Prologue – How It All Began

In the mansion on Old Maple Avenue, that carried the quiet dignity of wealth, a perfectly groomed young man in a crisp suit opened the heavy oak door to an elegantly furnished office. Then he stepped aside, inclining his head in respectful invitation.

His companion—tall, silver-haired, somewhere between seventy and eighty, dressed in a bespoke suit—answered with a regal nod and entered.

The old man walked straight to the high-backed armchair and settled into it with deliberate, practiced weight. The young man asked, politely and a little too quickly:

“Can I get you anything, Mr. Douglas? Tea, coffee, whisky? Just say the word.”

“Water is enough. And make sure no one disturbs us.”

“Of course, Mr. Douglas.”

The young man poured water from a crystal decanter into a carved glass and placed it on the side table. Then said with an apologetic tone:

“Mr. Sanford, Mr. Clarke, and Mr. Waynes send their sincere apologies. They’re at a charity golf tournament—our firm is the primary sponsor. It’s already underway at the country club. Had we known you were coming, Mr. Sanford would have met you himself.”

“No need for apologies. I’m aware this visit wasn’t scheduled. And there’s no need for Sanford or the others. You’ll do. You can pass everything along to them.”

He paused only long enough to steady his breath.

“I won’t go in circles. I’m ill. Terminally. I want to revise my will, but before that, certain things must be verified. First, I need you to find my daughter and her child.”

The young man blinked, clearly alarmed.

“Sir… did something happen to Miss Ivory? And I had no idea she had a child. I apologize; I haven’t been keeping track…”

“Not her. She’s fine. I’m talking about my daughter from my first marriage. We didn’t part on good terms and haven’t spoken in many years. I need help finding her. No one else is to know. That’s why I came alone—straight from a medical board meeting at the hospital.”

“May I ask for more details? We’ll need whatever information you have.”

Mr. Douglas reached into the inner pocket of his jacket and produced a small notebook.

“It’s all here. In short—she left home about twenty-nine years ago, changed her name and surname. Otherwise, I’d have found her already.”

The young man let out a silent whistle in his mind, though his face didn’t betray a thing. Carefully, he began:

“With all respect, sir… we’re a law firm, not the police or a private investigator…”

Mr. Douglas cut him off sharply.

“I’m aware. Just hire a detective. I’ll cover all expenses. And keep the circle small, very small. Invoice Douglas Group for whatever legal consultation you can invent.”

“Understood, Mr. Douglas. We’ll do exactly as you request.”

“And quickly.”

“Quickly, of course. Your affairs are always our top priority.”

“Good.”

Mr. Douglas stood, slowly but without accepting help, fixing the young man with a look that made any thought of assisting him evaporate. Then, with full dignity intact, he left the office, and the mansion.

The young man escorted him to the car. The chauffeur opened the door of the polished black executive sedan. Mr. Douglas lowered himself into the back seat. Before the door closed, he looked up at the young man.

“I expect results within two weeks. A month at the latest. Do your best.”

The door shut. The car pulled away, leaving the young man standing there, caught somewhere between duty and shock.

Chapter 1

Report

On Monday morning I headed out to deliver a report. I’d just wrapped an investigation for Sanford, Clarke & Waynes—three long months digging through numbers, statements, and hidden trails.

The case involved a senior manager at a major publicly traded company. Through a shell business registered to his mistress, he had been funneling money out of the corporation.

One meticulous auditor noticed that the numbers looked suspiciously perfect, reported it to the Chairman of the Board, and they contacted their lawyers. The lawyers found me. Tracking and analyzing financial data were my specialty, so they hired me to quietly unravel the truth. Three months of relentless work, and the full report was finally ready. What happens next is their problem, not mine.

I had earned a break. A good money was coming, and the weather was perfect. I’d already decided: vacation. Seaside. Sun, water, and the luxury of letting my brain soften a little. I could almost feel the warm sand under my feet as I climbed the stairs of the mansion on Old Maple Avenue and knocked on the heavy oak door.

“Come in.”

I stepped in, placed the folder on the desk, and greeted the person behind it.

“Good morning, Mr. Van Hoven.”

“Good morning to you as well, Mr. Doe. How have you been?”

Since Mr. Van Hoven was “only” Mr. Sanford’s assistant, we could talk without excessive formality or ceremonial politeness, which made things much easier. Still, professionalism is professionalism—we didn’t forget basic courtesy.

“Well,” I said, taking a breath, “thanks to your assignment, I haven’t had a life these three months—just work. So, I’m thinking it’s time to restore some ‘work–life balance.’ By the way, don’t you find that expression odd? It puts ‘work’ first. Shouldn’t it be ‘life–work balance’?”

