Reading every article she could find about Lennox Drayton. The more she read, the more something felt wrong. All these stories about him helping children, donating to hospitals, saving families from medical debt.
But there was something cold about it. Something performative. Like he was trying to prove something.
Or hide something. She found a video of him giving a speech at one of his galas. “Every child deserves a chance,” he said into the microphone.
Cameras flashing. People clapping. “No family should have to choose between their child’s health and their financial survival.”
Beautiful words. But his eyes stayed empty. Skye watched the video three times.
By the third time, she was sure. This man was connected to her somehow. She didn’t know how.
She didn’t know why. But every instinct in her body screamed that Lennox Drayton was part of the life she couldn’t remember. The life before Elias.
The life that left her in the cold. Three days later, the TV was on at home. Same channel.
Same segment about Lennox’s charity work. Elias walked out of the kitchen carrying two mugs of tea. He saw the screen.
And froze. His whole body went rigid. He moved fast.
Grabbed the remote. Changed the channel. “Hey,” Skye said, “I was watching that.”
“You don’t need to watch that.” “Why not?” “Just rich people showing off. That’s all it is,” Skye stood up.
“You’re doing it again.” “Doing what?” “Acting weird whenever his name comes up.” Elias put the mugs down hard.
Tea splashed onto the table. “I’m not acting weird.” “Yes, you are.”
“You know him, I can tell.” “I don’t know him, Skye.” “Then why do you get so tense every time I mention him?” “I don’t.”
“Stop lying to me.” The words came out louder than she meant. Sharper.
Elias’s face changed. Anger mixed with something else. Fear, maybe.
“Watch your tone.” “Tell me the truth then.” “There’s nothing to tell.”
Skye felt frustration boiling over. “Every time anything about money or rich people comes on, you shut down. You won’t talk about my past.”
“You won’t tell me anything about before the hospital. What are you hiding?” “Some things are better left alone.” “My life isn’t a thing,” she was yelling now.
Couldn’t stop herself. “I deserve to know where I came from, who I was. Why I can’t remember anything before I was seven.”
Elias’s jaw clenched. “You want the truth? The truth is you almost died. I found you and saved you.”
“That’s all that matters.” “That’s not all that matters. What about my real family? My real name? What if someone’s looking for me?” “Nobody’s looking for you.”
The words came out too fast, too certain. Skye stepped back. “How do you know that?” Elias realized his mistake.
His face went pale. “I just meant, how do you know nobody’s looking for me unless you know something you’re not telling me?” Silence, heavy and thick. “Elias.”
She used his name, not dad. “What did you do?” “I saved your life.” “That’s not what I asked.”
He turned away. Ran his hands through his hair. “You wouldn’t understand.”
“Try me.” “No.” “Why not?” “Because you’ll hate me.”
His voice cracked. He spun back around, eyes red. “You’ll hate me and you’ll leave and I can’t.”
He stopped, breathed hard. “I can’t lose you.” Skye’s anger faltered.
She’d never seen him like this. Breaking, desperate. “What did you do?” she asked again.
Quieter now. Elias shook his head. “I can’t tell you.”
“Not yet. Maybe not ever.” “That’s not fair.”
“Life’s not fair, Skye. You should know that by now.” The words stung.
She grabbed her jacket. “Where are you going?” “Out.” “Skye.”
“I need air.” She walked out. Slammed the door behind her.
Stood on the porch, breathing hard. Heart racing in that dangerous way. Inside, she heard something crash.
Elias hitting the table, maybe. Or throwing something. Then silence.
She sat down on the steps. For the first time in years, she wondered if Elias really was her father. Or if that was just another lie in a life built on lies.
Skye’s teenage years didn’t come with glow-ups or miracles. They came with exhaustion. By 14, she was working 20 hours a week on top of school.
Babysitting. Tutoring. Washing dishes at the diner whenever Joe needed extra hands.
Homework happened on bus rides or late at night while Elias snored on the couch, still wearing his work boots. She grew up faster than her body was ready for. Her heart condition didn’t magically disappear either.
Some days were okay. Other days sent her back to the emergency room, chest tight, breathing wrong. Elias pacing the waiting room like a man being hunted.
Skye hated hospitals. Too bright. Too white.
Too expensive. But she went when she had to. Took her pills every morning.
Tried not to think about how much each one cost. The fight with Elias left a crack between them that never fully healed. They still lived together.
Still ate dinner across from each other. Still pretended things were fine. But something had changed.
She didn’t call him dad anymore. Just Elias. He noticed.
Never said anything. But she saw it hurt him. Good, she thought sometimes.
Then felt guilty for thinking it. School became her escape. Not the social part.
She still didn’t fit in. Still sat alone at lunch. Still wore clothes that didn’t quite match because she bought whatever was cheapest at the thrift store.
But the learning part? That she could do. Her memory made everything easier. Read something once.
Remember it forever. Teachers started noticing. Pushing her toward advanced classes.
Talking about college like it was possible. Skye didn’t let herself hope. College cost money they’d never have.
But she studied anyway. Late nights in the library. Free internet.
Free heat. Free quiet. She taught herself things school didn’t cover.
