Chapter 2 - THE PAPER
I forgot how to breathe.
“What did you just say?”
Margaret blinked.
The fear disappeared from her face almost instantly.
“I said nothing.”
“You said Noah wasn’t supposed to live long enough.”
“You’re upset. You misheard me.”
Noah whimpered against my chest.
I tightened my hold on him.
“You have five seconds to explain yourself.”
Margaret glanced toward the document.
I reached down first.
“No.”
She froze.
“You don’t touch this.”
The document was a trust amendment signed by my grandfather, Charles Mercer, six months before his death.
For my entire adult life, Margaret had told me my grandfather left the family estate entirely under her control.
She said I would inherit after her death.
Apparently that was a lie.
The document said something very different.
Upon the birth of Daniel Mercer’s first biological child, controlling ownership of the Mercer family trust would transfer to that child through an independent trustee.
Noah.
The trust included the house, several commercial properties, investment accounts, and voting control of Mercer Development Group.
More money than I had ever cared to count.
Margaret had cared.
A lot.
“You knew about this,” I said.
“No.”
“You just tried to hurt the child who activates it.”
“That proves nothing.”
I pulled out my phone.
“I’m calling the police.”
She moved fast.
Her hand shot toward my wrist.
“Daniel, don’t.”
I stared at her fingers.
“Take your hand off me.”
“We can handle this privately.”
“You kicked my son down the stairs.”
“He fell.”
“You just admitted—”
“I admitted nothing.”
Noah began crying harder.
I looked toward the front windows.
My car was still running outside.
Hospital first.
Police second.
I walked toward the door.
Margaret called after me.
“If you involve the police, you will destroy this family.”
I stopped.
Then I looked over my shoulder.
“You did that when you touched my child.”
Her face tightened.
“You don’t understand what you’re carrying.”
I looked at Noah.
“He’s my son.”
“I’m not talking about Noah.”
Her eyes moved to the paper.
“I’m talking about that document.”
I turned fully.
“What about it?”
Margaret swallowed.
Then she said quietly, “Charles never signed that paper.”
I stared at her.
“My grandfather’s lawyer says he did.”
“Then his lawyer is lying.”
“Why would he?”
Margaret’s answer came immediately.
“Because if that document is real, someone in this family committed a felony twenty-eight years ago.”
And before I could ask what she meant, headlights swept across the windows.
A black sedan stopped outside.
Margaret looked toward it.
Her face went white again.
“Oh God.”
May you like
Three men stepped out.
One of them was holding a metal lockbox.
