Chapter 67 Dangers in unknown

"Thomas Johnson doesn't know we've found you," he said, his expression deadly serious. "If he were to discover your identity, it could put you in danger. The security measures aren't just corporate paranoia—they're for your protection."

"So I'm supposed to just trust you on that? After everything?" I couldn't keep the bitterness from my voice. "After you kept our... family relationship... a secret while letting me develop feelings for you?"

Bernard flinched visibly at my words. "Trust the evidence," he replied after a moment. "The file will show you everything we know about Johnson and his operation. His connection to your kidnapping. His current efforts against Morris Industries. And yes, the details of my adoption into the Morris family."

I nodded stiffly. "Fine. Send me the file. I'll review it."

"I'll have Vivian deliver a secure tablet to your apartment this evening," Bernard said. "The information is too sensitive for email."

"Of course it is," I muttered, turning to leave.

"Diana," Bernard called once more, stopping me again. "I'm sorry. Not for finding you—I could never be sorry for that. But for the way it happened. For not being forthcoming about our family connection. For... Tokyo."

I felt sick again at the reminder. My uncle. I'd kissed my uncle. Adoptive or not, the thought made me want to scrub my skin raw.

"I'll let you know when I've reviewed the file," I said flatly. "Good night, Bernard."

I walked out of his office, past Vivian's workstation where she studiously avoided eye contact, and straight to the elevator. My mind was racing, my emotions in complete chaos. I needed to get away from this building, away from Bernard and his revelations and his apologies.

Did Vivian know? Did everyone know? Had they all been watching me develop feelings for my own uncle, laughing behind my back at my ignorance?

Outside, the evening air was cool against my flushed face. I started walking, needing the physical activity to help process the emotional overload.

I was Diana Morris. Not Diana Peters. I'd been kidnapped as a baby. My whole life had been built on a lie. And the man I'd been falling for was my uncle.

I pulled out my phone, wanting to call someone, to talk this through. But who? What would I even say? "Hey, guess what? I just found out I'm actually an heiress who was kidnapped as a baby and my hot but creepy boss has been watching me for a year trying to bring me back to my birth family. Oh, and by the way, he's also my uncle, and we've been developing feelings for each other. How was your day?"

I almost laughed at the absurdity of it all.

After walking aimlessly for several blocks, I found myself in a small park. I sank onto a bench, finally letting the tears come. I cried for the life I thought I'd had, for the mother who'd raised me not knowing I'd been stolen, for the birth mother who'd lost her mind from grief. I cried for the feelings I'd been developing for Bernard—feelings that now seemed sick and wrong, despite his assurances that we weren't blood related. And I cried for myself—caught in the middle of a situation I couldn't begin to comprehend.

My uncle. Bernard was my uncle. Every time the thought surfaced, I felt physically ill.

My phone buzzed in my pocket. I pulled it out, half-expecting to see Bernard's name. Instead, it was Nathan.

"Hey stranger! Haven't heard from you in days. Drinks tonight to catch up?"

I stared at the message, wondering how I could possibly explain any of this to Nathan. He had been right to be suspicious of Bernard from the beginning. But even his worst assumptions couldn't have predicted this reality.

"Not tonight," I texted back. "Having a weird day. Talk tomorrow?"

His response came quickly: "Everything OK? You know I'm here if you need me."

I smiled weakly through my tears. "I know. Just processing some stuff. I'll call you tomorrow."

I put my phone away, wiping my eyes with the back of my hand. I needed to get home. Vivian would be sending the file Bernard had promised, and if I was going to make any sense of this situation, I needed to know everything.

The subway ride to my apartment was a blur. People moved around me, living their normal lives, completely unaware that the woman sitting across from them had just had her entire identity upended.

When I finally reached my building, I was surprised to see Tommy waiting by the entrance with a small package.

"Ms. Peters," he said, then hesitated. "Or, I suppose—"

"Diana is fine," I cut him off, not ready to hear any other name. "Is that from Bernard?"