Chapter 9 - What Happened Before Chloe Collapsed
We did not let Chloe watch the video.
I did.
Once.
That was enough.
The camera had been sitting on a shelf in the adjoining family room.
Chloe had apparently been recording the dog earlier and forgotten to switch it off.
The image captured only part of the kitchen.
The audio captured almost everything.
Marcus Hale opened his medical case.
Grant paced.
“You’re sure?”
Marcus sounded irritated.
“You hired me because I know what I’m doing.”
“She can’t die immediately.”
My stomach turned.
Marcus replied, “The reaction won’t be instantaneous.”
“And the injector?”
“Useless.”
Grant stopped pacing.
“What if Rosa comes back?”
“You told her to take the day off.”
“What if Chloe calls someone?”
“The sedative should slow her down.”
I paused the video.
I could not breathe.
Detective Cole sat beside me.
“You don’t have to continue.”
“Yes, I do.”
I pressed play.
Grant said, “I don’t want her suffering.”
Marcus laughed once.
“Now you develop a conscience?”
“Shut up.”
That line haunted me.
Not because it redeemed Grant.
It did the opposite.
He understood Chloe would suffer.
He simply preferred that she suffer less while he killed her.
Then footsteps approached.
Chloe entered the frame.
“Dad?”
Grant turned.
His entire face changed.
Warm smile.
Perfect father.
“Hey, sweetheart.”
I covered my mouth.
He handed her the pastry.
“Special delivery.”
Chloe smiled.
“For me?”
“For you.”
“Does it have nuts?”
“Nope.”
“Promise?”
Grant looked directly at his daughter.
“Promise.”
I stopped the video again.
Detective Cole waited.
Eventually I continued.
Chloe took one bite.
Then another.
The video ended four minutes later.
That was enough.
More than enough.
Grant was charged with attempted murder.
Marcus Hale faced the same charge along with conspiracy and multiple related offenses.
Prosecutors later added charges connected to the planned attempt against me.
The story became national news.
I hated that.
People discussed my daughter as though she were a character.
They debated my marriage.
My wealth.
My decision to freeze Grant’s cards.
Some praised me.
Some blamed me for not seeing what kind of man I had married.
I stopped reading.
Chloe needed a mother.
Not a public-relations strategy.
Grant requested to speak with me.
I refused.
He wrote a letter.
I returned it unopened.
Then he wrote to Chloe.
That decision was hers.
She stared at the envelope for almost an hour.
“Will you read it first?”
“If you want.”
She nodded.
Grant wrote that he loved her.
That he had made “terrible mistakes.”
That dangerous people had pressured him.
That things had “gone too far.”
He never wrote the words:
I tried to kill you.
He never said:
I chose money over your life.
He asked Chloe to remember Disneyland.
Her seventh birthday.
The bicycle.
Christmas mornings.
He used happy memories as witnesses for his defense.
When I finished, Chloe asked, “Does he say sorry?”
“Several times.”
“For what?”
I looked at her.
“He doesn’t say exactly.”
She took the letter.
Then tore it in half.
Once.
Twice.
Again.
“I don’t want his sorry if he won’t say what he did.”
I felt something inside me settle.
My daughter was stronger than I wanted her to have to be.
But she was still a child.
That night, she asked me to leave the hallway light on.
I did.
Three days later, prosecutors offered Marcus Hale a cooperation agreement.
In exchange, he provided information about Grant’s financial crimes and the planned second stage.
He also revealed something we did not know.
Grant had a second accomplice.
Someone who had helped him access the trust documents.
Someone inside my professional circle.
When Detective Cole told me the name, I refused to believe her.
“Say that again.”
She did.
I stared at her.
The person Grant had used was someone who had worked beside me for nearly a decade.
Someone who knew my accounts.
My schedule.
My daughter.
Someone who had visited Chloe in the hospital.
I stood slowly.
“No.”
Detective Cole placed a photograph in front of me.
There was no mistake.
Grant had not built his plan alone.
May you like
And the second betrayal came from someone I had trusted almost as much as him.
Daniel Mercer.