“You know, I’ve never thought about it, but you might be right. Unfortunately, many people don’t get to have balance in any order,” he sighed.

“You mean yourself?”

“Yes. This weekend all the senior partners were at a charity golf tournament. And it just so happened that one of our VIP clients needed urgent assistance. So, I spent the weekend here, in the office.”

“My condolences.”

“Thank you. In a sense, it concerns you too.”

“How so?”

“Details later. For now—your help is needed to locate two people. Nothing criminal, just family conflict and lost contact.”

“I’m sorry, that’s not my field.”

“I know. But I also know you used to work in the police, and you still have good connections. This case requires exceptional delicacy. It involves a massive inheritance. Any leak would be catastrophic. The client gave us two weeks, a month at most. And we cannot refuse him. I spent three days trying to find someone we could trust. No luck. Everyone reliable is already tied up. And then I remembered—you just finished an investigation for us. Maybe you could take this on? Name your price…”

He looked at me almost pleadingly.

The reality set the dilemma: the vacation I’d been daydreaming about, or a new assignment. My first impulse was to decline. As I’ve said—this wasn’t my specialty. And I desperately wanted some rest. But Sanford, Clarke & Waynes are a client worth keeping on your good side. Strategically, turning Van Hoven down would be a big mistake.

Two weeks to a month… fine. Summer had just started. I’d still make it to the coast.

“All right, Mr. Van Hoven. I’m ready to look at the initial information.”

“Excellent, Mr. Doe. You’ve saved me—you honestly have. Consider me in your debt.”

Introductory Notes

I signed a non-disclosure agreement and agreed to send the contract once I reviewed the details. Mr. Van Hoven handed me the check for the previous job, thanked me again, and walked me to the door.

Driving home, I was thinking how amazing it must feel to be so good at your craft that you get to pick your own cases and your own clients. Being able to say “no” to Sanford, Clarke & Waynes – that’s the definition of true power. It’d take years to build that kind of reputation. For now, I should be grateful that a client of this level even needs me. That alone was a major step up.

I didn’t become a private detective out of some noble calling. Investigations are simply what I do best. Health issues forced me out of the police, and I had to reinvent myself finding a new way to make a living. I knew from day one that I wouldn’t be doing the usual PI chores—spying on cheating spouses or chasing missing persons. But, as they say, never say never.

What I really hoped this case would remain the only exception. After this, I wanted to go back to my beloved numbers and financial trails.

At home, I started with lunch—some sort of small reward for finishing the case. I took out the meat I’d bought at the farmers’ market the day before, cut it into cubes, browned it lightly, added just a touch of spices, then left it to simmer on low heat until it would melt on the tongue. I’d add the remaining ingredients later.

Then came the time to look through Mr. Douglas’s notes.

I poured myself a glass of red wine, settled into the balcony chair with my feet on the ottoman, and opened the notebook.

The entries were clearly made by Mr. Douglas himself. Age had left its mark—his handwriting had lost firmness and clarity, and a few words took some effort to decipher. Thankfully, there wasn’t much – a few pages, and by the time I reached the end, I had a full picture of what he expected from me.

I was supposed to find a woman who—twenty-nine years ago(!)—ran away while pregnant and disappeared without a trace. She even changed her first and last name, meaning she did everything possible to remain unfound. Mr. Douglas didn’t state the reason for such a dramatic move. Didn’t know? Or didn’t want to?

He was, in general, stingy with details. He listed only the basics. Two documents were tucked inside the notebook: a copy of the birth certificate and a copy of the marriage certificate, plus a photograph of a young girl.

Judging by the formal dress and backdrop, it looked like a graduation photo—full-length, posed in front of a massive fireplace, the girl wearing a light dress with a voluminous skirt and her hair arranged neatly. She looked sweet, smiling broadly, radiating happiness.

This had to be the daughter I was expected to find.

Summarizing the notes and documents, I ended up with a very brief biography:

Lily Eleonora Douglas — birth name

• Height: 165 cm
• Eyes: brown
• Hair: dark, curly
• Age: 49 (today)
• Graduated from a prestigious private school
• Enrolled in the Academy of Arts in the Art Management program. A good student but didn’t finish—she fell in love with a fellow student and married him secretly, against her father’s wishes.

The birth name of her husband – William Summer Ching. Same year as Lily, three months older. Studied Sculpture.

A note added that William died—hit by a car. Lily was five months pregnant. The baby was presumed to be a boy.

That was it.

I took a sip of wine. How exactly was I supposed to find someone who deliberately vanished twenty-nine years ago? And do it in two weeks?

