Chapter 4 - THE PERSON BEHIND GRANT
My first thought was my father.
I hated myself for it.
But he saw the question on my face.
“It wasn’t me.”
“How do I know?”
“You don’t.”
That answer was strangely reassuring.
He wasn’t demanding trust he hadn’t earned.
Rebecca arrived twenty minutes later.
She read my grandfather’s note under a document camera while investigators verified the handwriting.
North Crescent wasn’t Grant’s company.
He was protecting someone else.
There were only a handful of people with enough access to move that much money through Mercer Development Group.
My father.
Grant.
The chief financial officer.
Two board members.
And my mother.
I almost dismissed the thought immediately.
My mother had never shown any interest in operations.
She cared about charity galas, social connections, reputation, and whether our family photograph appeared in the right magazines.
Then I remembered something.
The folder.
Grant has a buyer waiting.
Not your father.
Grant.
And she had known exactly how many shares they wanted me to surrender.
Rebecca asked the question I was afraid to ask.
“Who established North Crescent?”
My father looked at her.
“We never found out.”
“Who introduced the first vendor contract?”
He hesitated.
“My wife.”
My stomach dropped.
My father stared at the floor.
“Twenty years ago, Eleanor’s cousin owned a materials company.”
“My mother has a cousin?”
“Had.”
I had never heard of him.
“His name was Victor Hale.”
Rebecca began typing.
My father continued.
“He died twelve years ago.”
“And North Crescent?”
“Appeared four years later.”
Rebecca stopped typing.
She turned her laptop toward us.
The registered agent for North Crescent Holdings had previously worked for Victor Hale.
My father closed his eyes.
“No.”
I understood his reaction.
He had spent his life believing Grant was his successor.
But he had spent even longer believing my mother was his partner.
Rebecca looked at him.
“Mr. Mercer, I need access to every personal financial record associated with your wife.”
He stood.
“You’ll have it.”
Then the hospital door opened.
My mother walked in.
She was carrying flowers.
Nobody spoke.
She looked at the laptop.
Then at my father.
Then at Rebecca.
“What are you doing here?”
My father asked.
“I came to see my daughter.”
I almost laughed.
“You came to see me?”
She ignored the sarcasm.
Her eyes moved to Noah.
“I thought perhaps yesterday became unnecessarily emotional.”
Unnecessarily emotional.
My father stood.
“Who was Victor Hale?”
The flowers slipped slightly in her hands.
Just slightly.
But we all saw it.
She recovered quickly.
“My cousin.”
“Why have our children never heard his name?”
“He died.”
“That wasn’t my question.”
Her face hardened.
“Richard, not here.”
“North Crescent.”
That did it.
The flowers fell.
The vase hit the floor and shattered.
Noah startled and began crying.
Elias immediately stepped between my mother and the bed.
She stared at my father.
“You went through my files?”
“What is North Crescent?”
“I don’t know.”
“Eleanor.”
“I said I don’t know.”
Rebecca closed her laptop.
My mother looked at her.
Then she looked at me.
And suddenly the anger disappeared.
She smiled.
It was worse.
“You really think you understand what you found?”
I held Noah tighter.
“Explain it.”
She picked up her handbag.
“Ask your father what happened in Monterrey in 2009.”
My father went white.
She walked toward the door.
He grabbed her wrist.
“What does Monterrey have to do with this?”
She pulled away.
“Everything.”
Then she left.
I looked at my father.
“What happened in Monterrey?”
He sat down slowly.
For the first time since entering the room, he couldn’t look at me.
“Someone died.”
“Who?”
May you like
He whispered the name.
“Victor Hale.”
