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Chapter 14 - THE MAN WHO KNEW EMMA'S NAMEThe intruder escaped.

But he left something behind.

A black leather glove.

Jonathan sent it to the police.

Martha wanted to increase security around Emma.

But Emma was no longer thinking about the intruder.

She was thinking about the message.

Someone knew exactly where they would be.

Someone knew about the basement.

Someone knew about Minerva.

And someone knew Emma would understand the chessboard.

That afternoon, Emma returned to the Foundation.

A man was waiting outside the gate.

He was tall.

Gray-haired.

Dressed in an old dark coat.

The security guards had already asked him to leave.

But when Emma saw him, she stopped.

The man looked directly at her.

“Emma Wilson.”

Martha immediately stepped in front of her daughter.

“Who are you?”

The man smiled faintly.

“My name is Daniel Cross.”

Jonathan appeared behind them.

“Do you have an appointment?”

“No.”

“Then you need to leave.”

Daniel looked at Emma.

“Your father used to say the same thing.”

Emma froze.

“You knew my father?”

Daniel's smile disappeared.

“I knew him before he became rich.”

Martha stared at him.

“Leave.”

Daniel ignored her.

“Ask your mother why your father never told her about the first Minerva.”

Martha’s expression hardened.

“There was no first Minerva.”

Daniel looked at Emma.

“Your mother believes that.”

Then he walked away.

Emma watched him disappear down the street.

That evening, she asked Martha the question.

“Mom, what is the first Minerva?”

Martha said nothing.

“Mom?”

Finally, Martha sat down.

“Your father had a partner before Hartwell Technologies.”

“Who?”

“Daniel Cross.”

Emma’s eyes widened.

“Then why did Dad never mention him?”

Martha looked away.

“Because Daniel died.”

Emma frowned.

“People who are dead don't usually show up at the front gate.”

Martha had no answer.

That night, Emma found an old photograph hidden inside one of Martha’s books.

It showed two young men standing beside a chessboard.

Her father.

And Daniel Cross.

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On the back of the photograph was a handwritten sentence:

THE FIRST KING MUST FALL BEFORE THE REAL GAME CAN BEGIN.

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