Chapter 10 - THE TRAITOR
I screamed Adrian's name.
No answer.
Ramirez grabbed her radio.
Dad's security team worked with police to trace the call.
The signal came from an abandoned development site outside the city.
A project Adrian's company had stopped building two years earlier.
Police ordered me to stay away.
This time, Dad did too.
I refused.
“I’m not going inside.”
“You're not going anywhere near it.”
“Dad.”
“No.”
I looked at him.
“I spent three years letting men decide what information I could handle.”
He flinched.
“I’m done with that.”
Twenty minutes later, we were in the back of an armored SUV several blocks from the site.
Police surrounded the unfinished building.
Then another call came.
Vanessa.
I answered.
“Hello, Eleanor.”
“Where's Adrian?”
“Alive.”
My knees nearly gave out.
“For now.”
“What do you want?”
She laughed softly.
“Finally, the right question.”
Dad leaned close, listening.
“What?”
“Your shares.”
“In what?”
“Mercer Global.”
Dad's expression changed.
She knew.
Not just about my father.
About my ownership.
My mother had left me twelve percent of Mercer Global.
Worth billions.
Vanessa continued.
“I want signed transfer authority.”
“You think I'm going to give you billions of dollars?”
“No.”
Her voice became colder.
“But you'll give it to the man behind me.”
“D?”
Silence.
Then—
“Very good.”
“Who is he?”
“You really don't know?”
“No.”
She laughed.
“That makes this so much better.”
I clenched my jaw.
“Put Adrian on.”
A pause.
Then his voice.
“Don't do anything she says.”
“Are you hurt?”
“I’m fine.”
Vanessa struck him.
I heard the impact.
Dad's hands curled into fists.
“Stop!”
Vanessa returned.
“You have thirty minutes.”
“For what?”
“To come alone.”
“No.”
“Then your husband dies.”
I looked at Dad.
He shook his head.
I understood.
We were not going to follow her rules.
“I'll come.”
Dad grabbed my wrist.
Vanessa smiled through the phone.
“I knew you still loved him.”
“No.”
I stared toward the unfinished building in the distance.
“I just want to look at you when you lose.”
She went silent.
Then the call ended.
Ramirez approached our SUV.
“We have an entry team moving in.”
Dad showed her a message on his phone.
Something had been bothering him.
The Mercer retreat.
The signet ring.
The knowledge of my trusts.
He had ordered an emergency audit of everyone who attended the Belmont.
One person had accessed guest services under a false room number.
One executive had approved it.
Dad turned the screen toward me.
I recognized the name.
My uncle.
Richard Mercer.
My father's younger brother.
The man who had held my hand at my mother's funeral.
The man who toasted Adrian at our wedding.
The man who had spent twenty years believing Mercer Global should have belonged to him.
Dad whispered, “Richard is D.”
Before I could answer, a black sedan roared past our barricade.
Police shouted.
The sedan stopped beside the unfinished building.
The driver's door opened.
May you like
Uncle Richard stepped out.
And in his hand was the same gold Mercer ring.
