Chapter 11 - MY MOTHER’S CONFESSION
My mother asked to see me.
I refused twice.
The third time, Rebecca told me why.
“She wants to cooperate.”
That got my attention.
Eleanor Mercer looked different without the burgundy handbag, expensive coat, and perfect hair.
She sat behind glass in a private interview room.
For once, she had nothing to control.
I sat across from her.
She looked at me for a long time.
“How is Noah?”
I almost stood up.
“You don’t get to ask that yet.”
She lowered her eyes.
Fair.
“Why did you do it?”
She knew I wasn’t talking about one thing.
Victor.
The money.
Grant.
Me.
Noah.
All of it.
“At first?”
She swallowed.
“I thought I was saving the company.”
The oldest excuse in the Mercer family.
“The Monterrey project would have ruined us.”
“So you forged Victor’s approval.”
“Yes.”
“And he died.”
“I didn’t know the structure would collapse.”
“But you knew it wasn’t safe.”
She started crying.
I felt nothing.
Maybe that made me cruel.
Or maybe I had simply spent all my tears already.
“Then why steal the money?”
“Because Daniel knew.”
Blackmail.
Daniel demanded payments.
My mother created North Crescent to disguise them.
Then Grant discovered what she was doing.
Instead of exposing her, he joined her.
They began siphoning additional money.
What started as blackmail became greed.
“What about my shares?”
She looked ashamed.
“Your grandfather gave you enough voting power to stop a sale.”
“So you altered the records.”
“Grant did.”
“You knew.”
“Yes.”
“And when I found the invoices?”
“We needed you gone.”
There it was.
My mother had spent two years telling everyone I couldn’t handle the company because she was terrified I could.
“What about Elias?”
“We investigated him.”
“Why?”
“Because Vale Capital was buying our debt.”
“And Noah?”
Her face broke.
“I never wanted anyone to hurt Noah.”
“You told Daniel where I was giving birth.”
“I thought he was watching Elias.”
“You brought papers into my hospital room hours after I gave birth.”
“I needed your signature.”
“You told me you would never recognize my son.”
She began crying harder.
I leaned toward the glass.
“Do you know what the worst part is?”
She shook her head.
“If you had simply hated me, I could understand it.”
“But you loved me.”
Her face crumpled.
“And you still did all of this.”
She covered her mouth.
I stood.
“Claire.”
I stopped.
“I am sorry.”
I looked back at her.
“I believe you.”
She stared at me.
“But being sorry doesn’t erase consequences.”
Then I left.
Her cooperation gave police what they needed.
Bank accounts.
Passwords.
Properties.
Daniel’s emergency contacts.
One location stood out.
An abandoned warehouse near the old rail yards.
Police arrived forty minutes later.
Daniel wasn’t there.
But his laptop was.
And on that laptop was a scheduled email.
It was addressed to every major newspaper in Guadalajara.
Attached were hundreds of Mercer documents.
Some genuine.
Some altered.
The email would send automatically in eighteen hours.
Its subject line read:
THE MERCER FAMILY KILLED VICTOR HALE.
May you like
Daniel wasn’t trying to escape anymore.
He was preparing to burn everything down.
