Chapter 4 - The Man Who Buried My Wife
The photograph slipped from my hand.
I stared at it on the floor.
I couldn't move.
I couldn't speak.
Because the person standing beside Elizabeth wasn't a stranger.
It wasn't an enemy.
It wasn't someone hiding in the shadows.
It was the man who had held my shoulder at her funeral.
The man who told me I needed to stay strong.
The man who cried beside me when I lowered my wife into the ground.
Richard Mercer.
My uncle.
My father's younger brother.
The man who had spent years telling me he was the only person in the world who understood what I had lost.
"No."
The word left my mouth before I could stop it.
Clara looked at me carefully.
"I know what you're feeling."
"You don't."
My voice was sharper than I intended.
"You don't get to walk into my home, show me a picture, and destroy everything I believed for six years."
Clara didn't react.
Because she knew I wasn't angry at her.
I was angry because a part of me already believed her.
And that scared me.
Marcus picked up the photograph from the floor.
His expression changed as soon as he saw it.
"Sir..."
"I know."
He looked at me.
"Richard?"
I nodded.
The name felt like poison.
Richard Mercer.
The man who helped me survive the darkest period of my life.
The man who managed the company while I disappeared into grief.
The man who became a second father to my children.
The man who might have been the reason their mother disappeared.
I walked back to the office.
Everyone followed.
Nobody spoke.
The silence was heavier than any argument.
I placed the photograph on the desk.
"Tell me everything."
Clara remained standing.
"I don't know everything."
"Then tell me what you know."
She looked at the picture.
"Six years ago, Elizabeth discovered something inside Mercer Industries."
"What?"
"A project."
I frowned.
"What kind of project?"
"Something hidden from the board. Something hidden from you."
I laughed bitterly.
"Nothing happened inside my company without me knowing."
Clara looked at me.
"That's what Elizabeth thought too."
Those words hit harder than they should have.
Because Elizabeth knew me.
She knew my confidence.
My pride.
My belief that I controlled everything around me.
But maybe that was exactly why someone could hide something from me.
Because nobody searches for a betrayal they don't believe is possible.
"What was the project?"
Clara hesitated.
Then she answered.
"A medical research program."
I looked toward the hallway.
Toward my children.
"No."
"Alexander..."
"No."
My voice became louder.
"My children are not experiments."
"I know."
"Then explain why you keep connecting them to this."
Clara took a deep breath.
"Because Emma and Ethan were born with something rare."
"What?"
"A genetic marker."
I stared at her.
"What does that mean?"
"It means someone believed your children were valuable."
The room became cold.
"Valuable?"
Clara nodded.
"Not because of who they were."
She paused.
"Because of what they carried."
I felt sick.
My children.
My babies.
Someone had looked at them like they were objects.
Like they were numbers on a document.
"Who knew?"
Clara looked down.
"Elizabeth."
"Richard."
The name came out of my mouth immediately.
Clara didn't answer.
But she didn't deny it.
That was enough.
I turned away.
My uncle.
My family.
My blood.
The person I trusted most after losing my wife.
I remembered all the nights Richard came to my mansion.
All the times he told me I needed to focus on my children.
All the times he warned me not to chase unanswered questions.
"He always told me to let the past go."
Clara looked at me.
"Because he needed you to stop searching."
I closed my eyes.
Suddenly, every conversation sounded different.
Every warning.
Every piece of advice.
Every moment he acted like he was protecting me.
Maybe he wasn't protecting me.
Maybe he was protecting himself.
My phone rang.
I looked at the screen.
Richard Mercer.
For several seconds, nobody moved.
The timing was impossible.
Almost like he knew.
Marcus looked at me.
"Are you going to answer?"
I stared at the name.
Six years ago, I would have answered immediately.
Now?
I didn't know who was calling.
I pressed the button.
"Richard."
His voice came through.
Calm.
Friendly.
Almost exactly the same as always.
"Alexander."
I said nothing.
"I heard there was a problem at the mansion."
My eyes narrowed.
"How?"
A pause.
Small.
But I noticed.
"I have people everywhere."
There it was.
A sentence that sounded harmless.
But suddenly felt like a threat.
"I need to talk to you."
"About what?"
Another pause.
Then:
"About the woman you brought into your house."
I looked at Clara.
She looked terrified.
Not surprised.
Terrified.
"How do you know about her?"
Richard didn't answer.
Instead, he said:
"Alexander, listen to me carefully."
His voice changed.
The warmth disappeared.
"That woman is dangerous."
I tightened my grip on the phone.
"Why?"
"Because she was involved in Elizabeth's disappearance."
My eyes moved to Clara.
Richard continued.
"She is lying to you."
The old version of me would have believed him.
Because Richard had always been the person who gave me answers.
But now I heard something different.
Fear.
He wasn't warning me.
He was reacting.
"You seem very interested in who I let into my home."
Silence.
Then Richard said:
"Because I care about you."
I almost laughed.
"You care about me?"
"Alexander..."
"No."
I looked at the photograph.
At Elizabeth.
At the truth I had ignored for years.
"You cared about keeping me quiet."
The line went silent.
For the first time in my life, Richard had no immediate answer.
Then he whispered:
"Who showed you the photograph?"
I froze.
Because I never told him about it.
I never told him there was a photograph.
I never told him Clara had evidence.
"How did you know about the photograph?"
Nothing.
Only silence.
Then the call ended.
I stared at the phone.
Marcus stepped closer.
"Sir?"
I looked at him.
"Track that call."
He nodded.
But before he could move, every monitor in the office turned on.
The security screens.
The medical cameras.
The entire system.
All at once.
Static filled the screens.
Then one camera appeared.
The camera outside the mansion gate.
A man stood there.
Watching.
My security team hadn't detected him.
The gate alarms hadn't activated.
But he was there.
Holding something in his hand.
A small black envelope.
Marcus moved closer to the screen.
"Who is that?"
I didn't answer.
Because I recognized the man's face.
Not from today.
From six years ago.
From the night Elizabeth disappeared.
The man lifted the envelope toward the camera.
Then the screen displayed a message.
Three words.
"She survived, Alexander."
The lights in the mansion went out again.
And from the hallway leading to the private medical suite...
May you like
I heard Emma scream.
"Mommy is here."
