Brennan.
They divorced in 1982.
She had one son.
Patrick Brennan.
Adrian stared at the screen.
He knew that name.
Everyone in the company did.
Patrick Brennan had worked for Whitmore Construction for almost thirty years.
He had died twelve years ago.
His son had also worked for the company.
Daniel Patrick Brennan.
Except at age twenty-one, Daniel had legally changed his surname.
To Keane.
His mother’s maiden name.
Adrian felt the room tilt.
Daniel Keane was Evelyn Keane’s grandson.
The family connection reached back to 1988.
Long before Rivergate.
Long before Marissa.
Long before Adrian had ever entered the company.
His phone rang.
Arthur.
Adrian answered.
“I found Evelyn.”
There was a pause.
“What do you mean?”
“I found who she is.”
Arthur’s silence confirmed it.
“Daniel’s grandmother,” Adrian said.
“Yes.”
“Thomas Keane’s daughter.”
“Yes.”
“The 1988 land acquisition.”
Arthur exhaled.
“You are moving faster than I expected.”
“What
I turned eighteen on a Tuesday. No cake. No card. Not even a half-hearted “happy birthday.” Just my father sitting at the kitchen table, his wife stirring sugar into her mug, and my stepbrother leaning back in his chair with that look people get when they already know how the story ends.
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