Chapter 80 Howard

Diana

A sharp knock on the door signaled it was time. With my bag in hand and my heart in my throat, I opened the door to find two serious-looking men in dark suits.

"Ms. Peters? I'm Agent Reynolds and this is Agent Chen. We're with the Morris security team," the taller one said, flashing an ID badge. "We need to move quickly."

"I'm ready," I replied, gripping my bag tighter.

They efficiently escorted me through the building, using a service elevator rather than the main one. My heartbeat thundered in my ears as we moved through the basement parking garage to an armored SUV with tinted windows.

"Is all this really necessary?" I asked as Agent Chen held the door open for me.

"Mr. Wilson believes so," he answered simply. "Please keep your phone on airplane mode during transit. Standard security protocol."

I slid into the backseat, feeling like I'd stumbled into a spy movie. As we pulled out of the garage, I noticed a second identical SUV following behind us.

"Decoy vehicle," Agent Reynolds explained from the front passenger seat, catching my questioning look in the rearview mirror. "Used procedure when transporting honour guest

."

"Honour guest" I repeated under my breath. "Is that what I am now?"

"To the Morris family? Absolutely." He turned slightly to look at me. "Finding you has been their priority for twenty-eight years."

The city streets gradually gave way to the highway as we headed north toward Westchester County. I gazed out the window, watching Manhattan recede behind us, still so unreal.

.

"How long until we reach the estate?" I asked, mostly to break the silence.

"About forty minutes, traffic permitting," Agent Chen replied from behind the wheel. "Mr. Morris is expecting you."

Mr. Morris. My grandfather. The thought sent another wave of anxiety through me.

"What's he like?" The question slipped out before I could stop it.

The agents exchanged a quick glance.

"Mr. Morris is... formidable," Agent Reynolds said carefully. "Brilliant businessman. Demanding boss. But when it comes to family..." He paused.

"What about family?" I pressed.

"Different man entirely," he finished. "Especially about you."

I turned back to the window, watching the landscape change from urban to suburban to increasingly rural and exclusive. Massive properties began appearing behind ornate gates and stone walls.

"We're almost there," Agent Chen announced after about thirty minutes.

My stomach tightened with nerves as we turned onto a private road flanked by ancient oak trees. At the end of the long driveway stood imposing iron gates with an ornate "M" worked into the design.

A security guard stepped out of a small gatehouse, checked our vehicle, then waved us through. The gates swung open silently.

"Welcome to Morris Estate," Agent Reynolds said as we drove through.

The driveway curved through manicured grounds before revealing the house itself—though "house" seemed inadequate. It was a mansion of gray stone with white columns, at least three stories tall, surrounded by gardens that probably required a team of landscapers to maintain.

"Holy shit," I whispered, craning my neck to take it all in. "People actually live like this?"

Agent Chen pulled up to the front entrance, where stone steps led to massive double doors. "This is your stop, Ms. Peters."

As I stepped out of the SUV, the front doors opened, and a distinguished-looking man in a suit appeared.

"Ms. Peters," he greeted me with a slight bow. "I'm Howard, the house manager. Mr. Morris is waiting for you in the library."

I swallowed hard, clutching my overnight bag like a shield. "Lead the way, I guess."

Inside, the foyer was grand without being ostentatious—polished marble floors, a sweeping staircase, tasteful artwork on the walls. Howard took my bag with practiced efficiency.

"This will be taken to your room," he said. "May I offer you refreshment before you meet Mr. Morris?"

"No, thank you," I replied, though my mouth was dry with nervousness. "I'd rather just get next step quickly.."

Howard nodded, then led me through the house. I tried not to gawk at the opulence surrounding me—the antique furniture, the crystal chandeliers, the clearly priceless artwork. This was wealth beyond anything I'd ever experienced, wealth that apparently was part of my heritage.

We stopped outside a set of dark wooden doors.

"The library, Ms. Peters," Howard announced, then knocked softly.

"Enter," called a deep voice from inside.