Chapter 3 - The Lie Inside the Family
Ethan read the message three times.
Grace watched his face.
“What is it?”
“Nothing you need to deal with right now.”
“Ethan.”
He hesitated.
Then he showed her.
Grace stared at the photograph.
“That's him.”
“Daniel?”
“The man downstairs.”
The ambulance turned sharply onto the main road.
Ethan enlarged the image.
Daniel Cross looked older than Ethan remembered. Thinner. Gray around the temples. But unmistakable.
Margaret stood close beside him.
Too close.
The photograph had been taken recently.
Tonight.
The timestamp showed twelve minutes earlier.
Grace read the final line again.
You have no idea who your father is.
She looked at Ethan.
“Do you?”
“No.”
His answer sounded absurd.
Richard Mercer had been his father for thirty-three years.
He taught Ethan how to ride a bicycle.
Attended every school conference.
Sat beside him in the hospital when Ethan broke his collarbone at seventeen.
Cried at Ethan's wedding.
Held Grace's hand during their vows because she had lost her own father years before.
Whatever the message meant, Richard was his father.
Biology could not erase a lifetime.
But somebody wanted Ethan shaken.
And they knew exactly where to strike.
At St. Matthew's, doctors rushed Grace into maternity triage.
Ethan stayed beside her until a nurse asked him to step outside during an examination.
His phone rang.
Richard.
“She's gone,” Richard said.
“Mom?”
“Yes.”
“And Daniel?”
“I checked security recordings.”
Ethan walked farther from the door.
“And?”
“The rear cameras were disabled twenty minutes before you opened that room.”
“Who can disable them?”
“Security chief. Me. You. Margaret.”
“Where's the chief?”
Richard went silent.
“Dad.”
“He's not answering.”
Ethan leaned against the wall.
“Call the police.”
“I already did.”
“Tell them everything.”
“I did.”
“Even Daniel?”
“Yes.”
Ethan heard something unfamiliar in Richard's voice.
Fear.
Not for reputation.
Not for business.
Personal fear.
“Dad, do you know what that message means?”
A long pause.
“What message?”
Ethan sent him the photograph.
Silence.
Then Richard whispered, “Where did you get this?”
“Anonymous number.”
Another pause.
“You need to stay at the hospital.”
“Why?”
“Because if Daniel is involved, this is bigger than Grace.”
“How?”
Richard's voice became rough.
“Because Daniel Cross has been dead for six months.”
Ethan straightened.
“No.”
“I attended the private memorial.”
“You told me he had a stroke.”
“He did.”
“You never told me he died.”
“Margaret asked me not to.”
“Why?”
“She said Daniel had requested privacy. No obituary. No announcement.”
“Did you see a body?”
Richard said nothing.
“Dad.”
“No.”
Ethan closed his eyes.
Of course.
Another story controlled by Margaret.
Another convenient disappearance.
“What did Daniel actually do for the family?”
“He was your grandfather's attorney.”
“I know.”
“No. You don't.”
Richard sounded tired.
“He wasn't just legal counsel. Daniel controlled several private trusts your grandfather created before he died.”
“What trusts?”
“I was never given full access.”
Ethan frowned.
“You were his only son.”
Richard exhaled.
“Ethan, there are things your grandfather did not trust me with.”
“Why?”
“Because I married Margaret.”
The words landed quietly.
“What?”
“Your grandfather never trusted her.”
Ethan stared through the hospital window at the city lights.
“Why?”
“He thought she was too interested in the Mercer estate.”
“That sounds like something grandparents say about anyone marrying into money.”
“I thought so too.”
“Until?”
Richard's breathing became audible.
“Until tonight.”
The maternity-room door opened.
A doctor stepped out.
Ethan immediately turned.
“How is she?”
“Your wife is stable. The baby's heart rate looks reassuring. She's dehydrated and exhausted, and her blood pressure is concerning, but right now we're not seeing an immediate need to deliver.”
Ethan nearly collapsed with relief.
“Can I see her?”
“In a few minutes.”
The doctor continued.
“We'll likely keep her overnight.”
“Keep her as long as you need.”
She nodded and left.
Richard remained on the phone.
“She okay?”
“For now.”
“Thank God.”
Ethan lowered his voice.
“Dad. Tell me what you know.”
“I don't know enough.”
“Start there.”
Richard hesitated.
“Your grandfather changed his will three weeks before his death.”
Ethan knew that part.
Mercer Holdings shares were divided among Richard and Ethan through a complex trust.
“What changed?”
“The estate itself.”
Ethan frowned.
“The house?”
“And the surrounding land.”
“That's yours.”
“No.”
Richard swallowed.
“It transfers to your first biological child.”
Ethan went still.
“What?”
“On birth.”
“Why?”
“Your grandfather wanted the property kept outside corporate ownership.”
“And Mom knows?”
