. There were no meetings. No investors demanding answers. No board members questioning his decisions. No reporters trying to turn his family's business into tomorrow's scandal. No one asking him to smile for a photograph. Just silence. And, unfortunately, his thoughts. He reached for his phone. Thirty-seven notifications. Six emails marked urgent. Two messages from the executive office. And three missed calls from his father's personal assistant. Adrian frowned. Three calls before five in the morning were never a good sign. He unlocked the phone and scanned the messages. The Singapore acquisition had moved into its final stage. The Texas energy project required approval from two regulatory agencies. Someone in London wanted his opinion about a proposed merger. Normal problems. Manageable problems. Problems he understood. He placed the phone beside him and closed his eyes. Five seconds later, he opened them again. Sleep was pointless. He got out of bed. By the time he finished dressing, his phone rang. Mara. His father's assistant. Adrian answered. "Good morning." "Mr. Vale." "You've called three times." "I know." "Which means either my father is dying or you've finally decided to become annoying on purpose." There was a short silence. "I'm going to pretend you didn't say that." "Good choice." "Your father wants you at the estate." "Now?" "He said before breakfast." Adrian's expression hardened. "Did he tell you why?" "No." "Is he all right?" "I believe so." Adrian didn't like the answer. "Did something happen?" "Not that I'm aware of." "Then give me a real answer." Mara hesitated. "Your father sounded... serious." Adrian picked up his keys. "I'll be there in twenty minutes." The drive to the Vale estate usually took forty minutes. At that hour, he made it in twenty-eight. The gates opened before he reached them. The security guards knew his car and knew better than to stop Adrian Vale at five in the morning. The mansion appeared at the top of the hill beneath the pale predawn sky. Adrian had spent most of his childhood here. That fact still surprised people. They saw his expensive suits, his company car, his apartment, his name in business magazines, and assumed he had been born into privilege. They were wrong. At ten years old, Adrian had arrived in America with a small bag and almost no understanding of the country he had been brought to. He remembered the unfamiliar voices. The rain against the airport windows. And Richard Vale. The first time the older man had looked at him, Adrian had expected pity. There had been none. Richard had simply extended his hand. Adrian hadn't taken it. He had been too frightened. Richard hadn't forced him. He had waited. Eventually, Adrian had reached for his hand. Twenty-two years later, Adrian still remembered that moment. He stepped through the front door. Margaret, the family's longtime housekeeper, was waiting. "Your father is in the study," she said. "Has he eaten?" "No." "Of course he hasn't." Adrian removed his coat. "Go back to bed, Margaret." "I'll consider it." "You won't." She smiled. "No." Adrian walked toward the study and knocked once. "Come in." His father's voice carried through the heavy wooden door. Adrian opened it. Richard Vale stood beside the windows, one hand resting on his walking cane. At sixty-four, he remained an imposing man. His silver hair was neatly combed, and his expression still carried the hard lines of someone who had spent decades making decisions other people were afraid to make. But Adrian noticed what others didn't. The stiffness in his posture. The exhaustion around his eyes. "You wanted to see me." Richard turned. "You're early." "You called me at five." "I know." "Then I assume there's a reason." Richard walked toward his desk. "Sit." Adrian did. His father remained standing. For several seconds, neither spoke. Then Richard reached into a drawer and removed a thin brown folder. He placed it on the desk. Adrian's eyes narrowed. "What is that?" "The reason I asked you to come." Adrian leaned forward. "Is there a problem with the company?" "No." "The board?" "No." "Then what?" Richard looked directly at him. "The board will announce your appointment as CEO next month." Adrian went still. "Next month?" "Yes." "You said it would happen after the Chicago conference." "I changed my mind." "Why?" Richard lowered himself into his chair. "Because I'm tired." The words struck Adrian harder than expected. His father had never admitted to being tired. Not during twenty-hour negotiations. Not during the financial crisis. Not even after major surgery. Adrian's expression changed. "Are you sick?" "No." "Then what is this?" Richard pushed the folder toward him. "Something I've been putting off." Adrian didn't touch it. "What?" "Your past." Adrian's stomach tightened. "I know my past." "No." Richard's voice was quiet. "You know the version of your past I gave you." Adrian stared at him. "What are you talking about?" Richard opened the folder. Inside were photographs, old documents, newspaper clippings and medical records. Adrian picked up the first photograph. A young woman stared back at him. Dark hair. Pale skin. A tired but beautiful smile. He didn't recognize her. "Who is she?" Richard didn't answer. Adrian looked up. "Who is she?" "Her name was Clara." "Who was Clara?" Richard's eyes met his. "Your mother." The photograph nearly slipped from Adrian's fingers. "My mother is dead." "Yes." "You told me she died before I was born." "I told you what I thought you could handle." Adrian's jaw tightened. "You lied to me." "I protected you." "From what?" Richard looked away. "The night you came into this family wasn't an accident." Adrian stared at him. "What does that mean?" Richard pushed another document