Chapter 6: The Traitor's First Move
The letter trembled in Claire's hands.
Her eyes remained fixed on the final sentence.
The person who betrayed us... was already inside the Mercer family.
A chill spread through her body.
For three years, she had believed the danger came from strangers.
Now she realized the enemy might have been living behind these walls all along.
A faint creak outside the bedroom snapped her back to reality.
Claire quickly folded the letter and slipped it into the cloth pouch.
She opened the door.
The hallway was empty.
Soft lights illuminated the polished wooden floor.
Nothing moved.
Nothing...
Except the curtains at the end of the corridor, swaying ever so slightly.
Someone had been there.
Claire immediately hurried downstairs.
She found Julian in Arthur's study with Daniel Hayes.
All three men looked up as she entered.
Her face alone told them something had changed.
"What happened?" Julian asked.
Claire placed the folded letter on Arthur's desk.
"I opened it."
Arthur stared at the familiar handwriting.
His breathing slowed.
"I never thought I'd see this again."
Julian frowned.
"You recognize it?"
Arthur nodded.
"It's Isabella's."
Julian's eyes locked onto the paper.
For a long moment, he couldn't bring himself to touch it.
The last words his wife had ever written.
Finally, he unfolded the letter.
The room fell silent as he read.
Each sentence deepened the lines on his face.
Then he reached the last line.
His jaw tightened.
"There was a traitor."
Arthur answered quietly.
"I feared as much."
Hayes stepped closer.
"The question is..."
"...who?"
Arthur walked toward a wall covered with old family photographs.
"There were only eight people who knew Isabella and Aurora would travel that night."
He pointed to each face.
"Myself."
"Julian."
"Isabella."
"Our family physician."
"The driver."
"Two security officers."
"And..."
He paused.
"...my younger brother."
Julian looked up.
"Victor."
Arthur nodded.
Victor Mercer.
The black sheep of the family.
Brilliant.
Charming.
Dangerously ambitious.
Years earlier, he had left the Mercer organization after a bitter dispute with Arthur.
Officially, he retired overseas.
Unofficially...
No one had heard from him since.
Hayes broke the silence.
"Where is Victor now?"
Arthur looked grim.
"If I knew..."
"...we wouldn't be having this conversation."
Just then, a security guard rushed into the study.
"Sir!"
Hayes turned.
"What is it?"
"We found an intruder."
Everyone stood.
"Alive?" Julian asked.
The guard hesitated.
"No, sir."
"He was dead before we reached him."
Minutes later...
The four men stood near the estate's western wall.
A body lay beneath the hedges.
Black tactical clothing.
No identification.
No fingerprints.
The fingertips had been burned away with acid.
Professional.
Hayes crouched beside the corpse.
"Gunshot wound."
Julian frowned.
"But none of our men fired."
Hayes nodded.
"Exactly."
Arthur looked toward the darkness beyond the wall.
"He was eliminated."
"By his own people."
Hayes agreed.
"They didn't want him captured."
As forensic staff searched the body, one officer called out.
"Sir."
Hayes walked over.
The officer held up a tiny metal coin.
Black.
No larger than a shirt button.
On one side...
A silver phoenix.
On the other...
A Roman numeral.
VII
Arthur's face turned pale.
"No..."
Julian noticed.
"You've seen it before."
Arthur slowly nodded.
"Thirty years ago."
Hayes looked confused.
"What is it?"
Arthur answered quietly.
"A death token."
He looked at the coin for several long seconds before continuing.
"There was once an organization..."
"...that never officially existed."
"They called themselves..."
"...The Seven."
Hayes had heard rumors.
Nothing more.
Arthur continued.
"They weren't mercenaries."
"They weren't a mafia."
"They weren't intelligence."
"They sold something much more valuable."
Julian finished the sentence.
"Loyalty."
Arthur nodded.
"For the right price..."
"They betrayed kings."
"Governments."
"Families."
"No target was impossible."
Hayes looked back at the corpse.
"So someone hired them."
Arthur's expression hardened.
"Someone incredibly wealthy."
At sunrise...
Emma wandered into the mansion kitchen wearing oversized slippers.
Her stuffed elephant dragged along the floor behind her.
The night staff smiled.
One elderly cook knelt.
"Good morning."
Emma smiled back.
"Good morning."
"What are you looking for?"
"Milk."
"And pancakes."
The cook laughed.
"We can certainly manage that."
Within minutes, Emma sat happily at the large wooden table, swinging her little legs while eating pancakes covered in strawberries.
She looked wonderfully ordinary.
Completely unaware that half the mansion had spent the night preparing for war.
Julian entered quietly.
Emma waved enthusiastically.
"Good morning, Mister!"
He nodded.
"Good morning."
She pushed a plate toward him.
"You should eat."
"I already have."
She frowned.
"You don't look like it."
The cook hid a smile.
Emma cut a tiny piece of pancake.
"Here."
Julian stared at the offered fork.
No one had ever tried feeding him before.
Especially not during a security crisis.
Emma looked puzzled.
"My mommy says breakfast makes people less grumpy."
Several cooks quickly looked away to hide their laughter.
Julian surprised everyone.
He accepted the bite.
Emma grinned triumphantly.
"There."
"You look nicer already."
Across the room...
Arthur watched the scene in silence.
Something inside him softened.
For years, Mercer Manor had been cold.
Disciplined.
Efficient.
Now...
One little girl had filled it with laughter in less than twelve hours.
Then Arthur noticed something.
Emma wasn't eating all her pancakes.
She carefully broke one into tiny pieces.
He walked over.
"Not hungry?"
Emma shook her head.
"These are for Ellie."
Arthur blinked.
"Ellie?"
She held up the worn gray elephant.
"He gets lonely."
Arthur smiled despite himself.
"I see."
Claire approached just in time to hear that.
"Emma."
"The elephant doesn't actually eat."
Emma whispered conspiratorially,
"I know."
"But pretending makes him happy."
Arthur looked away for a moment.
He suddenly remembered Julian doing exactly the same thing with a wooden toy horse when he was four years old.
History had an odd way of repeating itself.
The peaceful breakfast ended abruptly.
Hayes entered the kitchen carrying a tablet.
His face was grave.
"Sir."
Julian stood immediately.
"What now?"
Hayes turned the screen toward Arthur.
"It's from the city surveillance network."
A grainy image filled the display.
A black sedan leaving Mercer Estate at 2:17 a.m.
No record existed of it entering.
Someone had escaped.
Arthur looked closer.
His expression froze.
"I know that car."
Julian's eyes narrowed.
"Whose is it?"
Arthur answered in a low voice.
"It belonged to my brother..."
May you like
"...Victor Mercer."
End of Chapter 6