“Yes.”
The hidden room.
Grace's due date.
The baby.
Ethan felt ice spread through him.
“What happens if the child isn't born?”
Richard's silence was answer enough.
“Dad.”
“The estate passes into a secondary trust.”
“Controlled by whom?”
“I never knew.”
Ethan did.
Or at least he suddenly suspected.
“Daniel.”
“Possibly.”
Ethan closed his eyes.
This was not only hatred.
Not only control.
Money was buried somewhere underneath it.
Maybe millions.
Maybe more.
When Ethan entered Grace's room, she looked smaller beneath the white hospital blanket.
But stronger.
Her hair had been brushed away from her face.
An IV ran into her arm.
He sat beside her.
“Baby okay?”
“Yes.”
She touched her belly.
“He kicked the nurse.”
Ethan laughed softly.
“That sounds like him.”
Grace watched him.
“You found something.”
He had never been good at lying to her.
“My grandfather's will.”
“What about it?”
“The estate transfers to Peanut when he's born.”
Grace blinked.
“This estate?”
“All of it.”
“I didn't know.”
“Neither did I.”
“Your mother did.”
“Yes.”
Grace looked away.
Something changed in her face.
“Ethan.”
“What?”
“She kept asking me something.”
His stomach tightened.
“What?”
“Whether we had signed the paternity acknowledgment.”
Ethan stared.
“That isn't even done until after birth.”
“I told her that.”
“When did she ask?”
“Three times this month.”
He looked down.
Pieces were assembling.
Ugly pieces.
Grace continued.
“I thought she was being strange because she always questioned whether we were moving too quickly.”
“We've been married two years.”
“I know.”
“She hated you before that.”
Grace managed a weak smile.
“She preferred the word unsuitable.”
Ethan took her hand.
“She was wrong.”
Grace looked at their intertwined fingers.
“Do you know what scares me most?”
“What?”
“She didn't act angry when she locked me down there.”
Ethan waited.
“She acted calm.”
His jaw tightened.
“She told me it was temporary. She said once you understood the truth, I'd thank her.”
“What truth?”
“That you never really loved me.”
Ethan looked toward the floor.
Grace squeezed his hand.
“I didn't believe her.”
“Not even when she showed the messages?”
“I doubted.”
“That's enough.”
“No.”
She waited until he looked at her.
“Doubt isn't betrayal, Ethan. She built the lie carefully. That's on her.”
He kissed her hand.
A knock came at the door.
A police detective entered.
Detective Lena Morales.
She introduced herself, asked several preliminary questions and said officers were currently searching the estate.
“Mrs. Mercer,” Morales said, “we'll need a full statement when you're ready.”
Grace nodded.
“Of course.”
Morales looked at Ethan.
“We found something you should know about.”
“What?”
“A second room connected to the lower passage.”
Grace's fingers tightened around his.
“What was inside?” Ethan asked.
Morales paused.
“Medical supplies.”
Ethan stared.
“What kind?”
“Sedatives. IV equipment. Blank prescription forms.”
Grace went pale.
Ethan stood.
“Whose?”
“We're checking.”
“Was any of it used?”
“We don't know.”
Morales glanced toward Grace.
“There's something else.”
Ethan waited.
“We found a suitcase.”
Grace whispered, “Mine?”
Morales nodded.
It had been packed with Grace's clothing.
Her passport.
Cash.
And a one-way airline ticket.
“For where?” Ethan asked.
“Toronto.”
Grace looked confused.
“I've never been to Toronto.”
“The ticket is in your name.”
“When?”
“Tomorrow morning.”
Ethan understood immediately.
Someone had planned to make Grace disappear on paper.
A departure.
A ticket.
A packed suitcase.
A story.
Morales continued.
“The suitcase also contained a handwritten note.”
Grace's face tightened.
“What note?”
Morales removed a clear evidence sleeve.
Inside was a page of cream stationery.
Ethan recognized the paper from Margaret's desk.
The handwriting looked almost exactly like Grace's.
The note said Ethan had chosen his family over her.
That she was leaving.
That she did not want to be found.
At the bottom was Grace's name.
Grace stared.
“I didn't write that.”
“I believe you.”
Morales looked toward Ethan.
“We'll examine it.”
Ethan's phone vibrated.
Another unknown message.
He opened it.
A photograph.
Not Margaret.
Not Daniel.
Richard.
Twenty-eight years younger.
Standing beside Margaret outside a courthouse.
Daniel Cross stood beside them.
Margaret held a baby.
Ethan.
There was a typed caption beneath the image.
ASK RICHARD WHY YOUR BIRTH CERTIFICATE WAS FILED SIX MONTHS LATE.
Ethan's blood went cold.
Then a second message arrived.
THIS WAS NEVER ABOUT YOUR WIFE.
May you like
A third followed.
IT STARTED WITH YOU.