toward him. It was a police report. Adrian scanned the first page. His breathing changed. A warehouse fire. Two bodies. One missing child. His child. Adrian looked up. "I was there?" "You were found nearby." "By whom?" Richard said nothing. "Who found me?" "I did." Adrian froze. "You told me you found me through an adoption agency." "I lied." The room suddenly felt smaller. "Why?" "Because there were people looking for you." "Who?" "I don't know." Adrian's eyes hardened. "You're lying." Richard's expression remained grim. "Maybe." That answer frightened Adrian more than a denial would have. He picked up another photograph. It showed the warehouse burning. A younger Richard stood in the foreground. And in his arms was a small boy. Adrian. His phone vibrated. Unknown number. One message. You were never supposed to survive that night. Adrian slowly looked at his father. Richard had seen the message. His face had gone pale. "Who sent that?" Adrian demanded. "I don't know." "You're lying again." "I've spent twenty-two years keeping you safe." "Then start telling me the truth." Richard looked toward the window. "There are things in that folder that should never have survived." "What things?" "Names." "Whose names?" Richard didn't answer. Adrian took the folder. "I'm going to find out." "Adrian, listen to me." He stopped at the door. "You don't understand what you're dealing with." "Then explain it." "I can't." "Why?" "Because the people responsible may still be watching." Adrian stared at him. "You think they're still alive?" Richard said nothing. That was answer enough. Adrian left. He drove back to Manhattan with the folder beside him. By eight-thirty, he was inside Vale Meridian Group headquarters. His employees straightened when he passed. Assistants hurried to meet him. "Good morning, Mr. Vale." "Cancel my morning meetings." His executive assistant blinked. "All of them?" "Yes." He entered his office and closed the doors. For the next hour, Adrian studied the documents. There were too many inconsistencies. His adoption had been finalized unusually quickly. His mother's name had been listed as unknown in the police report. Yet Richard had possessed a photograph of her. And the fire had occurred only hours before Richard supposedly found him. Adrian reached for the phone. "Daniel." His CFO answered. "Good morning." "I need the corporate archives." "How far back?" "Twenty-two years." Daniel paused. "Why?" "Look for anything involving a company called Marlowe Energy." The silence on the other end was immediate. Adrian noticed. "You know the name." "I've heard it." "From where?" "It's an old company." "Find everything." "I'll see what I can." Adrian ended the call. A knock sounded at his door. He expected Daniel. Instead, a woman walked in. She carried a leather folder against her chest. Dark hair fell loosely around her shoulders. She wore a fitted black blazer and white blouse. But it wasn't her appearance that caught Adrian's attention. It was her complete lack of fear. "Who are you?" he asked. "Elena Marlowe." Adrian went still. Marlowe. The same name he had just given his CFO. "I'm an investigative journalist," she added. "What do you want?" "The truth." "About?" "Vale Meridian." "You walked into a restricted executive floor without an appointment." "I was invited." "By whom?" "Your public relations department." "They don't invite journalists into my office." "They do when the journalist has questions they don't want answered." Adrian studied her. Most people reacted to him. Elena didn't. She simply opened her folder and placed a photograph on his desk. Adrian's blood ran cold. The warehouse. The fire. His father. The same night. "Where did you get this?" "My father." "Victor Marlowe?" Her eyes narrowed. "You know his name." "I know everyone who has done business with my family." "My father never did business with your family." "Then why does he have this?" "That's what I'm trying to find out." She pulled out another document. "My father was investigating Vale Meridian twenty-two years ago." Adrian stared at her. "He disappeared shortly afterward." "Disappeared?" "He left home one night and never came back." Adrian looked at the photograph again. "Why come to me?" "Because you're about to become CEO." She held his gaze. "And because I think you may be the only person inside Vale Meridian who doesn't know what happened." Adrian's expression hardened. "You think my father killed yours." "I think someone did." "And you expect me to help you?" "No." She closed the folder. "I expect you to help yourself." She turned toward the door. "Elena." She stopped. "Whoever sent me that photograph knows about me." "I know." "How?" Her expression softened for the first time. "Because they sent me one too." Adrian's eyes narrowed. "What photograph?" Elena looked back at him. "Your mother." She walked out. Adrian remained frozen behind his desk. His phone rang. His father's number. He answered immediately. "What?" Richard's voice was low. "Did a woman named Elena Marlowe come to see you?" Adrian's blood ran cold. "How do you know her?" Richard was silent. Then he said the words that changed everything. "Because her father wasn't investigating us." Adrian gripped the phone. "Then what was he doing?" Richard's voice dropped to a whisper. "He was looking for you." The call ended. Adrian stared at the phone. For twenty-two years, he had believed he was the heir to a powerful empire. Now he wasn't sure what he was. A billionaire. A CEO. An adopted son. Or a child who had somehow survived a night someone desperately wanted forgotten. And somewhere in the city, someone was watching. Waiting. Because the truth Adrian Vale had spent his entire life running from had finally found him.