Chapter 8: The Man Behind the Secret
I stared at the name written on the paper.
Ethan Cole.
Jordan’s biological father.
A man I had heard about but never met.
According to Jasmine, Ethan had left when Jordan was young.
He was unreliable.
Selfish.
Someone who disappeared whenever responsibility appeared.
I had never questioned that story.
Now I questioned everything.
The address was thirty minutes outside Atlanta.
A small house in an older neighborhood.
Nothing like my home.
Nothing like the lifestyle Jasmine had been trying to maintain.
I knocked.
The door opened almost immediately.
A man stood there.
Late fifties.
Tired eyes.
Gray hair.
He looked at me for several seconds.
Then sighed.
“You’re Marcus.””
I frowned.
“You know who I am?””
He nodded.
“I’ve been expecting you.””
That sentence made my instincts scream.
“What does that mean?””
He stepped aside.
“Come in.””
I didn’t move.
“Why did Jasmine send me here?””
Ethan looked down.
“Because she ran out of places to hide.””
I walked inside.
The house smelled like coffee and old books.
Nothing about it suggested a man hiding a criminal empire.
“Tell me the truth,” I said.
Ethan sat down.
“Which part?””
I stared at him.
“All of it.””
He nodded slowly.
“Jordan made a mistake.””
“I know.””
“No.””
He looked at me.
“You know about the accident.””
I froze.
“What else is there?””
Ethan leaned forward.
“My son has been trying to fix something for a year.””
“What?””
“He wasn’t protecting himself.””
I narrowed my eyes.
“Then who?””
Ethan looked at me.
“Malik.””
I clenched my jaw.
“Everyone keeps saying that.””
“Because it’s true.””
I waited.
Ethan sighed.
“After the accident, Jordan discovered Malik had taken the blame.””
“What?””
“Malik told people he stepped into the road.””
My heart sank.
“Why?””
“Because Jordan was drunk.””
I looked away.
My son.
He had protected Jordan.
But why?
“Jordan wanted to confess.””
“And?””
“Jasmine stopped him.””
I felt anger rising.
“Why?””
“Because she was afraid.””
“Afraid of what?””
“Losing everything.””
The answer was becoming painfully familiar.
Ethan continued.
“Jordan’s mistake could have destroyed his future.””
“So she covered it up.””
“Yes.””
“And the debt?””
Ethan looked uncomfortable.
“The debt came later.””
“What debt?””
“Someone found out.””
My expression hardened.
“Who?””
Ethan hesitated.
“People who wanted money.””
My jaw tightened.
“Are you saying Jordan was being blackmailed?””
“Yes.””
The pieces started connecting.
The money.
The threats.
The fake signature.
The hidden payments.
“Why didn’t Jasmine tell me?””
Ethan gave a sad smile.
“Because she knew you would choose Malik.””
That sentence hurt because it was true.
I would have.
Immediately.
My son’s safety would always come first.
And maybe Jasmine knew that.
Maybe that was why she kept digging deeper.
“Where is Jordan now?””
Ethan looked toward the window.
“He went to meet them.””
My body went still.
“What?””
“He wanted to end this.””
“When?””
“Tonight.””
I stood up.
“Where?””
Ethan looked at me.
“You’re going to hate what I say.””
“Try me.””
He handed me a piece of paper.
An address.
A warehouse.
The same kind of place where people disappeared in movies.
Except this was real.
Before I left, Ethan stopped me.
“Marcus.””
I turned.
“Jordan isn’t the person you think he is.””
I frowned.
“What does that mean?””
“He made a terrible choice.””
A pause.
“But he spent a year trying to protect your son.””
I didn’t answer.
Because I didn’t know what I felt anymore.
Anger.
Confusion.
Maybe even sympathy.
But one thing was clear.
I needed to find Jordan.
I arrived at the warehouse just after midnight.
The building was dark.
Too quiet.
I stepped inside.
“Jordan!””
No answer.
Then I heard voices.
Behind a metal door.
I moved closer.
And stopped when I heard Jordan speaking.
“I’ll pay the rest.””
A man laughed.
“You don’t have the money.””
“I’ll find it.””
“You already took from your stepfather.””
My blood ran cold.
The man continued.
“You think he won’t notice?””
I opened the door.
Everyone turned.
Jordan froze.
“Dad?””
The man standing across from him smiled.
“Well.””
He looked at me.
“Marcus Williams.””
My stomach tightened.
Because I recognized him.
Not personally.
But from somewhere else.
From the documents.
From the bank records.
From the name connected to the fake loan.
The man smiled.
“You’ve been looking for answers.””
I stepped forward.
“Who are you?””
He laughed.
May you like
Then said:
“The person your wife has been paying to keep quiet.””
