CHAPTER 53: GRANDPA GOT KIDNAPPED BY A RAINE, DEAR

GRANDPA BELMONT

"Who are you?" I asked the young man currently carrying me fireman-style over his shoulder.

"My name’s Raine. I’ll be your kidnapper today."

"I’m not a kid."

"Your elder-napper then." He carefully put me into the backseat of a Rolls Royce and then walked to the other side and joined me in the back seat. "Would you like some water?"

"You’re very polite for an elder-napper," I said. He twisted the cap on the water bottle. I heard the snick. So, the bottle hadn’t been opened before. I accepted the water, but I didn’t drink. "This isn’t my first rodeo, sonnie. I know you can inject poison or melt sleepytime meds into a weak little plastic bottle."

Raine took the water, opened it, poured a little in the cap, and then chucked it into his mouth. "See? I’m willing to drink it."

"Fine. But only because I’m parched. It’s not like I got a lot of years left."

"That’s the spirit," said Raine.

"So where are we going?" I asked. I took a swig of water.

"I’m taking you to see my grandmother. Her name is Nettie Drop."

"Nope." I immediately grabbed the door handle. I would throw myself out of the car currently speeding down the highway rather than see Nettie "Break Your Legs" Drop again.

"Child locks," said Raine.

"Do you think the edge of the lid is sharp enough to cut my wrists? I probably have time to bleed out before we get to Nettie’s house."

"You can’t. And you don’t."

The Rolls Royce hummed along the highway, smooth as silk, but my insides were churning like a washing machine full of rocks. The young man beside me had the nerve to look calm, like he wasn’t currently committing a felony.

I took another sip of the water, eyeing him over the rim of the bottle. "You know, if you’re going to the trouble of kidnapping someone, you should at least provide snacks."

Raine chuckled. "Noted. I’ll put ’get snacks’ on my kidnapper’s checklist."

I leaned against the leather seat, staring out the window. Ash City was behind us now. Scenery blurred past. No landmarks I recognized. A lot of trees, though. "Where is she these days?"

"Still in the old house. The one by the lake."

I stiffened. That house had history. The kind that left scars.

Raine must’ve noticed my reaction because he added, "She’s had it renovated."

"You can’t renovate the memories," I responded.

Silence settled between us. Not exactly comfortable but not hostile either. After a while, Raine cleared his throat. "She’s sick."

My fingers tightened around the water bottle, making the plastic crackle. "How sick?"

"Sick enough that she asked me to bring you."

"That doesn’t mean anything. Nettie’s always been dramatic."

Raine’s expression softened. "She’s got six months."

The words hit like a sucker punch to the gut. Six months. Half a year. A blink, in the grand scheme of life.

I swallowed hard. "What’s it matter if I see her or not? We haven’t spoken in fifty years."

"Fifty-three," Raine corrected.

I shot him a glare. "You counting?"

"She is."

I rubbed my face, suddenly exhausted. "Why now? After all this time?"

Raine hesitated, then reached into his jacket pocket. He pulled out a small, worn photograph and handed it to me.

It was old. Faded at the edges. But the image was clear—me and Nettie, standing on the dock by the lake, young and stupid and smiling like the world couldn’t touch us.

I stared at it for a long time. "She kept this?"

"She’s dying, Mr. Belmont." His voice cracked, just a little. "And she wants to speak to you before she leaves this life."

***|***|***|***|***

NATHAN JANG

"Who would steal someone’s grandfather?" asked Vanessa. "Seriously!"

I put my arm around her shoulders and squeezed. "When was he last seen?"

"After the ceremony," said Malone. "Parking lot cameras show Mr. Belmont headed toward a white Mercedes parked near the east exit."

"Wait. He drove? Oh, sweet hell. He doesn’t even have a driver’s license," said Vanessa.

"He gone," said Malone. "But his car’s still there."

Vanessa made a small, wounded noise. "He wouldn’t just disappear."

No. He wouldn’t. Belmont was stubborn as hell, but he’d never bail without a word. Not on Vanessa’s wedding day.

I turned to Malone. "Pull every camera within a mile radius. Track every guest, every staff member who left after him. I want to know if anyone so much as looked at him wrong."

Malone nodded and vanished into the crowd, barking orders into his radio.

"We better tell Mom and Dad," said Vanessa, looking worried. "We should be able to track his cell phone, right?"

"Don’t worry," I told my wife. "We’ll find him."

The security feed was grainy, but the timestamp was clear: 4:17 PM. Belmont, scowling in his wrinkled suit, stalking toward the parking lot. Then—

"There." Vanessa jabbed the screen. A sleek black Rolls Royce glided into frame, blocking the camera’s view for three seconds.

