Chapter 8 - THE MAN RUNNING THE COMPANY
At 7:00 a.m., Graham Vale walked into Mercer Industries headquarters as though nothing had happened.
He wore a dark navy suit.
Silver cufflinks.
A white shirt.
No tie.
Employees nodded respectfully as he crossed the marble lobby.
Nobody knew police had searched a farmhouse connected to the company’s past.
Nobody knew Margaret Mercer had accused Graham of kidnapping her.
Nobody knew a tactical team was already waiting three blocks away.
Detective Ruiz wanted Graham watched.
Not arrested.
Not yet.
“We need to know who he contacts.”
Ruiz told his team.
“If we take him too early, Charles and Adrian disappear.”
Graham entered the executive elevator.
He pressed the button for the forty-second floor.
The doors closed.
Then he removed a second phone from inside his jacket.
One number.
No saved name.
“It failed.”
A voice answered.
Charles Whitmore.
“What failed?”
“Margaret.”
Silence.
Graham continued.
“They found the farmhouse.”
“How?”
“I don’t know.”
“Where is Vanessa?”
“Custody.”
Charles swore.
“Adrian?”
“Missing.”
Graham reached the top floor.
The elevator opened.
He stepped into the executive hallway.
“Find him.”
Charles lowered his voice.
“He has the trust papers.”
Graham stopped walking.
“What?”
“He took them.”
“Why?”
“Because he’s panicking.”
Graham closed his eyes.
For the first time, his calm disappeared.
“If Adrian gives those papers to Elena, we’re finished.”
Charles replied.
“He won’t.”
“How do you know?”
“Because the papers prove he was part of it.”
Graham entered his office.
He locked the door.
“What about the baby?”
Charles became quiet.
Graham stared out at the city.
“Charles.”
“If she gives birth before we secure temporary guardianship, control passes to Elena.”
“I know the trust.”
“We need the incapacity petition.”
“It was supposed to be signed last night.”
“Camille ruined that.”
Graham’s jaw tightened.
“Camille was never supposed to touch her.”
“She got emotional.”
“She shoved an eight-month pregnant woman down a staircase.”
“I’m aware.”
“If the child had died—”
“Would that have made things worse for us?”
Graham said nothing.
Charles continued.
“You’re becoming sentimental.”
“No.”
“Yes.”
Graham looked toward a framed photograph on his desk.
David Mercer.
Young.
Smiling.
Standing beside Graham twenty-five years earlier.
“We agreed Elena wouldn’t be physically harmed.”
Charles laughed softly.
“You agreed.”
The call ended.
Graham slowly lowered the phone.
Across the city, Detective Ruiz listened through a court-authorized intercept.
Beside him, Maya Chen looked stunned.
“They just admitted it.”
“Parts of it.”
“Enough for arrests.”
“Not enough for David Mercer’s death.”
Chen looked at him.
“You think they killed him?”
Ruiz stared at the transcript.
“I think Graham knows more than Charles realizes.”
At St. Vincent’s, Elena woke after barely two hours of sleep.
Robert sat near the window.
Margaret was resting in another room.
A police officer remained outside the door.
Elena reached for water.
Then noticed a folded newspaper on the table.
The business section showed Graham Vale speaking at a charity dinner.
She stared at his face.
“He used to bring me birthday presents.”
Robert looked up.
“Graham?”
“Yes.”
“He and Dad were close.”
“They were.”
“What happened?”
Robert hesitated.
“Graham believed he deserved part of Mercer Industries.”
Elena frowned.
“Why?”
“Because he helped build it.”
“That doesn’t make it his.”
“He disagreed.”
Robert stood.
“Your grandfather started the company.”
“I know.”
“Your father inherited it.”
“Yes.”
“But Graham joined David when the company was nearly bankrupt.”
Elena listened.
“They rebuilt it together.”
Robert continued.
“Graham worked twenty-hour days.”
“Negotiated acquisitions.”
“Saved entire divisions.”
“And your father became the billionaire.”
Elena understood.
“Graham resented him.”
“Eventually.”
“Did Dad know?”
“Yes.”
“What did he do?”
“He offered Graham stock.”
“How much?”
“Eight percent.”
“That’s enormous.”
“Graham wanted twenty-five.”
Elena shook her head.
“So Dad refused.”
“Yes.”
“And then Haven started.”
Robert nodded.
Elena looked at the monitor beside her.
“You think Haven was a way to take control.”
“I think Haven became one.”
The door opened.
Ruiz entered.
He looked exhausted.
Elena saw immediately that he had news.
“What happened?”
“We intercepted Graham speaking with Charles.”
“About me?”
“Yes.”
“And the baby.”
Elena’s expression changed.
Ruiz moved closer.
“They were discussing the trust.”
“What exactly?”
“They believe if you give birth before they secure control over you, they lose.”
Elena stared at him.
“So my baby is a deadline.”
Ruiz did not soften it.
“Yes.”
A contraction began.
Elena inhaled.
Dr. Blake had told her stress could trigger more.
She breathed through it.
Ruiz waited.
When it passed, Elena opened her eyes.
“What about Adrian?”
“Missing.”
“Of course.”
“But Charles said Adrian took trust documents.”
“Why?”
“Possibly leverage.”
Elena almost laughed.
“Against who?”
“Everyone.”
She looked at Ruiz.
“What happens if Adrian comes here?”
“He gets arrested.”
“For what?”
“At minimum, conspiracy, unlawful access to your mother’s security system, and kidnapping involvement.”
Elena nodded slowly.
Then a nurse appeared.
“There’s someone asking for Mrs. Mercer.”
Ruiz immediately stood.
“Who?”
The nurse looked confused.
“He says he’s her attorney.”
Elena’s blood ran cold.
“What name?”
“Charles Whitmore.”
Ruiz moved toward the door.
Then stopped.
Because a second officer rushed down the hallway.
“Detective!”
Ruiz turned.
“What?”
“Whitmore isn’t downstairs.”
The nurse looked even more confused.
“I just saw him.”
The officer shook his head.
“That man used Whitmore’s name.”
Ruiz drew his weapon.
“Lock the floor.”
The nurse stepped backward.
Elena’s heart started pounding.
Ruiz asked.
“Where did he go?”
The nurse pointed.
“Toward the maternity medication room.”
Everyone froze.
Elena looked toward the IV connected to her arm.
Then toward the bag hanging above her.
A clear liquid flowed steadily through the tubing.
Ruiz followed her gaze.
“Stop the IV.”
The nurse rushed forward and clamped the line.
Ruiz ran into the hallway.
The fake attorney was gone.
But beside the medication room door lay a white medical coat.
And inside one pocket was a syringe.
Prepared.
Filled.
Unlabeled.
May you like
The attempt on the staircase had failed.
So someone had simply changed locations.
