Is he alive? Is he still in Cleveland? Are we identical or fraternal? Did he receive the same notification as I did that our mother was dead? Why were we separated? Why did our mother give us up? Did she love us?
...does he know he has a brother?
Ten minutes later, they had left the crowds behind and were flying along a private street, one that curved along the length of an equally private beach. The driveways got farther and farther apart, and the houses got bigger, until finally, the palm trees opened onto an iron gate.
Jerry rolled down the window and typed in the code. A camera flashed on, and a static-ridden voice echoed over an intercom set amongst the trees.
“No office tonight, Jerry?”
“Nope.” Jerry’s eyes flashed to Logan with a faint smile, as the gate eased open and the car rolled slowly through. “We’re turning in early.”
The torches lit up, one by one, as the car sailed down the drive. Passing the clusters of tropical trees and fragrant-smelling flowers. Past the trickling fountains, offset by the gentle roar of the ocean waves. Down to the rounded driveway that opened up to the villa.
Villa. Not house. When you made enough money in this city, you purchased a villa. A breathtaking miniature palace. A shining beacon on a hill. A multi-million dollar calling card for all those other people struggling to climb the social ladder. Logan had purchased the biggest one.
“No papers tonight, Jerry.” Logan climbed out of the car the second it was parked, slinging his bag over his shoulder as he walked past the five other sports cars parked in the adjacent garage. “Tell Millard that I don’t want to be disturbed.”
Millard ran the house, while Jerry ran all the outside activities. Both did so with an iron first. Both were fiercely territorial of the man who employed them. Both had been engaged in a virtual cold war against each other for the better part of five years.
“You sure you don’t want me to tell him that he’s fired instead?” Jerry inquired casually.
Logan flashed a smile, but didn’t slow his pace. He was a man on a mission. Somewhere in Cleveland, Dylan Stone was about to get the surprise of his life. All Logan had to do was find him.
Chapter 4
Logan sat in his office the next morning. Chin in his hands. Elbows on the desk. Gazing vacantly at the computer screen in front of him. There were lights beeping anxiously on the office phone. Clients who had been waiting on hold. But for one of the first times, Logan didn’t see them. He only had eyes for the monitor.
He’d started his search the night before—settling down in his study with a box of take-out and another glass of scotch. He wasn’t anticipating any problems. How many Dylan Stones could there possibly be? As it turned out—quite a lot. But when you narrowed down the age range and city of origin, he came up with three.
One was an investment banker with four kids. One was a middle school teacher with a secret penchant for video games and Thai food. And one worked in construction.
Logan’s had eyes glowed as he studied the paper printouts, no photos, just a basic composite sent to him by a man who worked in the legal department. With nothing to go on but blind instinct, he found himself making automatic parallels to himself—prioritizing them one by one. His bet was on the investment banker. They were twins, after all. That had to count for something, right? In terms of education and vocational direction, the banker was by far the most ambitious of the three. And a family man to boot. With a little
smile, Logan traced the edges of his profile, wondering absentmindedly if he had any nieces and nephews he didn’t know about.
If it wasn’t the banker, then it was no doubt the teacher. Logan wasn’t too sure about what exactly was entailed in ‘construction,’ but unless the man ran his own construction company, he highly doubted they were related. No—the teacher would be fine. Noble, even. It was a thankless profession, and one the world needed more of. Yes, Logan could definitely get on board with the teacher. He could learn how to play video games. He liked Thai.
But fate, it seemed, had other plans...
It wasn’t the banker. It wasn’t the teacher. His Dylan was another thing entirely.
The phone rang again. This time, his secretary Annalise’s voice crackled through the intercom along with it. “Mr. Chase? You have about ten people on hold, and the Assistant Trade Secretary from Japan just called back for the second time—”
“Take a message,” Logan replied, his eyes never leaving the screen.
There was a nervous pause on the other end. ‘Take a message’ wasn’t a part of Logan’s usual repertoire. The man was on point. Never putting off for tomorrow something that he could get done today. It was a mantra he had lived his life by.
...until this morning.
“A...a message?” she repeated uncertainly. “Are you sure—”
“Yes, I’m sure,” he answered briskly. “In fact, please tell the same to everyone waiting, and hold my calls for the rest of the day. I’m in the middle of something important.”
“Yes, sir. Of course.”
With nothing left to distract him, Logan turned his eyes back to the screen. A picture of a man was staring back, grinning widely at the camera. A man that looked exactly like himself.
With a few major changes.