Chapter 2 - The Man Outside the Door
Grant drew his pistol.
Dr. Keene immediately moved between Evelyn and the hallway.
The knock came again.
Three times.
“Grant,” Marcus called. “Listen before you do something stupid.”
Grant looked at Dante’s last message on his phone.
FOUND THE STORAGE FACILITY.
MARCUS IS HERE.
Impossible.
Unless Dante was lying.
Unless the man outside was not Marcus.
Unless the entire night had been designed to make Grant trust the wrong person.
Evelyn pushed herself upright.
Keene forced her back.
“You tear that wound open and I’m sedating you.”
“That’s him,” she whispered.
“Marcus?”
Her face tightened.
“I don’t know.”
Grant studied her.
“You said Marcus attacked you.”
“I said the first name was Marcus.”
“That usually means Marcus.”
“No.”
The word came out sharper.
Pain followed.
She caught her side.
Grant waited.
Evelyn closed her eyes until the spasm passed.
“Marcus wasn’t the one holding the knife.”
Grant’s gaze hardened.
“Then explain.”
“I heard the name.”
“When?”
“When they thought I was unconscious.”
Grant glanced at the door.
“They?”
“Two men. Maybe three.”
“And you recognized none of them?”
“They wore masks.”
“Voices?”
“One barely spoke.”
“And the other?”
She looked at him.
“He called someone.”
Grant understood.
“He said Marcus.”
Evelyn nodded.
The man outside knocked again.
Grant approached the door but stayed to the side of the frame.
“What happened to storage 314?” he called.
Silence.
Then Marcus answered.
“You’ve got about ten minutes before it burns.”
Grant looked at Evelyn.
She whispered, “Go.”
“No.”
“That storage unit contains proof.”
“Of your innocence?”
“Of something bigger.”
Grant’s expression sharpened.
“How big?”
Evelyn glanced toward Keene.
Then back.
“Big enough that whoever attacked me knew your niece’s school schedule.”
Grant stopped breathing for half a beat.
The photograph.
Sophia.
His sister Anna’s only child.
One of the few people Grant kept completely outside his business.
He unlocked the door.
Keene swore.
Grant opened it just enough to aim.
Marcus stood alone.
Blood ran from his lower lip.
His coat was torn.
His hands were raised.
“Where are Dante and Leon?” Grant asked.
Marcus blinked.
“What?”
“They followed you.”
“Nobody followed me.”
Grant showed him the message.
Marcus read it.
His face changed.
“That didn’t come from Dante.”
“It came from his number.”
“Then somebody has his phone.”
Grant opened the door wider.
Marcus stepped inside.
Evelyn recoiled.
Grant noticed.
Marcus noticed too.
His expression softened.
“Evelyn.”
“Stay away from her.”
Grant’s words were calm.
Marcus stopped.
“I didn’t do this.”
“Your name was used.”
“So?”
“Your keycard was in your pocket.”
Marcus looked at the card.
His face drained.
“That isn’t mine.”
“It came out of your coat.”
“That’s not possible.”
“Yet here we are.”
Marcus stared at it for a moment.
Then he reached into his shirt collar and pulled out a chain.
The silver ring Grant remembered hung from it.
The black square stone caught the light.
Grant’s eyes narrowed.
“You said you took it off days ago.”
“I did.”
“Why lie?”
Marcus gave him a hard look.
“Because I knew exactly what photo you’d found.”
The room went quiet.
Grant stepped closer.
“How?”
Marcus lowered his voice.
“Because someone sent me a copy before we came here.”
Grant’s grip tightened around the weapon.
“When?”
“Ten minutes before you called me.”
“And you said nothing.”
“I thought it was bait.”
“It was.”
“Yes.”
“And you let me walk directly into it.”
Marcus’s jaw flexed.
“I was trying to see who else knew.”
Grant almost struck him.
Almost.
But Evelyn spoke.
“Storage.”
Both men looked at her.
She was pale.
Weak.
And furious.
“Fight later.”
Grant stared at Marcus.
“Where is it?”
“Old shipping district. Fallon Storage.”
Grant looked toward Keene.
“Can she travel?”
“No.”
“I can,” Evelyn said.
Keene laughed bitterly.
“You can barely sit.”
“I built the archive.”
Grant looked at her.
“You built what?”
“The archive in unit 314.”
“You told me it was a copy.”
“It is.”
“Of what?”
Evelyn inhaled carefully.
“Your father’s records.”
Grant went still.
His father had been dead eight years.
Patrick Mercer had built the organization Grant inherited.
Officially, Patrick owned logistics companies, construction firms, hotels, and commercial real estate.
Unofficially, he had controlled half the port.
Grant had spent years cleaning the empire.
Ending the ugliest businesses.
Turning violence into leverage.
Leverage into contracts.
Contracts into legitimacy.
But his father had left secrets everywhere.
“What records?”
Evelyn looked at Marcus.
“Not in front of him.”
Marcus’s expression darkened.
Grant raised one hand.
“Outside.”
“You’re kidding.”
“Now.”
Marcus left.
Grant closed the door.
Evelyn lowered her voice.
“Three months ago, I found dormant accounts tied to Mercer Freight.”
Grant listened.
