Chapter 15 - THE TRUTH MY DOCTOR HID
Claire took me to a private office before I could argue.
“You’re seeing a cardiologist today.”
“I have a shareholder meeting.”
“The meeting can survive without you.”
“I’m fine.”
“That sentence should be illegal after sixty.”
Despite myself, I smiled.
Then she started crying.
I stopped.
“Claire.”
“You could have something wrong with your heart.”
“So could anyone.”
“Dad.”
I pulled her into my arms.
“All right.”
“You promise?”
“Yes.”
“No pretending?”
“No pretending.”
That afternoon, an independent cardiologist examined every test Alan Mercer had ordered.
Two hours later, he gave us an answer.
I did have the inherited condition.
But it was manageable.
Medication.
Monitoring.
Lifestyle changes.
No immediate catastrophe.
Claire cried again.
This time from relief.
I looked through the hospital window and thought about the irony.
Alan had betrayed me.
Yet by testing me secretly because of a family secret, he might also have discovered something that could save my life.
People were rarely simple.
Not heroes.
Not villains.
Not even cowards.
Alan Mercer was charged with falsifying medical records.
But before he was taken away, he gave investigators everything he knew about David.
Henry began cooperating the same evening.
Brent did too.
Apparently prison had a remarkable effect on everyone’s memory.
Vanessa remained in custody.
Her attorney requested a meeting with Claire and me.
I refused.
Claire surprised me.
“I want to go.”
“Why?”
“I need to hear her without the wedding dress.”
I understood.
The next morning, we entered a small interview room.
Vanessa sat behind the table.
No makeup.
No expensive jewelry.
No perfect hair.
She looked exhausted.
When she saw me, her eyes filled.
“Richard.”
“Don’t.”
She nodded.
Claire sat across from her.
“Why?”
Vanessa looked at her.
“Money.”
“That’s not enough.”
“It started with money.”
“Then what?”
Vanessa looked at me.
“I liked him.”
I almost laughed.
“Henry?”
“No.”
“You.”
That answer surprised all three of us.
“I didn’t plan that.”
She wiped her face.
“Henry introduced us.”
My stomach tightened.
“What?”
“The charity auction.”
The place where Vanessa and I first met.
I thought chance had brought us together.
It hadn’t.
“Henry invited you?”
“Yes.”
“To target me.”
“Yes.”
I looked away.
Vanessa continued.
“I was supposed to get close.”
“Make me fall in love.”
“Yes.”
“Did I?”
She started crying.
“Yes.”
I felt nothing comforting in that answer.
“When did your feelings become real?”
“I don’t know.”
“That’s convenient.”
“I know.”
Claire leaned forward.
“If you cared about him, why help destroy him?”
Vanessa stared at the table.
“Because I kept telling myself I could take the money and stop before it went too far.”
“You hit me.”
“I know.”
“That wasn’t Henry’s hand.”
“No.”
“That was yours.”
Vanessa closed her eyes.
“Yes.”
Claire’s voice became quieter.
“You know what the worst part was?”
Vanessa looked up.
“My father didn’t trust me because of you.”
I felt that sentence inside my chest.
Claire continued.
“You didn’t just steal his money.”
“You made him doubt the people who actually loved him.”
Vanessa started sobbing.
Claire stood.
“I don’t forgive you.”
Vanessa nodded.
“I know.”
“But I’m done carrying you.”
Claire walked out.
I stayed for one extra moment.
Vanessa looked at me.
“Was any of it real to you?”
I thought about eighteen months.
Dinner.
Travel.
Quiet mornings.
Arguments.
Laughter.
The life I believed we were building.
“Yes.”
Her face crumpled.
“That’s why it hurt.”
Then I left.
Outside, Claire waited.
“You okay?”
“No.”
“Good answer.”
We walked toward the elevator.
My phone rang.
Samuel.
“You need to come back to headquarters.”
“What happened?”
“David made one more move before he was arrested.”
My stomach tightened.
“What?”
“He transferred his eleven percent voting stake.”
“To whom?”
“That’s the problem.”
“What problem?”
Samuel hesitated.
“He transferred it to Noah.”
I stopped walking.
Claire stared at me.
“What?”
Samuel continued.
“Your three-year-old grandson now owns eleven percent of Whitmore Group.”
Claire looked like she might faint.
“Why would David give Noah anything?”
Samuel answered.
“I think he left a message explaining it.”
“What does it say?”
“I haven’t opened it.”
“Why?”
“Because it’s addressed to Noah.”
I closed my eyes.
May you like
Even from a jail cell, David Mercer had managed to make one more move.
And this time, he had aimed it at the youngest person in our family.
