Grayson arrived at the airport and arranged for a private jet to take him to New York. During the flight, he reviewed the information he had gathered about Charlotte Emrys, Alison's mother. Charlotte was originally from Hawaii and was an only child. She had been a victim of sex trafficking in Waikiki and was brought to West Virginia, where she met and fell in love with Jefferson Emrys. They had two sons together, but there was no mention of a third child—Alison.
After landing in a private airport, Grayson got off the plane and hailed a taxi to Charlotte Emrys' residence in Central Park South. He wondered how she could afford to live in such an expensive area, considering her humble background.
Approaching the receptionist at the residence, Grayson noticed a flicker of recognition in her eyes, as if she had been expecting him.
"Can I help you, Mr Hawthorne?" the receptionist asked politely.
"I would like to see Charlotte Emrys," Grayson replied, trying to maintain his composure despite his nerves.
The receptionist nodded and pressed a button on her computer. Four imposing bodyguards appeared from the nearby elevator, ready to escort Grayson.
"Mr. Hawthorne, they will escort you to Ms. Emrys' room," the receptionist informed him, pointing towards the guards.
"Thank you," Grayson said, keeping a low profile.
As they reached Charlotte Emrys' floor, Grayson was surprised to discover that an entire floor of the hotel was designated for Emrys' residents. The security guards led him to a lounge area with a view of the park.
"Wait here," one of the guards instructed, leaving Grayson with the remaining three. Grayson assumed the guard had gone to inform Charlotte Emrys of his arrival. This situation reminded him of when he and Jameson had tried to meet his father, but they weren't allowed inside the building. They had to wait in the limo until Sheffield Grayson's security team granted them permission to enter. In this case, Grayson had managed to make it inside without going through such hurdles.
It wasn't long before the doors opened, and the security guard returned with a woman whom Grayson assumed was Charlotte Emrys. She looked different from Alison, with curly brown hair similar to Xander's and hazel brown eyes. She wore a long dark green dress and heavy makeup.
"Oh my! To what do I owe the pleasure, Mr Hawthorne?" she exclaimed, taking a seat across from him. She waved her hand, signaling her security guard to leave, and they did, except for one who remained near the door.
"Hello, Ms. Emrys-" Grayson began to introduce himself, but she interrupted him.
"Please, call me Ms. Akana. Charlotte Emrys was an old name I used to go by."
Grayson found this intriguing. He crossed his feet and folded his hands on his knee.
"Ms. Akana, with all due respect, I would like to ask you about your daughter, Alison Emrys," Grayson said, fixing his cuffs.
Ms. Akana shifted uncomfortably, trying to change the subject. She offered a weak smile and gestured towards a plate of cookies on a nearby table. "Perhaps you'd like a cookie, Mr. Hawthorne? They're home-made, a family recipe."
Grayson appreciated the gesture but stayed focused, politely declining the cookies. "Thank you, but I'd prefer to focus on the matter at hand."
There was a noticeable change in Ms. Akana's demeanor as she locked eyes with Grayson. Her complexion grew pale, and it was clear that his question about Alison had struck a nerve. "I don't know what you're talking about, Mr. Hawthorne."
Grayson spoke softly but firmly, "According to Harvard University student files, Alison Emrys is listed as your child."
Ms. Akana's eyes widened, and she whispered, "I... I don't have a daughter."
"Please," Grayson continued, his voice steady but gentle, "Ms. Akana-"
"She is not my daughter," she interrupted Grayson, her voice filled with venom and defensiveness. "Alison Emrys is not my daughter."
Grayson felt a mix of confusion and frustration as he tried to make sense of the situation. Something didn't add up. If Alison wasn't Ms. Akana's daughter, then why was her name connected to Charlotte Emrys in the files he had uncovered? Unless Ms. Akana wasn't telling the truth.
Grayson shifted in his seat. "Do you know Mason Val-" He was about to ask a crucial question when he was interrupted again.
"Mr. Hawthorne, I can only offer my sincerest condolences for your recent loss. It must be incredibly challenging for you, having lost your grandfather and being disinherited."
Grayson paused, his mind processing the mention of his grandfather's death and his disinheritance. She's just trying to get to you, Grayson assured himself. He realized that approaching the answers directly might not lead to the desired results. Grayson decided to approach the conversation from a different angle.
"Why did you move from Hawaii, Ms. Akana?" Grayson asked, shifting the topic. "I've heard it's a beautiful place."
A gentle smile returned to Ms. Akana's face, and she seemed more at ease. "Yes, it was a beautiful place."
Grayson nodded. "It was, wasn't it? Before the sex trafficking."
Ms. Akana's smile faded, and a look of shock and fear replaced it. She searched Grayson's eyes, silently pleading for an explanation.
"You were a victim, sent to West Virginia, where you met Jefferson," Grayson persisted. "He helped you escape, and the two of you fell in love-"
"Stop," she pleaded desperately.
But Grayson didn't stop. "Together, you had two sons, William and Hudson."
Ms. Akana tried to change the subject, her voice shaking. "Mr. Hawthorne-"
Ignoring her attempt, Grayson kept going. "But you also had a daughter, a beautiful girl named Alison Emrys."
Ms. Akana, now visibly frightened and saddened, was shuddering as Grayson's words sank in. "I-"
Grayson held her gaze firmly and interrupted her. "You and Mr. Emrys divorced three years ago, and you moved here while he stayed in West Virginia."
Even at 19 years old, Grayson Hawthorne radiated authority and power beyond his years.
For a moment, Ms. Akana stared at Grayson, her eyes hard. She shifted her gaze to the park outside the window, avoiding direct eye contact with him. A single tear rolled down her cheek, and her once-soft voice turned cold and stern as she repeated her denial. "Alison Emrys is not my daughter." Ms. Akana shifted back to face Grayson, their eyes locked. "You should go, Mr. Hawthorne."
As the bodyguard stationed by the door approached Grayson, insisting that he leave, Grayson nodded in acknowledgment and followed the man outside. He took one final glance at Ms. Akana, studying the woman's appearance. She seemed slightly calm, but her hands were fidgeting.
Thoughts of his own mother, Skye, surfaced, and he couldn't help but compare her to Ms. Akana. Skye, flawed as she may be, at least acknowledged Grayson as her son. She didn't deny his existence or try to hide it behind a facade.
Filled with frustration and a lingering sense of uncertainty, Grayson's mind became resolute. There was only one person now who held the key to the answers he sought – Alison's father, Jefferson Emrys.