Chapter 8 - AN UNEXPECTED VISITOR
In the autumn of 2026, on a crisp October afternoon, a sleek silver sedan pulled up the long driveway of the Cross estate.
Marcus Vance, now serving as the director of estate operations rather than a tactical captain, stepped out to meet the visitor. From the passenger side stepped an elderly woman with silver hair, wearing an elegant dark navy coat and carrying a walking stick. Her eyes were sharp, intelligent, and filled with a mixture of hope and anxiety.
Nathaniel, who was in the courtyard helping Titan practice fetching a wooden ring with Lily, paused as Marcus approached with the guest.
"Boss," Marcus said softly, his voice full of respect. "You have a visitor. She drove all the way from Boston."
The elderly woman stepped forward, her eyes locking onto Nathaniel’s face. She stopped, her lower lip trembling slightly as she looked at his eyes, his mouth, the structure of his jaw.
"Nathaniel?" she whispered, her voice fragile.
Nathaniel frowned politely, standing up and dusting the dirt from his knees. "Yes? May I help you, ma'am?"
The woman reached into her handbag with trembling fingers and pulled out a small, faded photograph framed in worn silver. She held it out to him.
Nathaniel took the photograph. His heart skipped a beat.
In the picture was a young girl standing beside a grand piano, smiling radiantly. Sitting on the piano bench beside her was a younger version of the woman standing before him.
"My name is Margaret Hayes," the woman said, tears welling up in her eyes. "I am Eleanor Cross's older sister. Your aunt."
Nathaniel felt a surge of emotion wash over him. "My... my aunt? My mother always told me she had no family left..."
"Arthur cut her off from us," Margaret explained, her voice choked with decades of suppressed sorrow. "When Eleanor married Arthur Cross, he made sure she was completely isolated from everyone who loved her. When she died... Arthur told us that you had died as well in the incident. He told us there was nothing left for us in Chicago."
Margaret looked past Nathaniel, her eyes falling upon Clara and Lily, who were standing near the rose garden watching quietly.
"I read about the foundation in the national papers last month," Margaret continued, stepping closer and gently touching Nathaniel’s arm. "I saw your picture, Nathaniel. You have your mother’s eyes. Exactly her eyes. I knew I had to come before my time was up."
May you like
Nathaniel stared at his aunt, the last living link to his mother's innocent past. For twenty-one years, he had believed he was entirely alone in the world, an orphan born of blood and betrayal. Now, standing in the sunlight of his home, he realized how many doors the truth had opened.
"Come inside, Aunt Margaret," Nathaniel said, his voice thick with emotion as he offered her his arm. "There is someone I want you to meet."
