Chapter 6 - The Hidden EmpireFor the first time since the attack, I understood why everyone had been terrified of me.

I did not own a few buildings.

I owned a weapon.

A legal one.

A controlling interest in an empire my father had spent years hiding.

Martin explained it slowly.

"Your father invested through a series of trusts."

"Why?"

"Because Mercer was trying to acquire him."

"Acquire my father?"

"His properties."

"So Dad bought Mercer instead?"

Martin nodded.

"The companies were structured through foreign entities, private funds and nominee directors."

"Who knew?"

"Very few people."

"Edmund?"

"He knew enough."

"Julian?"

"No."

I stared at the documents.

"Then why did Julian target Building Four?"

"Because he doesn't know what you own."

That was the first good news.

The second was better.

Mercer didn't know exactly what my father had transferred to me.

Or at least, he hadn't known.

Until now.

"How much is this worth?"

Martin gave me a number.

I stared.

"That's impossible."

"Your father was very good at hiding value."

"Why didn't he tell me?"

"Because you were safer not knowing."

I thought about my father's warnings.

Don't confront them.

Don't warn them.

Do not sell Building Four.

It was all connected.

Building Four wasn't just valuable land.

It was the last visible piece of my father's hidden strategy.

I asked Martin to prepare every document required to exercise my voting rights.

He nodded.

"There's a problem."

"Of course there is."

"Mercer still controls the board."

"For now."

"You need to reveal your ownership before he can act."

"How long?"

"Forty-eight hours."

My phone rang.

This time, it was Eleanor.

I answered.

"Clara."

"What do you want?"

"I want to help you."

I almost laughed.

"You poured boiling oil on me."

"You misunderstood what happened."

"No."

Her voice hardened.

"You're making a mistake."

"By refusing to die quietly?"

"By trusting Martin."

I glanced at him.

"Why?"

"Because your father trusted him too much."

"What does that mean?"

"He didn't tell you everything."

"Neither did you."

Silence.

Then Eleanor said something unexpected.

"Come home."

"Why?"

"Because there is something in your father's study that belongs to you."

"What?"

"A letter."

"From my father?"

"Yes."

"Why didn't you give it to me before?"

"Because I only found it yesterday."

I frowned.

"You found it?"

"In a drawer Julian opened."

"Where?"

"In the house."

I almost hung up.

Then she said:

"Your father wrote it to me."

I stopped.

"Why?"

"He knew what was coming."

My voice became colder.

"Coming from whom?"

She whispered:

"Mercer."

The call ended.

Martin stood.

"No."

"What?"

"You don't go back there alone."

"I won't."

"I mean at all."

"Why?"

"Because Eleanor would never call you unless she was desperate."

"She sounded afraid."

"Exactly."

We returned to the house with two security officers.

The study had already been searched.

Every drawer.

Every shelf.

Nothing.

Then one officer noticed something.

A section of the wooden floor sounded hollow.

We lifted the panel.

Beneath it was a metal box.

Inside was a letter.

The envelope was addressed to Eleanor Whitmore.

I opened it.

My father's words were short.

Eleanor,

If you are reading this, then Mercer has finally moved.

You have two choices.

Keep protecting Julian and lose everything.

Or tell Clara what you helped us do.

Because I know you were never his partner.

You were his leverage.

I stared at the final page.

There was one sentence.

The woman you think you're betraying is the only person who can keep your son alive.

My hands trembled.

"His son?"

Martin read the letter.

He looked at me.

"Julian."

I looked toward the window.

"Mercer is threatening Julian?"

"Maybe."

"No."

I shook my head.

"That's not enough."

I pointed to the last line.

"Why would my father say protect Julian?"

Martin's face changed.

"Maybe because Julian is not the person you think he is either."

Before I could ask, the front gate exploded with headlights.

Three black SUVs stopped outside.

Security moved toward the windows.

Martin grabbed my arm.

"Back."

Men stepped out.

At the center was Roland Mercer.

He looked directly at the house.

Then raised a phone.

Mine rang.

I answered.

"Mrs. Whitmore."

"Mercer."

"I believe you have something that belongs to me."

"No."

He smiled.

"Then tomorrow morning, I will take it."

"What?"

"Everything."

He paused.

"Starting with your husband."

The call ended.

I stared at Martin.

"What does that mean?"

Martin didn't answer.

Because outside, Julian was being dragged from the second SUV.

His hands were tied.

His face was bleeding.

He looked straight at the upstairs window.

Straight at me.

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