Chapter 7
A strange feeling washed over Noah as he looked at Blake. There was something...familiar about him. The birthmark on his neck, the Morgan surname... they stirred memories of Aleksa, a woman he had loved years ago. She had been a passionate secret amidst his arranged marriage. When his wife, Jane Jones learned that Aleksa had borne him a son, she advised him to take custody of the child, as she didn't want to ruin her figure by giving birth. He had readily agreed, eager to claim a part of himself he hadn't known existed.
Aleksa was Adam's biological mother. When he learned she was pregnant, he did everything he could to convince her to give him the child, promising her everything. But Aleksa refused, her eyes blazing with resentment, her lips uttering a curse, "Over my dead body. I will not let you have our son as long as I live." In a desperate act, driven by a possessive love, he bribed Aleksa’s twin brother, Jordan Morgan, to bring him Adam, a dark stain on his conscience. Afterward, he wondered why Aleksa never tried to find her son. According to her other brother, Daniel Morgan, Aleksa had left home to live in another city with a new lover. The Morgan family hadn't heard from her since.
Noah had asked Blake about his mother, but her name was Monique Morgan, not Aleksa. After Blake left, Noah made a call to investigate Monique Morgan's identity. Those who knew her said she had died when Blake was ten. Others claimed to be relatives, but they lived near the dumpster, so there’s no way he knew Blake’s mother.
Leaving the Blackwell Incorporation office in the late afternoon, Blake felt a knot of anxiety tighten in his stomach. He needed a place to stay, and the allowance Henry Blackwell had provided was a big help to him to secure a shelter from cruel winter season. He set out to find a room, hoping to find something, anything, that was better than the streets.
Downtown, the air was thick with the smell of exhaust and street food, a sensory assault that stood in stark contrast to the sterile, climate-controlled environment of Blackwell's office. He scanned the buildings, searching for a "room for rent" sign. The city's noise and crowds pressed in on him. He was getting tired, his hope dwindling with each passing block, but he refused to give up.
After another half hour of searching, his gaze landed on a faded sign hanging above a narrow doorway. A small apartment building with a vacancy. He entered the dimly lit lobby, the air heavy with the scent of dust and air freshener, and approached the owner, an old woman with a stern face etched with years of hard living.
"Hello, I’m looking for a room to rent. Do you have any available?" Blake asks politely.
The owner eyed him up and down, her gaze lingering on his new but simple clothes. "Yes, I have one room left. But it's not cheap. How much money do you have?"
Blake reaches into his pocket and pulls out some bills. He hopes it is enough. He hands it over to the owner, who counts the bills and nods.
"Alright, this will do for now. But don't make any noise or trouble, or I'll call the cops. Got it?" The owner says harshly.
Blake nods and says, "Yes, ma'am. Thank you."
The owner gives him a key and tells him the room number then turns away and ignores Blake.
Blake climbs the creaking stairs, the old wood groaning under his weight. He reached the small room. He looked around. It is a cramped space with just a bed, a small closet, a shaky table, and a couple of chairs. He mumbled,“This is better than sleeping on the street.” And soon he will move to Blackwell’s mansion, just a few more days enduring the poor life, after that welcome back party he will become Adam Blackwell. He sighed. He remembers his mom. If only she was still here for sure she would get angry from what he is doing. In the past, she always warned him to stay away from these rich people in town, the Moores, Blackwells and even the Morgans from which she came from.
For her they are all cruel people. His mother was Aleksa Morgan but she used the name Monique Morgan, and made the people believe she is poor and had to live with relatives near the dumpster where impact she has no relatives there, they only live with the cousins of his good for nothing stepfather who sent him out of his mother house when his mother died in sickness and claimed the house as his own and bring there his mistress. The very reason why he grew up on the street… homeless.
A cold wind rushing in through a gap in the window jolted Blake back to reality. He slammed the window shut; the loud noise echoed in the small room. He sank onto the bed, the thin mattress offering little comfort. His shoulders ached, and a dull headache throbbed behind his eyes. He pulled off his sweat-soaked shirt, the damp fabric clinging unpleasantly to his skin.
He closed his eyes, the weight of his deception pressing down on him. "What am I doing?" he wondered. "Is this worth it?" But the image of a warm bed, a full stomach, and a life free from the constant struggle pushed back the doubt. Exhaustion pulled him under, and he drifted into a restless sleep, haunted by fragmented memories of his mother's warnings.