Chapter 8 - The House Where We Grew Up
At 11:58 p.m., I walked through the front door of the Mercer estate alone.
At least that was what Peter believed.
The house smelled like dust and cedar.
My childhood photographs still hung on the staircase wall.
Six children.
One exhausted grandmother.
A life that felt like someone else's.
“Keep walking,” Peter's voice called.
I entered the old dining room.
Vanessa sat tied to a chair.
Bruised.
Terrified.
Alive.
Peter stood behind her with a handgun.
Richard Cole stood near the fireplace.
That surprised me.
Adrian didn't.
My husband stepped from the shadows.
No handcuffs.
No shame.
Only anger.
“You should have apologized.”
I almost smiled.
“That's still bothering you?”
Richard snapped, “Enough.”
He looked ten years older than yesterday.
“Where are the documents?”
“Safe.”
“Bring them.”
“No.”
Peter pushed the gun against Vanessa's shoulder.
She flinched.
Adrian smiled.
“Still stubborn.”
I looked at Richard.
“Did Grandma know what you were?”
His face tightened.
“Rose was naive.”
“No.”
“She trusted people.”
“That was her mistake.”
Richard walked closer.
“Your grandmother believed ownership should reward loyalty.”
“She saved your son's company.”
“She interfered.”
“She invested.”
“She controlled us.”
I finally understood.
Richard hadn't stolen because he needed money.
He stole because he hated that a woman he considered beneath him had power over his family business.
“You forged my signatures.”
“We corrected an old mistake.”
“You stole forty-two million dollars.”
“You would have wasted it.”
I laughed.
“That was your defense?”
Adrian stepped toward me.
“You never understood business.”
“Apparently I understood it well enough to own yours.”
His face darkened.
That struck deeper than anything.
I continued.
“Fifty-two percent, Adrian.”
He stared.
“That's impossible.”
“The original agreements survived.”
Richard's shoulders sagged.
Adrian turned toward his father.
“You said they were destroyed.”
There it was.
A crack between them.
Richard glared at me.
“Where are the originals?”
I looked at the ceiling.
“Closer than you think.”
Peter frowned.
Adrian looked around.
And somewhere above us, a floorboard creaked.
Peter raised his weapon.
“Who else is here?”
“No one.”
Another creak.
He pointed at me.
“You lied.”
“Actually, I followed your instructions.”
I opened my coat.
“No weapons.”
Peter's eyes narrowed.
Then every light in the house died.
Darkness.
Vanessa screamed.
A body slammed into furniture.
Peter fired once.
The muzzle flash lit the room.
I dropped.
Someone grabbed me.
For half a second I panicked.
Then I heard Gabriel.
“Down.”
My brothers had entered through the old servant tunnels beneath the house.
Tunnels only Mercer children knew existed.
Emergency lights activated.
Daniel had Peter on the floor.
Michael cut Vanessa loose.
Luke secured the weapon.
Noah blocked the rear hall.
Gabriel faced Adrian.
My husband backed away.
“Don't touch me.”
Gabriel's voice was quiet.
“I've wanted to touch you since I saw my sister tied to that wall.”
“Gabriel.”
He looked at me.
I shook my head.
“Don't become him.”
His fists slowly opened.
Police sirens approached outside.
Richard collapsed into a chair.
Adrian looked toward the rear door.
Then ran.
He made it six feet.
Before Vanessa stuck out her foot.
Adrian crashed face-first onto the floor.
For one beautiful second, nobody moved.
Then Vanessa said, “That was an accident.”
Even I laughed.
Police entered.
It should have ended there.
But as Peter was dragged upright, he looked at me and grinned.
“You still don't understand.”
“Understand what?”
He nodded toward Richard.
“He wasn't the one who started this.”
Richard went white.
Peter laughed.
“Ask him who killed Rose Mercer.”
The room went silent.
My grandmother had died from a stroke.
At least, that was what we had always believed.
I looked at Richard.
May you like
And he couldn't meet my eyes.
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