Chapter 5 - The Man Who Needed Grant Blind
“Stay behind me,” Victor whispered.
Grant almost laughed.
“You’ve been saying that for five years.”
“And you’re alive.”
“Debatable.”
Rourke’s men surrounded the building, but Grant had prepared for that possibility.
Elias quietly activated an emergency signal.
Independent security units were already approaching.
Grant wanted time.
So he gave Rourke conversation.
“You came all this way to discuss my eyesight?”
Rourke’s voice echoed from outside.
“I came because you opened something that doesn’t belong to you.”
“My father’s safe?”
A pause.
Grant smiled.
That confirmed enough.
Claire whispered, “Keep him talking.”
Grant stepped closer to the loading entrance.
“Tell me something, Dominic. Did Nathan know you planned to kill me?”
Rourke laughed.
“Your brother knew exactly what he was doing.”
Grant’s expression tightened.
“Careful,” Elias whispered.
Grant nodded.
Rourke continued.
“Nathan wanted what you had.”
“He wanted my company?”
“He wanted your respect.”
That hurt more.
Grant remembered Nathan at twenty.
Always reckless.
Always charming.
Always standing half a step behind his older brother.
Their father had trusted Grant with everything.
Nathan with almost nothing.
Grant had believed his brother did not care.
Perhaps he had cared too much.
“Where is Malcolm Voss?” Grant asked.
“Somewhere you’ll never find him.”
“Cole already talked.”
Another pause.
A lie.
Cole had not yet provided a formal statement beyond what they heard at the mansion.
But Rourke did not know that.
“Victor talked too,” Grant added.
Rourke’s voice hardened.
Victor stared at Grant.
Grant smiled.
Blindness had taught him poker without cards.
Rourke shouted, “Victor Hale is a traitor.”
Grant replied, “To which one of us?”
Silence.
Sirens sounded faintly in the distance.
Rourke heard them.
His men began moving.
Victor looked toward the side exit.
“Now.”
They left through a maintenance corridor just as police vehicles reached the waterfront.
Rourke escaped.
But he left behind two vehicles, three employees, and enough evidence to turn an old suspicion into an active investigation.
More importantly, Elias carried Grant’s father’s records.
For the next forty-eight hours, the Mercer mansion became a command center.
Federal investigators were contacted through attorneys.
Cole negotiated cooperation.
Victor surrendered documents.
Claire gave a statement.
Grant refused to forgive any of them.
Not yet.
Perhaps never.
But he listened.
That distinction mattered.
Dr. Shaw insisted he continue treatment.
“Stress is not therapy,” she told him.
“It’s the family business.”
“I’m serious.”
“So am I.”
She threatened to stop seeing him.
Grant attended every appointment after that.
Anna found this deeply amusing.
“You’re afraid of her.”
“I respect medical authority.”
Anna stared at him.
Grant sighed.
“She scares me.”
Lily clapped.
“I knew it.”
Three weeks after the flashlight incident, Grant could distinguish large shapes under strong contrast.
He could detect someone crossing a bright doorway.
He could sometimes identify the outline of a hand.
But progress was inconsistent.
Some mornings were better.
Some were worse.
Dr. Shaw warned him not to treat recovery like a business acquisition.
“The nervous system doesn’t negotiate.”
“Everything negotiates.”
“Your retina disagrees.”
Anna laughed from the corner.
Grant pointed toward her voice.
“You’re fired.”
“You said that yesterday.”
“Why are you still here?”
“Lily rehired me.”
Grant nodded solemnly.
“Her authority is becoming a problem.”
Lily climbed onto the chair beside him.
“Flashlight?”
“Flashlight.”
She switched it on.
Grant followed.
Left.
Right.
Then Lily held her free hand beside the beam.
“How many?”
Grant frowned.
“Don’t push him,” Anna said.
“It’s okay.”
Grant concentrated.
He saw brightness.
Then something interrupted it.
A darker shape.
“Hand.”
Lily squealed.
“How many fingers?”
“Lily.”
Grant smiled.
“Three?”
“Four!”
“Terrible.”
“You cheated.”
“I’m blind.”
“You’re getting less blind.”
Anna closed her eyes.
Only Lily could say something so blunt and make it sound hopeful.
Grant laughed.
“Yes.”
Then he turned toward Anna.
He could not see her face.
But he knew exactly where she stood.
“Less blind.”
That evening, Anna found him alone beside the windows.
“You should rest.”
“So should you.”
“I work here.”
“So do I.”
She stood beside him.
“Can you see anything?”
“Brightness.”
“The city?”
