Chapter 3 - The Name Hidden in My Past
The computer screen went black.
Then it turned back on.
A single name remained on the screen.
Thomas Mercer.
My father.
I stopped breathing for a moment.
Because my father had been dead for twenty years.
At least, that was what I had always believed.
I stared at the name until the letters blurred.
Claire stood behind me, silent.
She didn't look surprised.
That was the part that scared me the most.
"You knew."
My voice came out colder than I expected.
Claire lowered her eyes.
"I suspected."
I turned around.
"You brought me here because of him."
"No."
"Then why did you bring his name into my office?"
She looked at the photograph still sitting on my desk.
"Because someone else already knew."
The words hung between us.
I looked back at the screen.
Thomas Mercer.
My father.
The man who taught me everything about business.
The man who disappeared from my life when I was nineteen.
The man whose death certificate I signed with my own hands.
I remembered that day.
The phone call.
The hospital.
The impossible feeling of losing the one person who always seemed stronger than the world around him.
My father had built Mercer Holdings before me.
He was the reason the company existed.
He was the reason I became the person I was.
But there was always one question nobody could answer.
Why did he die alone?
Why did he spend his final months investigating something inside his own company?
Why did he leave behind boxes of documents that my mother destroyed before I could read them?
I looked at Claire.
"Tell me everything."
She hesitated.
"I need you to understand something first."
"What?"
"Your father wasn't trying to expose a financial crime."
I waited.
"He was trying to expose a person."
The room felt smaller.
"Who?"
Claire looked toward the dark hallway outside my office.
"The person who replaced him."
I frowned.
"My father wasn't replaced."
She shook her head.
"Yes, he was."
I stepped closer.
"Explain."
Claire opened her folder again.
This time, she pulled out a document that looked older than the others.
Yellowed paper.
A handwritten signature.
My father's handwriting.
"I found this hidden inside an old company archive."
I took the document.
The first line made my hands tighten.
Private Investigation Notes — Thomas Mercer.
I read the first page.
Names.
Dates.
Payments.
Meetings.
Then one sentence caught my attention.
"The person closest to me is the person I should fear most."
I looked at Claire.
"When was this written?"
"Three weeks before he died."
My heart sank.
"Who was he talking about?"
"I don't know."
"You expect me to believe you found this and didn't investigate?"
"I did investigate."
"And?"
She looked at me.
"I found something worse."
She reached for another page.
"This was the last entry."
I read it.
The handwriting became rushed.
Messy.
Like my father had written it while afraid.
If anything happens to me, Evan must never inherit the company without knowing the truth.
My fingers froze.
My father had written my name.
Not the company.
Not the board.
Me.
Evan.
I read the sentence again.
Then again.
"Why would he write this?"
Claire didn't answer.
Because she didn't need to.
The truth was already forming in my mind.
Someone had hidden something from me.
For twenty years.
I had spent my entire adult life believing I inherited my father's company because he trusted me.
But what if that wasn't the reason?
What if someone wanted me to inherit it?
What if I was part of a plan I never understood?
The office door suddenly opened.
My security director, Marcus Hale, rushed inside.
"Mr. Mercer."
I turned.
"What happened?"
He looked between me and Claire.
Then his expression changed.
"You found her."
Claire immediately stepped back.
The way Marcus looked at her was not confusion.
It was recognition.
"You know Claire?"
Marcus didn't answer.
That was enough.
I walked toward him.
"How do you know her?"
His jaw tightened.
"I don't think we should discuss this here."
"Wrong answer."
The room went silent.
Marcus had worked for me for eight years.
He was the person I trusted when everyone else failed.
He was the person responsible for protecting me.
But now two people in one morning had lied by omission.
And I was done accepting half-truths.
"Start talking."
Marcus looked at Claire.
Then back at me.
"Her father."
I froze.
"What about him?"
Marcus sighed.
"Her father wasn't just an employee."
Claire's face changed.
"What are you talking about?"
Marcus looked uncomfortable.
"He was your father's closest friend."
I stared at him.
"No."
"Yes."
"My father never mentioned him."
"Because he couldn't."
The words made no sense.
"Why couldn't he?"
Marcus looked at the document on my desk.
"Because your father discovered someone was monitoring him."
A cold feeling moved through me.
"Monitoring?"
"Calls. Emails. Meetings."
"By who?"
Marcus looked away.
That was the moment I knew.
He knew more than he had told me.
"Marcus."
He finally looked at me.
"Your father believed someone inside the company was trying to take control."
"And you knew this?"
"I was twenty-five years old when it happened."
The answer surprised me.
"You were there?"
He nodded.
"I was working security for your father."
I stared at him.
"Why didn't you tell me?"
His expression softened.
"Because your father made me promise."
"What promise?"
Marcus looked at Claire.
Then at me.
"That if the truth ever came out, I would protect you."
The words hit harder than I expected.
Because suddenly, the coffee note made sense.
The warning.
The fear.
The urgency.
Claire wasn't trying to hurt me.
She was trying to reach me before someone else did.
I looked at the photograph again.
My father's handwriting.
My name.
A hidden investigation.
A company built on secrets.
Everything I believed about my past was changing.
Then my phone vibrated.
A message.
Unknown number.
I opened it.
One sentence.
You should have let your father disappear.
My blood ran cold.
Claire saw my expression.
"What is it?"
I showed her the screen.
She went pale.
Because she recognized the number.
"That's impossible."
"Who is it?"
She whispered.
"My father had that number."
I looked at her.
"Your father is dead?"
She nodded slowly.
"Yes."
Another message arrived.
This time, it was a photo.
An old photo.
My father standing beside another man.
A man I recognized.
A man who was supposed to have never met my father.
My phone slipped slightly in my hand.
Because beneath the picture was one final message.
Ask your mother why she lied about who killed Thomas Mercer.
I looked up at Claire.
She was already staring at the office door.
May you like
Because someone was standing outside.
And they had been listening the entire time.
