Chapter 14 - The Woman Behind the CurtainMy wife had been lying to me too.
I stared at Rebecca.
“What does it mean?”
She didn't answer.
Detective Reed stepped closer.
“The files were designed to make it look like Rebecca was controlling the investigation.”
I looked at my wife.
“Were you?”
“No.”
Margaret laughed from the floor.
“She doesn't control it.”
Everyone looked at her.
“She built it.”
Rebecca went pale.
Margaret continued.
“Thomas Mercer wasn't the mastermind.”
“What?”
“He was just the face.”
I looked at Rebecca.
“Who was?”
Margaret smiled.
“Her father.”
Rebecca closed her eyes.
“My father died when I was twelve.”
“Officially.”
The room felt smaller.
Margaret turned toward the police.
“You want the truth?”
She laughed.
“Then read the original files.”
Detective Reed opened the oldest folder.
He found a photograph.
Rebecca's father.
Thomas Mercer.
And another man.
Standing beside them.
I knew the face.
I'd seen it in my own family album.
My grandfather.
William Mercer.
The real founder of the network.
Dead fifty years.
The truth was bigger than my father.
Bigger than Michael.
Bigger than Rebecca.
A family system built over generations.
Property stolen.
Children renamed.
Families erased.
And Rebecca had been investigating it because her own father had helped build it.
“You knew,” I said.
She looked at me.
“I knew parts.”
“You lied to me.”
“I was trying to protect you.”
“You always say that.”
“I loved you.”
I looked away.
She continued.
“The night of the crash, my father ordered the hit.”
“Why?”
“Because I found the original ledger.”
“The one Margaret wanted?”
“No.”
Rebecca reached into her coat.
She pulled out a tiny black notebook.
“This one.”
Inside were names.
Payments.
Judges.
Doctors.
Landowners.
And one final name.
Daniel Mercer.
My name.
I stared at it.
“Why am I here?”
Rebecca looked at me.
“Because your father believed you would eventually become the only person capable of exposing everything.”
“Then why frame me?”
“Because he wanted you trapped.”
She turned the page.
At the bottom was one final sentence.
The heir must destroy the house before he can inherit it.
I looked at the Mercer estate in my mind.
The house I'd grown up in.
The house where I had buried my mother's laughter.
The library.
The hidden rooms.
The vault.
The portraits.
The secrets.
Then Lucy tugged my sleeve.
“Dad?”
I looked down.
“What?”
She pointed to the black notebook.
“There's another name.”
I looked.
Below mine was a name I'd never seen before.
ELIAS PARKER.
Lucy stared at it.
“That's my grandfather.”
I looked at her.
“Your grandfather is dead.”
Lucy shook her head.
“No.”
“What?”
“Grandpa came to see Mom last month.”
My blood ran cold.
“Lucy, what did he look like?”
She thought.
“Old.”
“Anything else?”
“He had the same eyes as you.”
Nobody spoke.
Then Detective Reed's phone rang.
He answered.
His face changed.
“What?”
I stepped closer.
“What happened?”
He looked at me.
“The Mercer estate is on fire.”
The house where all the records were buried.
The house where my father's secrets began.
And somebody was standing on the front lawn watching it burn.
A man.
Old.
May you like
Gray-haired.
Green eyes.
