Chapter 4 - BLOOD ON THE PAPERI called Ethan immediately.
He picked up before the first ring finished.
“You got the message.”
“Yes.”
“Don't respond.”
“I wasn't planning to.”
“Good.”
I stared at the screen.
The words were still there.
Your sister won't be the one who gets hurt.
For the first time that night, I wasn't thinking about Victoria.
I was thinking about Ava and Mason.
Whatever game was being played, children were now sitting in the middle of it.
Ethan transferred me to a secure line.
“Listen carefully,” he said. “Don't fly back yet.”
“Why?”
“Because whoever sent that message knows where you are.”
“How?”
“Could be your family. Could be someone watching Mercer. Could be someone who has access to your records.”
I looked around my hotel room.
Every shadow suddenly felt intentional.
“What do we know?”
“The notebook contains references to property transfers connected to deaths.”
“That sounds insane.”
“It gets worse.”
Ethan sent me photographs.
My father's name.
My grandmother.
My uncle.
Then a fourth name.
I zoomed in.
My father's old business partner.
All four had transferred property before they died.
And every transfer somehow led to an entity called Bennett Holdings LLC.
My mother had never mentioned it.
I searched my own records.
Nothing.
Ethan said, “The company was dissolved eight years ago.”
“Then why does it matter?”
“Because it's still listed as beneficiary on a private trust.”
My throat tightened.
“My trust?”
“No.”
His voice dropped.
“Your father's.”
I felt dizzy.
My father had died eighteen years ago.
The trust should have expired.
Ethan sent another file.
A scanned document.
My father's signature.
My mother's signature.
Daniel Mercer's signature.
And mine.
I stared.
“I never signed this.”
“I know.”
“That's my signature.”
“No.”
I looked closer.
It was almost perfect.
But the loop in the final letter was wrong.
Someone had copied an old signature.
Then Ethan said something even worse.
“The document was executed after your father died.”
I sat down.
“That can't happen.”
“It shouldn't.”
“So who signed for him?”
Ethan didn't answer.
I already knew.
“Mom?”
“Possibly.”
My mother had spent years telling me she had protected my father's estate.
What if she had done the opposite?
What if the penthouse hadn't belonged to me because my father gave it to me?
What if it had been placed in my name as part of something else?
Something conditional.
Something timed.
Something designed to return control to someone after a certain event.
I thought of the notebook.
2031. FINAL TRANSFER.
“Ethan.”
“Yes?”
“What happens in 2031?”
A pause.
“I don't know yet.”
“Find out.”
“I am.”
Then there was pounding in the background.
Ethan turned away from the phone.
An officer shouted something.
Ethan's face changed.
“What?”
He walked toward the penthouse hallway.
Ava was crying.
Mason was missing.
Victoria had gone white.
“Where's my son?” she screamed.
Everyone started searching.
The building security team sealed the elevators.
The stairs were empty.
The cameras were checked.
Nothing.
Mason had been inside the penthouse eight minutes earlier.
Then he vanished.
My stomach dropped.
“Ethan.”
“I know.”
“Call me when you find him.”
“We're doing everything.”
I stayed on the line.
Seconds passed.
Then five minutes.
Then ten.
Finally Ethan returned.
His face looked different.
“Lauren.”
“What?”
“We found Mason.”
“Is he okay?”
“Yes.”
“Where was he?”
Ethan looked directly into the camera.
“In a locked maintenance room three floors below.”
I couldn't breathe.
“Who locked him there?”
“We don't know.”
“Was anyone caught?”
“No.”
“Then how did he get down there?”
Ethan hesitated.
Mason had told them he followed a woman.
A woman wearing a gray coat.
A woman who knew his name.
A woman who told him his mother wanted him downstairs.
Ethan asked Mason to describe her.
The boy had drawn a picture.
Blonde hair.
Glasses.
Small black purse.
And a scar beneath her left eye.
I stared at the drawing.
I knew that face.
Not personally.
From somewhere else.
I searched my old memories.
Then it hit me.
The woman in the photograph beside Daniel Mercer.
His wife.
Vera Mercer.
Ethan checked the database.
His expression hardened.
“Lauren?”
“Yes?”
“Vera Mercer died six years ago.”
My blood turned cold.
I looked again at the child's drawing.
“There’s no way.”
Ethan said quietly,
May you like
“Then we have a problem.”
Because Mason had just described a dead woman.
