started with a lie ➳ raura revised

Chapter Fifty-One

"I adopted your father when I was around twenty-seven. I could not have my own so instead, I adopted. Back then, I lived in Shanghai, my business beginning to thrive at the heart of China. I moved to America for a while to globally expand. To keep myself grounded from the materialistic lifestyle I'd begun to lead, I volunteered at an orphanage every few days, mostly weekends. There was a little boy who always had the brightest blue eyes and an unforgettable smile. That was your father.

"I wasn't married. I didn't need to be. I was a flourishing businesswoman and could handle adopting a child alone without strains. I wanted a family, my own kid. He is the best thing to have ever happened to me," Madam Jong exclaims, looking down at her lap and smiling to herself. I want to reach out and hold her hand, but I don't know where we stand with each other to do so.

"He grew to be bright. Brilliant. Handsome. I gave him everything he could ever need but kept him humble. A bit of a troublemaker during his younger years, but a fine man he was...," she says, sighing. Even though she had stopped crying earlier, a tear quickly forms and streams down her face immediately. She doesn't even try to wipe it.

"What...what happened?" I ask. Madam Jong has been giving me background, facts about my father, who he was—is—was—I don't know. The facts give me a little more information to soothe my worries and curiosity but she still hasn't gotten to the deep and dark secret that was so serious that she had to enforce her best security division on my mother.

"My company hit the jackpot. Your father became the new president and I became chairwoman." "How's that a problem? Isn't that good?"

"Let's just say not everyone was happy." She plays with a diamond ring on her middle finger, twirling it around and caressing the jem. "Workers who had been there for a long time, since the beginning of the empire I'd created, were not content with the news that your father would just get the company passed down to him. This was a misunderstood concept and everyone believed your father did not deserve it..but he did. He worked just as hard as anyone. Went to Harvard and then Yale to excel his degrees. Spent endless nights working and gave customers all of him. I think what angered people the most was that we weren't blood-related. But they were wrong. Your father is my son, blood or not. I trusted him more than any of the power and money hungry people under me."

"So what happened?" My stomach gets an uneasy feeling, like mixing in warm and cold in the pit of my belly.

"Around this time, he fell for your mother, Ellen—oh, Grace, sorry. She was a freelance artist, promoted in various indie exhibits and magazines. Contemporary art with a twist. They met at an art gallery, argued about her painting, and the rest is history. At this time, there were only strikes going on at work. Some quit. Others hid their opinions even though they felt the same. It was getting bad. I hired a new vice president who everyone approved of and it was quiet. For a while. Your brother came along and then you. I was a happy grandmother—busy, but happy.

"And then one day, there was an attempt on your father's life."
I audibly gasp, my breath being physically affected by this statement.

"It didn't succeed. Someone had tried to poison your father with carbon monoxide but thank god, there were detectors nearby in his office." She pushes back a string of hair and from the way she's fidgeting, I can tell these memories aren't the most comforting to remember. "I was very shaken up. I never suspected it to get that far."

"Who was it?"

"We didn't know for the longest time," she explains. "Most people had quit and not every worker had access to your father's room. Only certain. The list of suspects was short but it was hard to find the person. Security cameras had been wiped out and security themselves had been bribed. We ran several thorough investigations."