Chapter 5
The explosion came from a car in the parking garage.
Rebecca's car.
If we had left five minutes earlier, we would have been standing beside it.
Police sealed the bank.
The bomb squad arrived.
So did federal investigators after Thomas made calls I didn't understand.
I sat in the bank manager's office wrapped in a blanket I didn't need.
Daniel had saved my life.
That didn't erase what he'd done.
Somehow that made everything worse.
Detective Marcus Lane from the state police sat across from me.
“You believe your uncle Victor Carter ordered the explosion?”
“I believe my mother accused him of being involved in my father's death.”
Lane didn't react visibly.
“And your husband?”
“Stole evidence.”
“Also warned you about the bomb.”
“Yes.”
“Do you trust him?”
“No.”
That answer came easily.
“Do you believe him?”
“Sometimes.”
That was harder.
We gave police copies of everything.
The ledger.
Recordings.
My mother's letter.
Security footage from my office.
Daniel's texts.
The forged documents.
By evening, warrants were being prepared.
But Victor disappeared before officers reached his estate.
Of course he did.
Daniel disappeared too.
His phone went dark.
His credit cards stopped.
No hotel reservations.
No flights under his name.
Nathan Mercer remained a mystery.
Police confirmed he existed.
Forty-one years old.
Former corporate security consultant.
No fixed address.
No recent tax filings.
A ghost.
That frightened me more than Daniel.
At midnight, Rebecca and I returned to my house under police protection.
The office looked untouched.
But everything felt contaminated.
My wedding photograph sat on a shelf beside a picture of my mother.
I picked it up.
Daniel had been smiling at me.
Not the camera.
Me.
I threw it across the room.
Glass shattered.
Then I dropped to the floor and cried.
Rebecca didn't tell me to stop.
She sat beside me.
“I loved him.”
“I know.”
“I still love him.”
“I know.”
“I hate that.”
“I know.”
“How can both things be true?”
“Because your feelings didn't become fake just because some of his actions were.”
I wiped my face.
“He said it became real.”
“Maybe it did.”
“Does that matter?”
Rebecca was silent.
Then she said, “Not tonight.”
That was the right answer.
At 2:13 a.m., my old tablet lit up.
Incoming video call.
Unknown account.
Police had disconnected my main network, but the tablet used a separate cellular plan.
I answered.
Daniel appeared.
He was sitting inside a dark vehicle.
There was blood on his temple.
My heart reacted before my mind did.
“What happened?”
He almost smiled.
“You still care.”
“Don't.”
His expression collapsed.
“Fair.”
“Where are you?”
“I can't tell you.”
“Then why call?”
“To tell you Nathan is in the country.”
“Your brother?”
“Yes.”
“You lied about him for three years.”
“I lied about almost everything before I met you.”
“That sentence doesn't help.”
“I know.”
“Did Nathan plant the bomb?”
“I don't know.”
“Did Victor?”
“Probably.”
I stared at him.
“Why are you helping me?”
Daniel looked away.
“Because your mother was right.”
“About what?”
“I started this for Victor.”
My chest tightened.
He continued.
“My father went to prison because of your family.”
“No. Your father confessed because Victor paid him.”
Daniel's jaw tightened.
“You heard the recording.”
“Yes.”
He laughed bitterly.
“Then you know more than I did growing up.”
“What did Victor tell you?”
“That your father framed mine.”
Of course.
“That the Carters kept everything while we lost our home.”
“Victor was stealing too.”
“I know that now.”
“When did you find out?”
“After I married you.”
My stomach twisted.
“How long after?”
“Eight months.”
“You stayed.”
“Yes.”
“You kept helping him.”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
Daniel closed his eyes.
“Because he had evidence against Nathan.”
“What evidence?”
“My brother did things for Victor.”
“What things?”
“Threats. Surveillance. Breaking into offices.”
My skin chilled.
“The investigator my mother hired?”
Daniel nodded.
“Nathan stole the files.”
“And Charles Whitmore?”
“I don't know.”
“Don't lie.”
“I don't know.”
“What about my mother?”
His eyes met mine.
“I never hurt her.”
“You were outside her hospital room.”
“I was.”
“Why?”
“Victor sent me.”
“For what?”
“To find the codicil.”
“You went into her room?”
“Yes.”
My breath stopped.
“Was she conscious?”
“Yes.”
Tears burned my eyes.
“What did she say?”
Daniel looked shattered.
“She knew who I was.”
I couldn't speak.
“She called me Daniel Mercer.”
My mother had looked him in the face.
“What else?”
“She asked whether I loved you.”
My throat closed.
“What did you say?”
“The truth.”
“What truth?”
“Yes.”
A tear slid down my cheek.
Daniel continued.
“She told me that if I loved you, I had one chance to prove I was different from Victor.”
“What did you do?”
“Nothing.”
His voice broke.
“I walked out.”
“You didn't tell me.”
“No.”
“You didn't tell police.”
“No.”
“You kept helping Victor.”
“Yes.”
“Then you failed.”
“I know.”
There was no defense in his voice.
Only exhaustion.
That almost hurt more.
“Why steal the will now?”
“Victor knows the board is about to challenge his control. He needed your shares.”
“So you forged my transfer.”
“I didn't.”
“The documents have my signature.”
“Nathan forged them.”
“You put them in my safe.”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“To make you think I had already transferred everything.”
My anger surged.
“You wanted to terrorize me into signing real papers.”
“Yes.”
“Daniel, you threatened me.”
“I know.”
“Why would you think I could ever forgive that?”
“I don't.”
That stopped me.
“I called because Victor doesn't need your signature anymore.”
Cold moved through me.
“What does that mean?”
“If he can't control your shares through you, he'll try to have you declared incapable.”
“How?”
“Medical records.”
My stomach tightened.
“What medical records?”
“Fake psychiatric evaluations.”
I almost laughed.
Of course.
“Who signed them?”
“A doctor Victor controls.”
“What do they say?”
“That you've had paranoid delusions since your mother's death.”
Rebecca had entered the room.
She heard.
Her face hardened.
Daniel continued.
“He'll use the camera footage of you breaking things.”
I looked at the shattered wedding photograph.
“How would he have that?”
Silence.
My skin crawled.
“There are more cameras.”
“Where?”
“Emily—”
“Where?”
“In the house.”
I stopped breathing.
“How many?”
“I don't know.”
“You installed them?”
“No.”
“Who did?”
“Nathan.”
“When?”
“Before our wedding.”
I felt physically sick.
Three years.
We had been watched for three years.
Bedroom?
Bathroom?
Private conversations?
I wanted to tear the walls apart.
Daniel said, “Get out of the house.”
“Police are here.”
“Not enough.”
“Why?”
“Because Nathan knows every entrance.”
Rebecca motioned toward the hallway.
We started moving.
Then the lights went out.
Not flickered.
Out.
A second later, the alarm began screaming.
Daniel shouted from the tablet.
“Emily!”
A crash came from downstairs.
Police voices.
Running.
Another crash.
I heard Rebecca gasp.
At the end of the hallway, a figure stepped from the darkness.
Tall.
Male.
Holding something metallic.
He looked so much like Daniel that for one impossible second, I thought my husband had somehow appeared.
Then the man smiled.
May you like
“Hello, Emily.”
Nathan Mercer had finally come home.