I enjoy a challenge, but not that much. The whole thing seemed impossible. Taking the case would almost certainly put my reputation at risk.

So, I made up my mind: I’d decline. After lunch, I’d call Mr. Van Hoven and explain my decision. I hadn’t taken an advance and hadn’t signed a contract yet, so there should be no complications.

Attempt to Back Out

As the saying goes: “Man plans, God laughs.” I hadn’t even managed to start chopping the onions for the stew when my phone rang — Mr. Van Hoven.

Well, I’d been planning to call him anyway. I sighed and picked up.

“Speaking.”

“Mr. Doe, I’m sorry to bother you, but it’s urgent. Mr. Douglas has been informed that you’ve taken the case and has requested a meeting with you.”

I froze for a second. That was fast. I hadn’t even said yes yet — I was about to decline. But I didn’t get a chance to say anything; Van Hoven pressed on without a pause.

“Mr. Douglas was admitted to the hospital in critical condition. He’s stable now and asking for you. He wants to speak with you personally.”

Well. That made refusing suddenly feel… inappropriate. A dying man wanting to fix something from his past — who knew what happened between him and his daughter? But still, I had to draw my boundaries.

“Mr. Van Hoven, I’ve reviewed the materials, and I’m not sure I can meet the timeframe you mentioned. To be honest, I don’t even know where to start, how long this could take, or what resources it would require.”

“Mr. Doe, we expected that might be your reaction. But on behalf of Sanford, Clarke & Waynes, I’m asking you to meet with Mr. Douglas. Speak to him. He’s a complicated man, but rational. I believe he only wanted to emphasize urgency, nothing more.”

I sighed internally. I dislike this kind of pressure. But antagonizing a client like this wasn’t smart.

“Fine, Mr. Van Hoven. I’ll speak with Mr. Douglas. But since the contract isn’t signed, I reserve the right to decline if he insists on impossible conditions.”

“You’re absolutely within your rights. Thank you, Mr. Doe.”

“Where should I go?”

“Mr. Douglas is at Central Hospital. Only… for the sake of discretion, you’ll need to pose as a nurse. I’ll send you the number of his assistant; he’ll meet you, give you a uniform, and take you to Mr. Douglas.”

I felt like I had stumbled into some kind of reality show. The further this went, the more absurd it became. But there was no backing out now: a claw caught — the whole bird is done for.

Van Hoven turned out extremely skilled at manipulation. No surprise actually— you don’t become Mr. Sanford’s assistant by accident. I had simply let my guard down. My bad.

“All right.”

“Thank you again, Mr. Doe. We will make sure you’re rewarded.”

I almost said, I don’t need your gratitude but held myself back. Instead, I looked regretfully at the almost-ready meat — I’d have to finish it later. I turned off the stove just as a message from Van Hoven arrived.

Time to go.

Mr. Douglas

I met Mr. Douglas’s assistant in a small café near the hospital. He handed me a full set of clothing — scrubs, cap, shoes, mask, even a badge. They had prepared thoroughly.

After I changed in the restroom, we split up. The assistant drove off in his own car, and we agreed they would wait for me in the hospital’s inner courtyard, where there was a small garden for patients.

I was supposed to walk up to them with some “medical reason” as cover — that would give us a chance to speak privately, away from curious ears. The whole thing felt more and more like a spy movie. Maybe just symptoms of an old man’s paranoia? Another argument in favor of refusing this job.

…But I have one trait I don’t particularly like yet can’t change. I try to finish what I start, if it’s at all possible. Even when it’s not in my best interest. When I was young, I left a few cases unfinished, and it still bothers me to this day. Completed cases, though — those never haunt me. The successful ones I’m proud of; the failures taught me lessons I don’t repeat…

So, I followed the instructions and entered the hospital courtyard. There I saw the assistant standing beside an elderly man in a wheelchair. That had to be Mr. Douglas himself. I had to admit he didn’t look like a lunatic. Sick, yes. But fully in possession of his faculties.

As I approached, he scanned me with a glance. I got the eerie feeling he had taken me apart molecule by molecule, understood everything about me, and pinned a neat label on top. Creepy.

I came closer, greeted him, and introduced myself as instructed:

“Good afternoon, Mr. Douglas. I’m your nurse, Philip Doe. May I accompany you on your walk?”

He nodded. The assistant excused himself. I took hold of the wheelchair handles, and we rolled deeper into the garden. Mr. Douglas stayed silent until he was sure no one was nearby. Then he asked me to stop near a bench so I could sit and we could talk.

I wanted very much to speak first, to set boundaries right away. But there was something in the man’s presence — something that crushed any unsolicited initiative. A quiet certainty that the world obliged his will. I couldn’t get a single word out.

