Chapter 72 Tommy sees through everything

After ending the call, I sat for a moment, trying to process this new development. Was I really in danger? Or was this an elaborate ruse to bring me more firmly under Morris Industries' control?

But what if the threat was real? The evidence in Bernard's file had certainly suggested that Thomas Johnson held a long-standing grudge against the Morris family. And if he discovered that the baby he'd arranged to have kidnapped twenty-eight years ago had been found and returned to the fold...

I shivered despite the café's warmth. Better safe than sorry, I decided. I could always leave the "secure location" if it turned out to be an overreaction.

I texted Tommy: Ready to leave. James Wilson called about a security concern?

His response came immediately: Yes. I'll pull up directly in front of the café in two minutes. Look for the black Audi, not the usual town car.

The change of vehicles made this feel even more cloak-and-dagger, but I was nonetheless relieved when a sleek black Audi pulled up precisely two minutes later. I confirmed it was Tommy in the driver's seat before hurrying out to the car.

"Good afternoon, Ms. Peters," Tommy greeted me as I slid into the back seat. "I apologize for the change of plans."

"Is this really necessary?" I asked, still not entirely convinced. "Or is Bernard being overprotective?"

Tommy checked his mirrors as he pulled away from the curb. "The security team identified two known associates of Thomas Johnson in the surveillance van. Their presence is unlikely to be coincidental."

"How would Johnson even know about me?" I asked. "I thought Bernard said he didn't know I'd been found."

"We're investigating that possibility now," Tommy replied. "It may be related to your role in the project rather than your identity as a Morris. Johnson has been actively working to undermine the project for months."

That made a certain kind of sense. If Johnson was already surveilling Morris Industries employees involved with the project, his interest in me might be professional rather than personal. That was only marginally less terrifying.

As we drove toward Bernard's building, I struggled to reconcile the normalcy of the Manhattan streets outside with the bizarre turns my life had taken in the past twenty-four hours. People walked dogs, hailed taxis, window-shopped—all blissfully unaware that the woman in the passing Audi was a kidnapped heiress being taken to a secure location to protect her from the man who'd stolen her as a baby.

"Tommy," I said suddenly. "Did you know? About who I really am?"

He glanced at me in the rearview mirror. "Not initially, no. Mr. Jones is careful with sensitive information."

"When did you find out?"

"After Tokyo," Tommy admitted. "When security protocols were elevated."

"And what do you think about all this?" I asked, genuinely curious about his perspective as someone apparently caught between worlds like I was.

Tommy was quiet for a moment, considering his response. "I think finding you meant more to Mr. Jones than just completing an assignment. I've worked for him for five years, and I've never seen him as invested in anything—or anyone—as he's been with you."

I wasn't sure what to make of that. Was Tommy implying that Bernard's interest in me went beyond familial duty? The thought was both unsettling and strangely compelling.

"That doesn't address the fact that he's technically my uncle," I pointed out.

"Technically, yes," Tommy agreed. "But if I may say so, Ms. Peters, details sometimes matter less than substance."

I raised my eyebrows, surprised by his philosophical turn. "Meaning?"

"Meaning that while Mr. Jones is legally your uncle through adoption, you've had no family relationship prior to now. You didn't grow up together, have no shared family experiences or dynamics."

It sounded suspiciously like something Bernard himself might say. "Has he asked you to say this?"

Tommy shook his head. "No. Mr. Jones doesn't dictate my personal opinions. I'm merely offering a perspective you might not have considered."

I sat back against the leather seat, pondering his words. It was true that Bernard and I had no history as uncle and niece. We'd met as strangers. But that didn't change the fact that he'd known our connection while I hadn't—or that he'd allowed our forbidden relationship to develop.

"It's still complicated," I said finally.

"Life often is," Tommy replied simply, pulling up to the entrance of Bernard's building.

The doorman recognized me from my previous visit, nodding politely as Tommy escorted me inside. We took the private elevator up to the penthouse level, but instead of stopping at Bernard's floor, the elevator continued to the floor above.

"A separate guest suite," Tommy explained as the doors opened. "Mr. Jones thought you might be more comfortable with your own space."

The apartment that greeted me was gorgeous—smaller than Bernard's penthouse but still luxurious, with floor-to-ceiling windows offering a spectacular view of Central Park. Modern furnishings in soothing neutral tones created an atmosphere of understated elegance.

"This is… so comfortable," I admitted, taking in the space.