Chapter 7 - Julian's ConfessionWe could have called the police.
But before I did, Mercer had already disappeared.
The SUVs were gone.
So was Julian.
Only tire marks remained in the driveway.
At midnight, my phone buzzed.
A video.
Julian was sitting in a concrete room.
A bruise covered his cheek.
His wrists were tied.
He looked directly into the camera.
"Clara."
I pressed play.
"I don't know if you'll ever see this."
He took a breath.
"I lied to you."
That was not difficult to believe.
"I told you the company was failing."
He looked down.
"It wasn't."
I felt a strange calm.
"It was profitable."
"Then why?"
"Because Mercer was taking it."
Julian explained that Mercer had financed several acquisitions through hidden loans.
When payments became due, the companies were forced into restructuring.
Mercer would then buy the properties for almost nothing.
"He wanted your buildings too."
"Why?"
"Because of the land."
I already knew that.
"That's not everything."
Julian looked terrified.
"Building Four contains records."
"What records?"
"Old infrastructure contracts."
"Which contracts?"
"The original rail corridor contracts."
My blood froze.
He continued.
"Your father discovered that Mercer had manipulated the city zoning plan."
"How?"
"Through bribes."
"Why would my father keep this secret?"
"He wasn't."
Julian swallowed.
"He was preparing to expose Mercer."
The video paused.
Then resumed.
"But there was a problem."
"What?"
"Your father had a partner."
I stared at the screen.
"Who?"
Julian looked directly into the camera.
"Your mother."
I stopped breathing.
My mother had been dead for nineteen years.
"That's impossible."
Julian shook his head.
"She's dead, yes. But before she died, she helped your father build the trust."
"Why are you telling me this now?"
"Because I know what they are going to do."
"Who?"
"Mercer."
"Why?"
"Because your mother left something behind."
"What?"
Julian's expression twisted.
"The original ownership ledger."
The video ended.
I replayed it.
Again.
And again.
My mother.
A ledger.
Building Four.
Mercer.
Everything pointed toward the same place.
At 6:00 a.m., Martin arrived.
I showed him the video.
He didn't say anything for almost a minute.
Then:
"Your mother wasn't merely involved."
"What?"
"She created the first version of the trust."
I stared.
"How do you know?"
"Your father told me."
"Why didn't you tell me?"
"Because he was afraid."
"Everyone is afraid."
Martin looked at me.
"Yes."
I stood.
"Then I am done being the only person who doesn't know why."
We returned to Building Four.
The archive had been disturbed.
Boxes had been opened.
Files scattered.
Someone had searched the room after us.
But they missed something.
Inside the box marked D.C., I found a photograph.
Daniel Cross.
Standing with my father.
My mother was beside them.
The date was nineteen years earlier.
On the back:
First meeting.
Mercer wasn't there.
Another photograph.
Three years later.
Daniel.
My father.
My mother.
And Roland Mercer.
I turned it over.
Second meeting.
Then another.
Daniel alone.
A note beneath it.
He knows.
I stared at the image.
"What did Daniel know?"
Martin took it.
"That Mercer was already inside the company."
"Inside my father's company?"
"Yes."
"Then why did Dad keep him?"
"Because your father believed Mercer was useful."
I looked at the photograph.
"That sounds like something he'd do."
Then I noticed a small marking in the corner.
A number.
4-17.
I remembered the number from my father's handwritten file.
"Martin."
"What?"
"There's another room."
He followed my gaze.
At the far end of the archive was a wall of filing cabinets.
I counted.
One.
Two.
Three.
Four.
Seventeen.
The seventeenth cabinet had no lock.
It opened when I pulled it.
Behind the cabinet was another door.
This one had a keypad.
Martin stared.
"How do you know the code?"
"I don't."
Then I remembered my father's birthday cards.
I entered the sentence from my seventeenth birthday.
The keypad beeped.
The door opened.
Inside was a single desk.
A chair.
A lamp.
And a tape recorder.
Beside it was a handwritten note.
For Clara only.
I pressed play.
My father's voice filled the room.
"Clara, if you're here, then I failed."
I closed my eyes.
"There is one truth you must know before you confront Mercer."
A pause.
"I did not choose you because you were my daughter."
My eyes opened.
"I chose you because you are the only person he cannot legally destroy."
The recording crackled.
"Because the controlling shares were never mine."
I froze.
"They belonged to your mother."
The room went silent.
"My father wasn't the owner?"
"No."
"He was protecting my mother's shares?"
"Yes."
The tape continued.
"And Clara, there is something else."
My father's voice dropped.
"Your mother did not die in that car accident."
My body went cold.
"She was murdered."
The recorder clicked off.
Behind me, Martin whispered:
"Clara."
I turned.
He looked terrified.
Because on the desk was a second note.
This one was dated nineteen years ago.
It was signed by my mother.
May you like
And it contained a phone number.
A number that was still active.
Related Stories