“No.”
“Me?”
Grant hesitated.
“A shape.”
“Good shape or bad shape?”
“Suspicious shape.”
She smiled.
Grant heard it.
He had become strangely good at hearing her smile.
“Anna.”
“Yes?”
“What happened to Lily’s father?”
Her body stiffened.
Grant immediately regretted asking.
“You don’t have to answer.”
“He left before she was born.”
Grant waited.
“That’s it?”
“That’s enough.”
He nodded.
Anna surprised him.
“What happened to your family?”
“My father died. Nathan died. My mother died when we were young.”
“And Claire?”
“Not family.”
“Not anymore?”
Grant turned toward her.
“Why are you asking?”
“Because you asked first.”
“Fair.”
They stood in silence.
Then Grant said, “No. Not anymore.”
Anna did not know why relief moved through her.
She disliked noticing it.
The next breakthrough came from the financial records.
Elias found that Rourke’s payments to Northbridge continued even after Victor had stopped directly communicating with him.
Someone else inside Grant’s organization had been feeding Rourke information.
Recent information.
Including the fact that Dr. Shaw had visited the mansion.
“Who knew?” Grant asked.
Elias listed names.
Anna.
Two guards.
Kitchen staff.
Victor.
Cole.
Claire.
Grant shook his head.
“Not Anna.”
“You’re certain?”
“Yes.”
Elias studied him.
“That sounded personal.”
“It’s observational.”
“Of course.”
Grant ignored him.
They traced phone records.
One mansion employee had made repeated calls to a prepaid number connected to Rourke.
Thomas Bell.
Grant’s longtime butler.
Thomas had served Grant’s father.
Had watched Grant and Nathan grow up.
Had guided Grant through the mansion after he lost his sight.
Grant felt physically sick.
“Bring him.”
Thomas entered Grant’s study that night.
He was sixty-four.
His voice was calm.
“You wanted me, sir?”
Grant sat behind the desk.
Elias stood nearby.
“Sit down, Thomas.”
Thomas did.
Grant placed a phone on the desk.
“We found your calls.”
Silence.
“To Rourke.”
Thomas exhaled.
“I wondered when you would.”
Grant felt the betrayal settle.
“How long?”
“Longer than you’d like.”
“Were you involved in the explosion?”
“No.”
“Did you know about it?”
“Not beforehand.”
“Then why?”
Thomas spoke quietly.
“Because Nathan was my son.”
Grant stopped breathing.
Elias stared at Thomas.
“What?”
Thomas continued.
“Your father knew.”
Grant stood so quickly his chair struck the wall.
“No.”
“He knew.”
“You’re lying.”
“I wish I were.”
Thomas explained.
Decades earlier, Grant’s mother had briefly separated from his father.
Thomas had been young.
So had she.
Nathan was born nine months later.
Grant’s father raised him as his own to protect the family.
Nathan discovered the truth shortly before the explosion.
Rourke discovered it too.
He used it.
Grant could barely process the revelation.
“So you helped Rourke because Nathan was your biological son?”
“I helped Rourke after Nathan died because he promised me the truth about what happened.”
“He manipulated you.”
“Yes.”
“And you gave him information about me.”
Thomas looked down.
“Yes.”
Grant’s voice hardened.
“Did you tell him my vision was improving?”
Thomas did not answer.
Grant closed his eyes.
“Get out.”
“Grant—”
“Get out.”
Thomas stood.
Before he reached the door, he stopped.
“There is something you need to know.”
Grant did not respond.
“Rourke didn’t tell me about the flashlight.”
Grant turned.
“What?”
“I never told him.”
“Then who did?”
Thomas looked genuinely frightened.
“I don’t know.”
Elias’s phone rang.
He answered.
His face changed.
“Grant.”
“What?”
“It’s Dr. Shaw’s clinic.”
Grant’s stomach tightened.
“What happened?”
“Someone broke in.”
“Was anyone hurt?”
“No.”
“What did they take?”
Elias listened.
Then slowly looked at Grant.
“Only one file.”
Grant already knew.
“Mine.”
Elias nodded.
A second message arrived.
Security footage.
A woman had entered the clinic using a stolen badge.
Elias opened the image.
He stared.
Grant heard his breathing stop.
“Who is it?”
Elias turned the screen toward Anna, who had just entered the study.
Anna dropped the tray in her hands.
Grant stood.
“Anna?”
She could barely speak.
“I know her.”
Grant’s voice sharpened.
“Who?”
May you like
Anna stared at the woman who had stolen Grant’s medical file.
“My mother.”
