Chapter 110: ONE HUNDRED AND TEN

NICHOLAS’S POV

I remained standing in the middle of my room after Adrian showed me the recording, still trying to process what I had just heard.

I mean I had known Blackthorne was suspicious of us, but I hadn’t realized that his suspicion had already reached my mother.

What if he decided to harm her in a bid to get information out of her? She didn’t know anything, but it was certainly enough to send me spiralling.

Adrian watched me carefully as I stood there and his expression softened slightly.

He explained that Gareth had already discovered we weren’t staying at the hotel like he had been led to believe, which meant the excuse about our vacation wasn’t protecting us anymore.

He didn’t know exactly where we were yet, but he was clearly looking for answers, and the last thing we needed was for me to walk straight to my mother and give him another reason to become suspicious.

"I understand," I finally said, rubbing the back of my neck as I looked toward the floor. "I’ll wait. I won’t try to see her for now."

Adrian nodded, seemingly satisfied that I wasn’t going to argue anymore. He reminded me that there would be a time when I could speak to her properly without putting either of us in unnecessary danger.

After a few more minutes, he left me alone, and I finally closed my bedroom door behind him.

I stood there for a moment before looking at the envelope on my desk.

The letter.

I picked it up again and stared at the unfamiliar handwriting, wondering who had left it outside the penthouse and how they had managed to get past the security downstairs.

The fact that they had known where I was staying was already disturbing enough, but what they had written made it worse. They knew something about my father, something my mother had apparently refused to tell me.

My phone suddenly vibrated and I looked down.

Unknown Number.

My entire body went still and for a few seconds, I simply stared at the message without opening it.

For a second I felt sick as memories of my stalker ran through my head. But Jayden was dead. So it couldn’t be him. Jayden had ruined that feeling for me. Before him, receiving a message from an unknown number wouldn’t have meant anything. Now, every unfamiliar notification made me wonder who had found me and how they had found me.

I hesitated before opening the message.

"It’s me. I left the letter," was what it read.

My heart started beating faster and I typed back almost immediately. "Who are you?"

The response came a short while later. "The person who wants you to know about your father."

I stared at the screen, my fingers tightening around the phone. "How did you get my number?"

There was a pause before another message appeared. "That doesn’t matter right now. Is that really what you’re concerned about?"

I frowned because it definitely mattered to me. "It matters to me."

The person didn’t answer that question. Instead, they told me that they had known my father and that they were the one who had sent the letter because they believed I deserved to eventually know what had happened to him.

Eventually? That word immediately caught my attention and I typed fast. "What do you mean, eventually?"

I waited and the reply came several seconds later. "It isn’t time yet. I just wanted to keep in touch with you."

I stared at those four words in disbelief.

Seriously? After finally receiving something that might explain the biggest unanswered question of my life, this person wanted me to sit quietly and wait.

"Why isn’t it time?" I typed back.

No answer came. Frustrated, I sent another message. "You said you knew my father. How?"

Still nothing.

You’ve got to be kidding me.

I waited for several seconds before sending another. "Were you his friend? How did you know how he died? Did you see it happen?

I didn’t even realize how quickly I was typing until I looked at the screen and saw that I had sent message after message without giving the person enough time to answer any of them. My questions kept coming because I needed to know. Who the hell was this person?

I stopped only when I saw the small indication beneath my last message.

Read.

My breathing slowed and irritation filled me. They had read everything but there was no reply.

I checked the screen again, almost expecting another message to appear, but there was nothing.

I sent one more question, then stopped myself before I could send another.

"Why are you doing this?" I muttered, dropping the phone onto the bed.

I sat down beside it and rubbed both hands over my face.

How could I just sit back and wait until this person deemed it fit to tell me the truth?

Fuck that.

I picked up the phone again and stared at the conversation.

My entire life seemed to be filled with things people knew but refused to tell me.

For some reason, I was always the last person to find out what was happening to me.

"No," I whispered to myself, shaking my head as I locked the phone. "I’m done waiting for people to tell me what I’m supposed to know."

I had been messaging someone I didn’t know, demanding answers from a person who had already made it clear they weren’t going to give them to me. I dropped the phone onto my bed and leaned back, letting out a frustrated breath.

I picked up my phone again and opened the conversation. The last message was still marked as read, but the sender hadn’t replied.

Fuck them. They were just teasing me now. I would have ignored everything they said, but my mum’s reaction had made me wary and curious.

I typed slowly this time, making sure I meant every word before sending it. "Fine. If you won’t tell me, I’ll find out myself. Whatever you’re hiding about my father, I’ll figure it out on my own."