Three seconds. That’s all it took.

When the car moved, Belmont was gone.

Malone cursed. "Professional."

My phone buzzed. Unknown number. I swiped open the call. "Talk."

A smooth, unfamiliar voice answered. "Please don’t worry about Mr. Belmont."

Ice slid down my spine. "Where’s is he?"

"Safe." A pause. "Don’t try to find him."

Vanessa snatched the phone. "If you hurt my—"

"Vanessa." The voice warmed, almost fond. "I can’t wait to meet you."

The line went dead.

***|***|***|***|***

GRANDPA BELMONT

The Rolls Royce rolled to a stop.

I didn’t wait for Raine. I shoved the door open the second the locks disengaged, my shoes crunching on gravel. The lake house loomed ahead, its windows glowing gold in the dusk.

Raine stepped beside me. "You two were only together for a year."

"A year is a long time to make memories," I said. "This place ... sometimes I still dream about it."

"What about Nettie? Do you dream about her?"

I shook my head. "No. I dream about my Mary. My wife. She’s the one who comes to visit me at night."

A breeze stirred the trees. Somewhere, a bird cried.

I took a step forward.

The front door swung open.

And there, framed in the light, stood Nettie Drop.

Her hair was silver now, her face lined with age, but her smile was the same—sharp as a blade. Nettie had been the opposite of Mary. A woman who wore a dagger on her thigh, smoked like a chimney, and skinny-dipped in the lake. She did what she wanted, to hell with anybody else.

I’d be lying if I said the year we’d had together was bad. It was exciting. Crazy. But not sustainable. I was the Belmont heir. She was the illegitimate daughter of the Xia Family. They never recognized her. I didn’t care. But in the end, I didn’t love her. Not enough to fight for her place by my side.

A place that had always belonged to my childhood sweetheart, Mary Lu.

When Mary returned from her studies abroad, I left. Well, more like Nettie tossed me to the curb. She was the dumper, not the dumpee

.

"Hello, Daniel," she said. "Miss me?"

The air outside was thick with the scent of pine and damp earth. The kind of smell that clung to memories, whether you wanted it to or not.

Nettie Drop.

Raine shifted beside me, patient but tense. "She’s waiting."

"She’s been waiting fifty-three years. What’s a few more minutes?"

But my feet moved anyway, carrying me toward the house like a man walking against a current. Every step felt heavier than the last.

Nettie leaned on a cane, her free hand gripping the doorframe like she needed the support. Her eyes—still that same unsettling shade of green—locked onto mine.

"Took you long enough," she said.

My throat tightened. "You sent a damn kidnapper."

"You’re not a kid," she said. "You’re a stubborn old goat."

"Aren’t kids baby goats?" asked Raine.

Nettie and I both said, "Shut up!"

Raine cleared his throat. "I’ll give you two some space." He took out cigarettes and a lighter from his inner jacket pocket and then left us alone on the porch.

"You got six months, huh?"

She shrugged. "Give or take." Nettie stepped back, gesturing inside. "You gonna stand out here all night, or are you coming in?"

I hesitated. Walking through that door felt like surrendering. Like stepping back into a past I’d spent decades burying. But the alternative—walking away now—was somehow worse.

I entered the house.

The interior was different, but the layout was the same. The fireplace still dominated the living room, though the mantel now held framed photos instead of the old, water-stained maps we’d once pinned there. My gaze snagged on one—a black-and-white shot of two of us young idiots standing on the dock, grinning happily.

I looked away.

Nettie limped to the couch, lowering herself with a wince. I sat on the couch, my joints protesting. Getting old sucked.

She studied me. "You look good for an old man."

"You look like hell."

She laughed. "Cancer’ll do that."

"I’m sorry."

"For what? Cancer? Pointless. For the end of our relationship? I’m the one who left." She reached for the water pitcher on the table and poured a glass. After taking a sip, she said, "Your heart was never mine. It always belonged to Mary."

"Did you bring me here to reminiscence? Because I’d rather not go down Memory Lane with you."

She sighed, leaning back. "I’m dying. I owe you the truth before I go."

"What truth?"

She opened her mouth, presumably to tell me the answer, but BAM! The front door burst open.

My only granddaughter Vanessa Belmont Jang stood there, her wedding dress still on, her face flushed. Behind her, Nathan and Malone looked ready for war.

"Grandpa!" She rushed forward, grabbing my arms. "Are you okay? Did they hurt you?"

I blinked. "Vanessa? What the hell—"

Then I saw Raine behind them, hands raised in surrender. "I told them you were fine."

Nettie sighed. "Well. This is awkward."