Chapter 5 - The Name on Lily's Birth Certificate
I called Lily's school before the second message disappeared from my screen.
“Do not release my daughter to anyone.”
The administrator recognized my voice.
“Mr. Mercer?”
“Anyone. Including family.”
“Of course.”
I called security.
Then Marcus.
Then the police.
My mother stood beside me, pale.
“Robert.”
“We don't know that.”
“Yes, we do.”
I wanted to believe she was wrong.
Twenty minutes later, security confirmed Lily was safe.
I drove there myself.
She was sitting in the principal's office with Arthur in her lap.
When she saw me, she smiled.
“Daddy?”
I hugged her too tightly.
“Ow.”
“Sorry.”
“Why are you here?”
“I missed you.”
She looked suspicious.
“You saw me this morning.”
“I missed you quickly.”
That made her laugh.
I took her home.
For the next forty-eight hours, no one entered or left the estate without authorization.
Robert called twice.
I didn't answer.
On the third call, I did.
“Daniel, what the hell is happening? Security refused me at your gate.”
“New procedures.”
“Since when?”
“Since now.”
“Is Lily all right?”
My grip tightened around the phone.
“Why wouldn't she be?”
A pause.
“I heard you pulled her from school.”
“Who told you?”
Another pause.
“Evelyn.”
My mother was standing across the room.
She shook her head.
“I have to go, Robert.”
“Daniel.”
“Yes?”
“Your father used to become paranoid when he was under pressure.”
“I remember.”
“Do you?”
The line went dead.
That question stayed with me.
Do you?
Robert knew about my memory loss.
Of course he did.
But the way he said it sounded like a warning.
Marcus obtained an emergency order unsealing portions of Lily's guardianship records.
He arrived that evening.
Anna joined us.
So did Evelyn.
Lily slept upstairs under guard.
Marcus placed the document on the table.
“Anna wasn't listed as Lily's biological mother.”
I exhaled.
“Then why was she in the proceeding?”
“Claire named Anna as secondary guardian.”
“Secondary to whom?”
“Evelyn.”
My mother nodded.
“That part I knew.”
“There is another document.”
Marcus hesitated.
“What?”
“A declaration from Claire.”
He handed it to me.
If I die under unexplained circumstances, I request that my daughter Lily remain under the protection of Evelyn Mercer and Anna Mercer until my husband Daniel is informed of the circumstances surrounding the Mercer Foundation accounts.
I read it twice.
“Claire expected to die.”
“She feared it,” Marcus said.
“That's different.”
“There's more.”
He gave me the complete birth certificate.
Claire's name was exactly where it belonged.
Mother: Claire Elizabeth Mercer.
But another name appeared below.
Attending physician.
Dr. Samuel Keller.
The same doctor treating Anna.
The same doctor who had treated my family after the childhood incident.
“Why was Keller at Lily's birth?”
Evelyn looked confused.
“He wasn't.”
“He signed the certificate.”
“No. Dr. Patterson delivered Lily.”
Marcus nodded.
“Hospital records agree.”
“Then this signature is forged.”
Anna leaned forward.
“Why forge the doctor's name?”
I looked at the certificate again.
Then I noticed the registration number.
My skin prickled.
“Again.”
Marcus frowned.
“What?”
“317.”
Room 317.
March 17.
Now Lily's certificate.
Coincidence had become impossible.
Evelyn whispered, “March seventeenth wasn't only the day I rescued Anna.”
I looked at her.
“What else happened?”
“It was the day your father opened the first offshore account.”
Marcus sat forward.
“How do you know?”
“Claire discovered it.”
Everything led back to the same date.
The number wasn't sentimental.
It was a marker.
A key.
Marcus took out his laptop.
“If 317 is an account identifier…”
He searched the archived records.
Minutes passed.
Then he stopped.
“I found something.”
An old trust.
Account 317.
Established twenty-eight years earlier.
Beneficiaries:
Daniel Mercer.
Anna Mercer.
But neither of us had ever received money from it.
“Balance?” I asked.
Marcus stared.
“Current?”
“Yes.”
“Four hundred eighty-six million.”
No one spoke.
“That's impossible.”
“Not if the foundation money was being diverted into investments for decades.”
“Who controls it?”
Marcus scrolled.
“Trustee authority transferred after your father's death.”
“To Robert?”
“No.”
“Who?”
He looked at me.
“Claire.”
My dead wife had controlled nearly half a billion dollars.
“And after Claire?”
Marcus scrolled again.
The successor trustee line was encrypted.
“We need the original.”
“Where?”
“Mercer Foundation vault.”
Robert's building.
Of course.
I called him.
He answered immediately.
“Finally.”
“I need to see you.”
“I've been trying.”
“Foundation office. Tomorrow morning.”
“Why?”
“I found something Dad left.”
Silence.
“What?”
“I'd rather show you.”
Robert's voice softened.
“Of course.”
I ended the call.
Anna stared at me.
“You're walking into his building.”
“Yes.”
“He may have killed Claire.”
“Then he'll want to know what I found.”
“What did you find?”
“Nothing.”
For the first time in two days, Marcus smiled.
“Which means Robert gets to tell us what he's afraid you found.”
The next morning, I entered Mercer Foundation headquarters wearing a recording device.
Robert welcomed me personally.
He was sixty-three, silver-haired, composed, charming.
He hugged me.
“You look terrible.”
“Thank you.”
We entered his office.
I placed a sealed empty envelope on his desk.
His eyes went to it.
“What is that?”
“Something Claire left.”
His expression didn't change.
But his right thumb began rubbing his wedding ring.
A nervous habit I remembered from childhood.
“What did she leave?”
“I thought you might tell me.”
Robert smiled.
“Daniel, I have no idea what you're talking about.”
“317.”
His thumb stopped.
There.
I had him.
“Does that number mean something?”
“You tell me.”
He walked to the window.
“Your father loved codes.”
“So did Claire.”
“Claire loved mysteries.”
“She died solving one.”
Robert turned.
“Careful.”
The word came too quickly.
“Why?”
“Grief can make coincidences look intentional.”
“Like Thomas Vale dying the same night?”
Robert's face changed.
Barely.
Enough.
“You remember Thomas?”
“I've never met him.”
“Then why mention him?”
“Because Claire did.”
I tapped the envelope.
Robert stared at it.
Then he smiled.
“You always were impatient.”
He opened a drawer.
My hand moved toward my phone.
He removed a photograph.
Not a weapon.
He slid it across the desk.
Claire.
Standing beside Thomas.
Taken the night she died.
“You've seen this before?”
“No.”
“Look closer.”
I did.
Behind them was a hospital sign.
Mercer Foundation Medical Center.
Room 317.
“What were they doing?”
Robert sat down.
“Trying to steal from your family.”
“Half a billion dollars?”
His eyes sharpened.
So he knew.
I stood.
“Thank you.”
“For what?”
“For confirming the amount.”
His face hardened.
I turned toward the door.
It locked automatically.
A soft click.
Robert remained seated.
“You really should have gone to Chicago.”
My phone vibrated inside my pocket.
A message from my mother.
May you like
Only three words.
LILY IS GONE.
