THE PRICE OF A PROMISE

CHAPTER SEVEN:THE NAME IN THE FILE

CHAPTER SEVEN

THE NAME IN THE FILE

Clara didn't move.

The photograph remained between her fingers as she stared at the three people standing outside the hospital.

Her nanny.

The mysterious man.

And the little boy.

She had spent twenty years believing she knew almost everything about the woman who raised her.

Apparently, she didn't.

"Clara?"

She looked up.

The man who had brought her into the room was still standing by the door.

"Are you all right?"

Clara quickly turned the photograph facedown.

"Yes."

It came out too quickly.

The man studied her for a moment before nodding.

"Take the photograph with you."

Clara's eyebrows pulled together.

"Why?"

"Because it belongs to you more than it belongs to us."

Before she could ask what he meant, he left.

Clara slipped the photograph into her bag.

She had no intention of asking her nanny about it.

Not yet.

Something told her she needed to find out the truth herself.

That evening, Clara sat in front of her laptop with the photograph beside her.

She typed the family name into the search bar.

The results appeared almost instantly.

Her eyes widened.

The family wasn't just wealthy.

They owned hotels, technology companies, private investments, and several properties across the country.

Their name appeared everywhere.

And then Clara saw something that made her sit up straighter.

One of Stanford's major academic buildings had been funded by the family.

She scrolled further.

There were old articles.

Photographs.

Interviews.

Business reports.

Then she found an article from years ago.

The headline made her stop.

"TYCOON FAMILY WELCOMES NEW HEIR."

Clara clicked it.

The article was about the family's son.

But there was something strange.

The boy in the photograph looked different from the transfer student.

Much younger, obviously.

But the eyes—

Clara stared at them.

There was something familiar.

She closed the article.

"No."

She shook her head.

She was connecting things that might not even be connected.

Her nanny had nothing to do with that family.

There had to be another explanation.

Clara reached for her phone.

A notification appeared.

She expected another message from the unknown number.

Instead, it was a message from the university competition group.

**Reminder: All participants must attend tomorrow's preliminary evaluation.**

She sighed.

The competition.

For a few minutes, she had forgotten about it.

The one thing she couldn't afford to forget.

Her nanny's hospital bills were still piling up.

The competition was still her best chance.

And whoever was behind those messages wasn't going to stop her.

Clara closed her laptop.

Then she heard a knock.

She froze.

Not again.

She looked toward the door.

Another knock.

This time, she grabbed her phone before approaching it.

"Who is it?"

No answer.

She slowly opened the door.

Nobody was there.

Clara stepped into the hallway.

Then she noticed someone standing at the end of it.

The transfer student.

He was leaning against the wall, his hands in his pockets.

He looked completely calm.

As though he hadn't just appeared outside her room in the middle of the evening.

Clara's eyes narrowed.

"You."

He looked at her.

"Me."

"What do you want?"

"Nothing."

"Then why are you here?"

A faint smile appeared on his face.

"Maybe I like the hallway."

Clara didn't smile.

"You know something."

His expression changed slightly.

"About what?"

"My nanny."

For the first time, he didn't immediately answer.

That was enough.

Clara stepped closer.

"You know her."

He looked away.

"You're asking the wrong question."

"Then what should I ask?"

He looked back at her.

"Ask yourself why she never told you about that family."

Clara's heart dropped.

He knew.

He knew about the photograph.

"You were there," she whispered.

He didn't deny it.

"I saw you leave the administration building."

"How?"

"Stanford isn't as big as you think."

"Did you send the messages?"

His eyes remained on hers.

"Which messages?"

"The ones telling me you know who I am."

He was silent.

Too silent.

Clara's pulse quickened.

"Answer me."

He stepped closer.

"I know you're hiding something."

Clara swallowed.

"And you?"

A small smile crossed his face.

"I'm hiding plenty."

Before Clara could respond, her phone vibrated.

Both of them looked down.

Unknown Number.

Clara opened the message.

Her face went pale.

There was only one sentence.

**Ask your nanny why she left her son at St. Mary's Hospital twenty years ago.**

Clara stopped breathing.

Her fingers went numb.

She slowly looked up at the transfer student.

He wasn't smiling anymore.

For the first time since she'd met him, he looked genuinely shaken.

Clara looked back at the message.

Then at him.

"How..."

Her voice barely came out.

"How do you know about my nanny's son?"

The transfer student's expression hardened.

He stared at the phone in her hand.

And for several seconds, neither of them spoke.

Then he whispered:

"Because..."

He stopped.

Clara waited.

"Because that story isn't what you think it is."

Her phone vibrated again.

Another message.

This time, there were only four words.

**He is closer than you think.**