Chapter 81 Mr. Morris

Howard opened the door and stepped aside. "Ms. Peters has arrived, sir."

Taking a deep breath, I walked into the room. It was a proper library, two stories tall with floor-to-ceiling bookshelves and a rolling ladder to reach the highest ones. A fire crackled in a marble fireplace, and comfortable leather chairs were arranged nearby.

Standing by the fireplace was Gregory Morris—the imposing man I'd met briefly at Morris Industries. My grandfather. He looked even more intimidating in this setting, like an old-world patriarch surveying his domain.

"Diana," he said, his piercing blue eyes studying me intently. "Welcome home."

Home. The word felt foreign, wrong somehow. This place wasn't home. It was beautiful, yes. Impressive, certainly. But home?

"Mr. Morris," I replied, unsure how else to address him.

"Please, sit," he gestured to one of the leather chairs by the fire. "We have much to discuss."

I perched on the edge of the chair he indicated, back straight, hands clasped tightly in my lap. "I understand Bernard is on his way?"

"Yes. His flight lands soon." Gregory took the chair opposite mine. "In the meantime, I thought we might get acquainted."

Up close, I could see the lines of age on his face, the silver of his hair, but also the unmistakable strength in his posture and gaze. He looked like a man who had never surrendered to anything.

"I've read the files," I said, deciding directness was best. "About my kidnapping. About the investigation. About my birth parents."

Gregory's expression tightened almost imperceptibly. "Bernard sent you the files?"

"I asked for them," I clarified. "I wanted to understand what happened."

"And do you?" he asked, his voice softening slightly. "Understand?"

I shook my head. "Not really. I understand the sequence of events, but not... why. Why would someone steal a baby for revenge? How could anyone do something so horrible?"

Gregory leaned back in his chair, his gaze shifting to the fire. "Thomas Johnson and I were business partners once. Friends, even. When I discovered he was embezzling company funds—significant amounts—I confronted him privately. Offered him a chance to resign quietly, to avoid prosecution if he returned the money."

He paused, his expression darkening. "He refused. Denied everything. So I went to the authorities with my evidence. Johnson was convicted, served three years in prison, lost everything. His wife left him. His reputation was destroyed."

"And he blamed you," I said quietly.

Gregory looked back at me, his blue eyes intense. "He blamed me for enforcing consequences that he himself had earned. When he was released, he made threats. I increased security, naturally, but..." He trailed off, pain flickering across his normally composed features.

"But you never thought he'd target a baby," I finished for him.

"No. That level of depravity was... unexpected." Gregory's hands tightened on the arms of his chair. "Elizabeth—your mother—was devastated. She never recovered, not really."

"I saw her medical records," I said, a lump forming in my throat. "I'm sorry."

Gregory's eyebrows rose slightly. "You're apologizing to me?"

"For what happened to her," I clarified. "For what my kidnapping did to your family."

"You were an innocent child," Gregory said firmly. "The only person responsible is Thomas Johnson."

The fire crackled in the silence that fell between us. So many questions swirled in my mind, but I wasn't sure where to start.

"Why did Johnson wait so long to come after me again?" I finally asked. "If he's known who I am—"

"He hasn't," Gregory interrupted. "Or at least, we don't believe he did until very recently. Bernard follow you for a long time, in a few days ago, you didn’t have Thomas people around."

"But now he knows?"

"We believe he's recently become suspicious," Gregory corrected. "The time he focuses on you is equal to the time you join the project, and we reasonably infer that you entered his sight because of the project. It’s only Bernard’s frustration that inspires his curiosity and reveals your true identity.That’s why I oppose you."

I rubbed my forehead, trying to process everything. "So he might be watching me because I'm working on the project, not because he knows I'm Elizabeth Morris?"

"Possibly. Though the surveillance has intensified since your visit to Tokyo with Bernard." Gregory's gaze was shrewd. "Which suggests his suspicions have grown."

The implication was clear—my relationship with Bernard, whatever it was, had potentially drawn Johnson's attention.

"And Bernard?" I asked cautiously. "How does he fit into all this?"

Gregory's expression shifted subtly. "Bernard joined our family when he was seventeen. A brilliant young man with extraordinary potential, but troubled background. I recognized something in him—a determination, a drive—that reminded me of myself. He was alone in the world, and I... needed someone."

"After my father died," I said, connecting the dots.

"Yes," Gregory nodded. “Kim's death broke something in Elizabeth that could never be repaired. I found myself without an heir to continue the Morris legacy. Bernard filled that role admirably."

"And then you tasked him with finding me."

"It became his personal mission," Gregory confirmed. "Where professional investigators failed for decades, Bernard succeeded in less than ten years. His methods may seem... unconventional, but they produced results when nothing else did."

I couldn't help but notice the pride in Gregory's voice when he spoke of Bernard. Despite being adopted, Bernard clearly held a special place in Gregory's estimation.

"He didn't tell me, you know," I said quietly. "Not until yesterday. He let me believe our meeting was accidental. He let me develop feelings for him without telling me who he really was—who I really was."

Gregory's expression turned contemplative. "Bernard has always believed in acquiring complete data before making significant moves. In his mind, he needed to know you were ready for the truth."

"That wasn't his decision to make," I countered, feeling a flash of the anger I'd experienced in Bernard's office.

"No," Gregory agreed surprisingly. "It wasn't. Though I understand his reasoning."

The sound of footsteps in the hallway interrupted our conversation. The library door opened, and Bernard appeared, looking slightly disheveled from travel—a rare state for him.

"Diana," he said, his eyes finding mine immediately. “I’m back."

Despite everything, I felt a rush of relief at seeing him. "So far."

Bernard turned to Gregory. "Any developments while I was en route?"

"No change in the situation," Gregory replied. "Diana and I were just becoming familiar with each other."