He spoke instead.

“Have you reviewed the materials?”

“Yes, and… I think I should refuse.”

“Reason?”

“I can’t guarantee results — especially not in that timeframe.”

“Good.”

“Good? So, you don’t mind looking for someone else?” I was genuinely surprised.

“Quite the opposite. Now I’m more certain than ever that you’re the one I need.”

The logic escaped me.

“I’m not sure I understand, Mr. Douglas.”

“You passed the professionalism test.”

When did I do that? I stared at him, confused. He continued:

“You know I’m ill and could die at any moment. An unscrupulous man would sign the contract, then stall for time, making excuses — as the saying goes: either the donkey dies, or the sultan. You weren’t afraid to refuse a powerful client. That means honor and integrity aren’t empty words to you. That’s why I want you to find Lily. I believe you can.”

You know those kaleidoscope toys? A little tube with colored glass inside forms patterns, and when you twist it slightly, you see a completely different picture. That’s exactly how all my earlier impressions of Mr. Douglas shattered and reassembled. He didn’t become any clearer, but his words made me rethink my refusal.

“Very well, Mr. Douglas. I’ll try. I can promise I’ll do everything I can. But you must understand — not everything is up to me. The search area is enormous, and the starting information is minimal.”

“I understand. Put all that into your contract. And set any price you want. Don’t be shy. This contract is strictly between you and me. No one else must know — not the lawyers, not my assistant. You will report directly to me.”

“And if…”

“You want to ask what happens if I die suddenly? You must finish the job. However long it takes.”

He handed me a card.

“There’s five hundred thousand dollars on it. For expenses and your fee. If I die — keep it.”

Variables

After the meeting at the hospital, on the way home and even after I got there, I couldn’t shake thoughts of Mr. Douglas. That man knew how to leave a mark — that much was undeniable. Then again, what else should I expect? A person who built the Douglas Group from nothing was never going to be ordinary.

Apparently, I’ve spent so many years buried in numbers that I stopped reading people. Second mistake of the day. It didn’t used to happen. Well… actually, it did happen – but no need to dig up the past; it can’t be changed…

Anyway, if I’m going to continue with this job, I need to pull myself together. This isn’t a computer with neat rows of numbers. Living people require attention. To solve this task, I would need to talk to a lot of them. I’d start with the digital world, of course, but eventually I’d have to dive back into real life too.

Lost in those thoughts, I finished cooking the stew and even made a side dish and a salad — all on autopilot. Cooking is the thing I enjoy usually… not today, which was irritating…

Even eating didn’t bring joy; my brain was already searching for solutions. Eventually, I gave up. Turned on the computer, set the plate next to me, and began outlining a plan: steps, possibilities, variables.

I had no idea what Lily Douglas’s new name was. I only knew her age. And that twenty-eight years ago she gave birth to a boy. Although even that wasn’t entirely certain — ultrasounds sometimes get the gender wrong. Still, for now I chose to assume it was a boy. Demographics were on my side: statistically, more boys are born. Nature produces men with a buffer.

I started listing search options:

#1. The photograph

I could “age” her photo and run it through a facial-match program. In our world hiding is difficult. Personal or corporate social media and website – information is everywhere. So, it might work.

But everyone ages differently; lifestyle, health, even personality leaves marks. What if she had plastic surgery? Makeup alone can change a woman’s face.

Conclusion: difficult, unreliable. But still worth a try, especially because my AI assistant would do the heavy lifting.

#2. Hospitals

The child had to be born somewhere This option created two problems though:

• The number of hospitals is finite; I’d need an insane amount of time to visit them all.
• And who would give me patient information?

If only I knew why Lily ran away. That should have been my first question to Mr. Douglas. Another slap on the nose — losing my touch. Even now I was planning every possible workaround except the one that involves people.

I remembered my police days — back then, the protocols were clear. Step by step. Looks like I’d have to revisit the past.

To find a person, you need a person. Which meant I’d have to leave my comfort zone.

The first and most obvious step was to speak with William’s relatives. It was entirely possible they had stayed in contact with Lily all this time.

The fact that Mr. Douglas didn’t know could have a simple explanation — he was against Lily’s marriage. And the Ching family might have helped her in secret. Makes sense. They would want to see their grandchild.

Though… Mr. Douglas clearly didn’t.

That’s when I realized the case was full of too many unknowns. If I tried to consider every possible scenario, I’d get nowhere. To make progress, I needed to start somewhere. With the closest circle.

I couldn’t contact the Douglas family — that was off-limits.

So, I had to find Lily and William’s friends… and visit his relatives.