“They were created when your father was alive. Small transfers. Spread across shell companies.”
“How small?”
“Individually? Fifty thousand. A hundred thousand.”
“And together?”
“Forty-three million dollars.”
Grant’s face gave nothing away.
“Where did it go?”
“It didn’t go anywhere.”
“What?”
“It started moving again six months ago.”
“Who authorized it?”
“Someone using credentials that belonged to your father.”
“That’s impossible.”
“I know.”
Grant thought.
“Why didn’t you tell me?”
“I tried.”
“When?”
“Twice.”
He frowned.
“I never heard about this.”
“Exactly.”
That landed hard.
Evelyn continued.
“I scheduled a private meeting with you. It disappeared from your calendar. I sent a sealed report through internal courier. It was marked delivered, but you never received it.”
Grant remembered neither.
“So you copied everything.”
“I stopped trusting your office.”
“My office?”
“Someone close to you has access.”
“How close?”
“Close enough to intercept my messages. Close enough to copy your encryption keys. Close enough to frame me.”
Grant thought of his inner circle.
Marcus.
Dante.
Leon.
His legal counsel.
His financial director.
His chief of security.
And Evelyn.
“Who knows about the archive?”
“I told one person.”
Grant’s voice became quiet.
“Who?”
Evelyn looked ashamed.
“Your sister.”
“Anna?”
“She helped me.”
Grant’s expression changed instantly.
“Why would you involve Anna?”
“Because she runs the Mercer Foundation. One of the shell companies had been using foundation grants as cover.”
Grant felt a cold pressure behind his ribs.
“Where is my sister now?”
“I don’t know.”
He called Anna.
No answer.
Again.
No answer.
He called Sophia.
Straight to voicemail.
Grant turned to Marcus outside the door.
“Get Anna.”
Marcus saw his face and immediately obeyed.
Grant called his sister’s house.
No answer.
Her driver.
No answer.
Security.
No answer.
Then his phone rang.
Anna.
Grant answered.
“Where are you?”
Silence.
“Anna.”
A voice finally spoke.
Not his sister.
A man.
Calm.
Educated.
Almost amused.
“Mr. Mercer.”
Grant’s entire body became still.
“Who is this?”
“You’re asking the wrong question.”
Grant glanced at Evelyn.
The man continued.
“You should be asking why your father left forty-three million dollars buried under a dead man’s name.”
Grant said nothing.
“And why Miss Price was foolish enough to find it.”
“Put my sister on.”
“You’re not in a position to give orders.”
Grant’s voice lowered.
“If Anna or Sophia is hurt—”
“They are alive.”
“For now?”
A soft laugh.
“You learned quickly.”
Grant’s knuckles whitened.
“What do you want?”
“Storage 314.”
“You already know where it is.”
“Yes.”
“Then why haven’t you taken it?”
“Because Miss Price was smarter than we expected.”
Grant looked at Evelyn.
She whispered, “Biometric.”
He understood.
The archive required her.
The caller said, “Bring Evelyn to the storage unit. No police. No army. No games.”
Grant looked toward the window.
Outside, distant headlights moved across broken glass.
“How do I know Anna is alive?”
A rustle.
Then his sister’s voice.
“Grant?”
He shut his eyes.
“Anna.”
“Don’t bring Evelyn.”
A sharp sound followed.
Anna cried out.
Grant’s eyes opened.
The man returned.
“Midnight.”
The call ended.
Marcus came back inside.
“I traced it as far as—”
“They have Anna.”
Marcus stopped.
“And Sophia?”
“Probably.”
Evelyn tried to stand.
Keene pushed her back again.
“No.”
“We don’t have a choice,” she said.
Grant looked at her.
“You’re not going.”
“If the archive requires me, you do.”
“I’ll find another way.”
“There isn’t one.”
Grant leaned closer.
“There is always another way.”
“Not tonight.”
For a moment they stared at each other.
Then Evelyn said something that silenced everyone.
“I know who created the biometric lock.”
Grant waited.
She swallowed.
“Your father did.”
Grant’s expression changed.
“My father was dead before you worked for me.”
“I know.”
“Then how?”
Evelyn looked toward her damaged phone.
“There’s a video in the archive.”
“Of my father?”
“Yes.”
“What does he say?”
“I never watched the whole thing.”
“Why?”
“Because the first thirty seconds were enough.”
Grant’s voice was barely audible.
“Enough for what?”
Evelyn looked directly into his eyes.
“Enough to know he was terrified of someone.”
No one spoke.
Grant Mercer had spent his entire life hearing men describe Patrick Mercer as ruthless.
Brilliant.
Cruel.
Unbreakable.
Never terrified.
“Who?”
Evelyn shook her head.
“He didn’t say.”
Grant’s phone vibrated.
A new message.
A live video.
Sophia sat tied to a chair.
Anna beside her.
Both frightened.
Alive.
Behind them stood a man whose face was outside the frame.
Then he stepped forward.
Grant stared.
Marcus whispered, “Jesus Christ.”
Evelyn covered her mouth.
The man on the screen smiled directly into the camera.
Grant recognized him immediately.
He had attended Patrick Mercer’s funeral.
May you like
He had stood beside Grant’s mother.
And according to every official record, he had been dead for six years.
