Chapter 7 - The Woman Who Was Supposed to Be DeadMy mother died seven years ago. The woman waiting upstairs knew exactly how she had died.
I ran upstairs.
Nathaniel shouted my name.
I didn't stop.
A woman stood at the end of the hall.
Gray coat.
Dark hair.
One hand gripping the railing.
She looked older.
Thinner.
But those eyes.
Those were my mother's eyes.
“Mom?”
She started crying.
I crossed the hallway.
Then Nathaniel caught me around the waist.
“Wait.”
“Let me go!”
“She could be bait.”
The woman stepped forward.
“No.”
Her voice broke.
“It's me.”
My whole body shook.
“You died.”
“I know.”
“You died.”
“I know, Emily.”
I looked at Nathaniel.
He raised his gun but did not fire.
The woman slowly moved into the light.
A scar ran across her neck.
“This is what they did to me.”
My knees weakened.
She caught the railing.
“I survived.”
I stared at her.
“Why didn't you come back?”
Her eyes filled with tears.
“Because they had people watching you.”
“Who?”
“Everyone.”
She pointed downstairs.
“Blackridge. Police. Hospitals. Banks. Even the school records were monitored.”
I couldn't speak.
Nathaniel lowered his weapon slightly.
“How did you escape?”
My mother looked at him.
“You know how.”
Nathaniel's expression went rigid.
She whispered, “Your father.”
Silence.
“You helped me.”
Nathaniel's voice was cold.
“You were supposed to be dead.”
“He made it look that way.”
“He almost got himself killed.”
“He did.”
I looked between them.
“What are you talking about?”
My mother moved closer.
“Your father, Alexander, didn't die when they told you he did.”
My heart stopped.
“He survived the first attack.”
“What?”
“He lived for three more days.”
I covered my mouth.
“He told me where he hid the evidence.”
“Where?”
She looked at Nathaniel.
“In the Mercer vault.”
My breath caught.
Nathaniel's face hardened.
“My father never told me.”
“He did not trust you.”
I stared.
“Why?”
“Because you're a Mercer.”
Nathaniel's jaw clenched.
“I've spent years hunting the men who killed Alexander.”
My mother shook her head.
“And you never realized your own family helped bury him.”
He said nothing.
I looked at my mother.
“Why did you tell me to trust him?”
“Because when you were five, he saved you.”
Nathaniel looked at me.
“You don't remember the fire.”
I frowned.
“What fire?”
My mother reached into her coat.
She pulled out an old photograph.
A younger Nathaniel stood outside a burning house.
In his arms was a little girl.
Me.
I stared.
My body suddenly remembered what my mind had erased.
Smoke.
Heat.
A man's voice.
Hold onto me.
Nathaniel.
He had carried me out.
“He was seventeen,” my mother whispered.
“He could have left.”
“But he didn't.”
I looked at Nathaniel.
He looked away.
That was the first time I realized his reputation might not tell the whole story.
My mother sat down.
“We don't have much time.”
Nathaniel approached.
“Why?”
“Because Grant knows I'm alive.”
“How?”
She smiled sadly.
“Because I told him.”
“What?”
My mother's face changed.
“He believes I have the final ledger.”
Nathaniel went still.
“You don't.”
“No.”
“Then what do you have?”
She looked at me.
“The name of the man who ordered the entire operation.”
Daniel stepped forward.
“Grant?”
My mother shook her head.
“No.”
She looked directly at Nathaniel.
“The man who ordered your father's death.”
Nathaniel's face went blank.
“Who?”
My mother whispered one name.
“Your father.”
Silence.
Nathaniel's eyes hardened.
“My father died eight years ago.”
“I know.”
“Then how could he have ordered Alexander's murder?”
My mother stood.
“Because he didn't die eight years ago.”
I stared at her.
“Mom?”
She looked at Nathaniel.
May you like
“Your father is alive.”
And then every light in the house went out.
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