Basic coding. Financial literacy. How systems worked.
How money moved. She didn’t know why it mattered. Just felt like knowledge was the only thing poverty couldn’t take from her.
One evening she stayed late working on a research paper. The school computer screensaver flickered on. A Draytech logo.
Her stomach dropped. The school’s internet system ran on Draytech technology. Donated by Lennox Drayton’s foundation three years ago.
She stared at the logo until the librarian told her it was closing time. Walking home, she couldn’t stop thinking about it. Lennox’s name was everywhere once you started looking.
Technology. Charity. Hospitals.
Schools. Like he was trying to touch every part of society. Or control it.
She wanted to ask Elias again. Demand answers. But the last fight had been bad enough.
So she stayed quiet. And the silence grew heavier every year. At 16 she got her first real paycheck.
A data entry job. Remote. Flexible hours.
$10 an hour. It wasn’t much. But it was hers.
She started saving differently now. Not just loose bills in a jar. A real bank account.
Plans. She didn’t know what the plans were yet. Just knew she needed options.
Because living like this. Scraping by. Barely surviving.
One emergency away from losing everything. Wasn’t sustainable.
Something had to change. Elias noticed her pulling away. Working more.
Talking less. “You okay kid?” “Fine.” “You sure?” “Yeah.”
Same conversation. Different day. He wanted to fix it.
She could tell. But he didn’t know how. Neither did she.
The truth sat between them like a wall. Growing taller every year. One night she came home late from work.
Found Elias at the kitchen table. Drunk. He never drank.
Couldn’t afford to. But there he was. Bottle in front of him.
Head in his hands. “Elias?” He looked up. Eyes red.
Face wrecked. “I’m sorry,” he slurred.
“For what?” “Everything. All of it. You deserved better.”
Skye stood in the doorway. Unsure what to do. “Go to bed.”
“You’re drunk.” “I should have told you. Should have been honest from the start.”
Her heart jumped. “Told me what?” He shook his head. “Can’t.”
“Can’t do that to you.” “Elias.” “You’re the only good thing I ever did.”
“The only thing. And it’s built on—” He stopped. Swallowed hard.
“On something broken.” “What does that mean?” He didn’t answer. Just put his head back down.
Skye waited. Hoping he’d keep talking. Hoping he’d finally tell her.
But he passed out instead. She stood there for a long time. Staring at him.
Then she went to her room. Pulled out her laptop. Searched Lennox Drayton again.
This time she dug deeper. Past the charity headlines. Past the success stories.
She found smaller articles. Buried stories. Mentions of a daughter who died.
Years ago. No details. Just a footnote in his biography.
“Survived by no immediate family.” Skye’s hands shook as she read it. A daughter.
Dead. Her age would have been right. The timeline matched but that was impossible.
She was alive. Unless someone declared her dead when she wasn’t. Unless someone erased her.
The room felt too small suddenly. Too hot. Her heart did that wrong rhythm thing.
The dangerous kind. She closed the laptop. Lay down.
Tried to breathe. But sleep didn’t come. Just questions.
And a growing certainty that everything she thought she knew about her life was a lie. Curiosity became habit. Habit became obsession.
By 17, Skye spent every free hour researching Draytech Global. Not because she had proof yet. Not because she knew for certain.
But because that company felt like a shadow following her life. Something connected. Something wrong.
She started with the public stuff. Annual reports. Press releases.
Charity announcements. Everything looked clean on the surface. Perfect even.
But Skye had learned that perfect usually meant hiding something. She dug deeper. Financial disclosures that didn’t quite add up.
Charity events that cost more to throw than they actually raised. Tax documents with weird gaps. Nothing illegal exactly.
Just off. Like someone was very good at making things look better than they were. The more she read about Lennox, the less she liked him.
Every interview was the same. Polished. Rehearsed.
He talked about helping people but never seemed to actually care about them. His eyes stayed cold in every photo. His smile never reached them.
One night, she found an old article from 12 years ago. Back when Draytech was smaller. Before Lennox became famous.
The article mentioned a personal tragedy that drove his charitable work. “After the loss of his daughter, Drayton dedicated his life to ensuring no child would suffer as she did.” Skye read it three times.
His… daughter. The one who supposedly died. She clicked around.
Found more mentions. Always vague. Never detailed.
Just… “Drayton’s late daughter” or… “the tragic loss that changed everything.” No name. No photos.
No real information. Like she’d been erased from public record. Skye’s chest tightened.
She opened a new search. Typed carefully. “Lennox Drayton daughter death certificate.”
Public records. Death certificates were public in most states. She searched for hours.
Different databases. Different years. Nothing came up.
No death certificate. No obituary. No funeral announcement.
Either it was sealed or it didn’t exist. At three in the morning, she finally found something. An archived news story from 15 years ago.
Small local paper. Barely a paragraph. “Billionaire’s daughter missing after mountain incident.”
“Search called off after three days. Presumed deceased.” Presumed.
Not confirmed. Skye’s hands shook as she read the rest. “Due to severe weather and terrain difficulty, recovery efforts were suspended.”…
