Chapter 5 - THE NIGHT SOMEONE CAME FOR ME
I had never been inside a bulletproof SUV before.
Now I was sitting in one while a man I'd met hours earlier ordered his security team to protect my apartment building.
My hands wouldn't stop shaking.
Kareem noticed.
"Nia, look at me."
I lifted my eyes.
"Nobody is going to force you to continue this investigation."
I laughed nervously.
"Someone just threatened me."
"I know."
"And you think I can simply walk away?"
His expression darkened.
"No. I think you deserve the truth and a safe way to find it."
He contacted the police through his attorney and provided the threatening messages.
Then he arranged temporary accommodation for me.
I refused at first.
But when security footage showed a stranger attempting to enter my apartment, I finally agreed.
Layla accompanied me to a secure guest suite in their Manhattan residence.
The apartment was larger than my entire building.
Floor-to-ceiling windows overlooked the Hudson River.
A private kitchen stood beside an enormous living room.
I felt completely out of place.
Layla seemed to understand.
"You don't have to pretend to be impressed."
I laughed weakly.
"I'm mostly worried I'll break something."
She smiled.
"Kareem has survived far worse than broken furniture."
She brought me tea.
For several minutes, we sat quietly.
Then she asked:
"Did your grandmother ever talk about Beirut?"
I nodded.
"All the time."
"What did she tell you?"
"She said the city smelled like coffee, sea salt, and jasmine."
Layla smiled sadly.
"That sounds beautiful."
"She always said she'd return someday."
"Why didn't she?"
I looked down.
"She said some doors should stay closed."
Layla became quiet.
Then she asked another question.
"Did Samira ever mention a little boy?"
I frowned.
"What little boy?"
Layla hesitated.
"Kareem and Samira were engaged. Shortly before she disappeared, people claimed she was pregnant."
My heart stopped.
"Pregnant?"
Layla nodded.
"Nobody knew if it was true."
I thought about my grandmother.
She'd had my mother, Amina, years before marrying James Brooks.
Grandma always said Amina's father had died before she was born.
My mother died when I was seven.
I remembered almost nothing about her father.
A terrible possibility formed.
"Layla..."
"Yes?"
"My mother was born in 1985."
Layla went completely still.
"Are you certain?"
I nodded.
"June 1985."
Layla slowly put down her teacup.
"Samira disappeared in October 1984."
Silence filled the room.
I could barely breathe.
"Are you saying..."
Layla reached toward my hand.
"I'm saying there's a possibility Kareem never knew he had a daughter."
My entire world seemed to tilt.
Because if Layla was right...
Then Kareem Rahal wasn't simply a man my grandmother once loved.
He might be my grandfather.
Before I could speak, my phone vibrated.
An email appeared from an address I'd never seen.
The subject line read:
THE TRUTH ABOUT AMINA BROOKS.
Attached was a scanned birth certificate.
I opened it.
My mother's name appeared at the top.
And under Father, there was a name.
Not Kareem Rahal.
May you like
Not James Brooks.
FARID RAHAL.
