the driver asked.
“The lake house,” Stanton said. “But stop by the office first. I need to check something.”
Stanton’s place outside the city sat in an upscale gated community about twenty miles from downtown. The three-story stone house was surrounded by a manicured yard and a high fence with security cameras. The guard at the gate nodded as the car rolled in. Stanton returned the gesture through the window and asked the driver to stop at the front entrance.
“You can head home, Greg,” he said as he got out. “Don’t need you till morning.”
The house greeted him with silence and dim light. His wife and daughter were in Europe for the week. Back-to-school shopping. The sort of family image that looked good in glossy brochures for investors. In reality, his marriage had long since become a business arrangement held together by convenience and habit.
Stanton went into his study, switched on the desk lamp, and poured himself a whiskey. The day’s events required some serious sorting out. The obvious place to start was the federal operation at the Imperial. If Vance really was being charged with laundering money, then the bank acquisition was dead. Worse, Stanton himself could be called in as a witness—or more.
But that wasn’t what held his attention.
Alex Keller. The boy who may have saved him from arrest. And possibly his son.
Stanton took a drink and grimaced. Fifteen years earlier, when his career was just taking off, he had been seeing Nina Keller, a gifted financial analyst on his team. She was smart, attractive, ambitious—the kind of woman who could have been the perfect partner for a man on the rise. Then she told him she was pregnant.
At the time, Stanton was on the edge of a deal that could either launch him or ruin him. He asked Nina to end the pregnancy. Children were not part of his plan. She refused. They fought, and he told her he wasn’t about to rearrange his life for a child he hadn’t wanted. After that, they never saw each other again. Nina quit the firm, and Stanton, swept up in the rush of his own success, put the whole thing behind him. The deal went through, his career took off, and before long he married the daughter of one of his investors. It was less a love match than a merger.
And now the past had shown up at his table in a torn jacket.
If Alex really was his son, why had Nina never asked him for anything? And how had the boy found out who his father was?
Stanton opened his laptop and checked his email. Among the flood of messages was one from corporate security: a preliminary report on the events at the Imperial. The dry language confirmed his worst concern. Arthur Vance and several other businessmen had been detained on suspicion of running a money-laundering operation. Stanton was listed as a witness, but his name also appeared among those subject to review.
He closed the email and opened a search engine. “Nina Keller.” Too many results. He narrowed it: “Nina Keller financial analyst.”
One result led to an old business magazine article: “Young Professionals to Watch in Finance.” In the group photo, Stanton recognized himself from fifteen years ago, and beside him Nina—slim, dark-haired, intelligent eyes, a slight half-smile.
His next search was more specific: “Nina Keller Imperial restaurant.” No results. That meant little. Information about a cleaning worker at an upscale restaurant wasn’t likely to turn up online. Stanton leaned back. He needed better information. He picked up the phone.
“Boris, it’s Stanton. I need a favor. Run down a woman: Nina Keller, around forty. Might be working on the cleaning staff at the Imperial. Also her son, Alex Keller, thirteen or fourteen. I want everything you can find.”
Boris Levin headed Stanton’s security division. Former federal law enforcement. Still had friends in useful places.
“Something serious?” Boris asked.
“I’m not sure yet. But I need answers by morning.”
“You’ll have them,” Boris said, and hung up.
Stanton checked the time. Nearly midnight. He was exhausted, but sleep wasn’t happening. He walked to the window and pulled back the curtain. Moonlight washed the yard in silver. Fifteen years ago he had made a choice that seemed perfectly rational. No child. No Nina. No distractions. That decision, like dozens of others, had built the life he now lived. Wealthy. Successful. And, in its own way, hollow.
What if he had chosen differently? What if he had stayed? What if he had accepted the child?
He dismissed the thought with a shake of his head. Pointless. He had never been a man to second-guess his decisions or indulge in sentiment. And yet the sight of that boy—so much like him—had opened a door he had kept shut for years. Had he spent his life chasing the wrong things?
He turned back to the desk. Nina’s old photo still glowed on the screen. Soft features. Open expression. A faint smile. Could he ever have imagined she’d end up scrubbing floors in the same restaurant where he was negotiating multimillion-dollar deals?
His phone buzzed. A message from Boris: “Initial info in one hour.”
Stanton went to the kitchen, made strong coffee, and returned to the study. Half an hour later, the laptop chimed. Boris worked fast. Several documents had arrived. Stanton opened the first.
“Background on Nina Keller. Nina Alexandra Keller. Born 1982. Graduated with honors from State University, economics degree. Worked as analyst at FinCapital from 2007 to 2009. After leaving, held several jobs—secretary, office manager, retail sales. Since 2015 employed at the Imperial restaurant in janitorial services. Unmarried. Son: Alex Michael Keller, born 2010.”
Stanton read the last line twice. Alex Michael. That settled it.
He opened the next document.
“Current address: 14 Lower Street, Apartment 78. However, according to local sources, neither Nina Keller nor her son has been seen there in the past two weeks. Neighbor reports Nina took time off work and may have gone to stay with relatives.”
Stanton frowned. Nina had taken leave, but Alex had said his mother worked at the restaurant. And why had the boy been there alone?
