Chapter 8 - The Mercer Family Secret
Vivian Mercer had spent thirty years believing her father was a difficult man.
Cold.
Controlling.
Obsessed with winning.
But not a murderer.
That distinction mattered.
At least it did when Roman confronted her with Daniel's recording.
Vivian listened twice.
The first time she stared at the table.
The second time she stopped halfway through.
“This is fake.”
Roman said nothing.
“It has to be.”
Still nothing.
“Daniel would never betray my father.”
“He already did.”
Vivian stood.
“You expect me to believe some dead maintenance worker—”
I was across the room before I realized I'd moved.
“My father had a name.”
Vivian looked at me.
Something inside me broke.
Not violently.
Clearly.
“James Bennett.”
Roman stood too.
Not to stop me.
To stand beside me.
Vivian's face tightened.
“I didn't mean—”
“Yes, you did.”
I had spent years swallowing humiliation around her.
That ended.
“You threatened me with a debt your family manufactured. You sent me into a blizzard. You knew someone was waiting.”
“I didn't know Daniel would hurt you.”
The room went silent.
Roman's voice was almost inaudible.
“You knew he was there.”
Vivian realized her mistake.
Too late.
“I—”
“You knew.”
“My father told me someone would collect documents from the carriage house.”
“And you sent Claire.”
“I didn't know what he planned!”
I stared at her.
“Why me?”
Vivian's eyes filled with angry tears.
“Because he said you were stealing from Roman.”
“What?”
“He showed me documents with your signature. He said you were helping someone inside the company move assets.”
Roman looked at Howard's forged transfers.
“You believed that?”
“My father said he had proof.”
“So you decided to threaten her?”
“I was protecting you!”
“No,” Roman said. “You were protecting your wedding.”
Vivian recoiled.
He continued.
“You didn't tell me. You didn't call security. You didn't confront Claire openly. You used her sister's medical debt to control her.”
Vivian's mouth trembled.
“I loved you.”
Roman looked almost sad.
“That isn't love.”
For the first time, I saw something behind Vivian's cruelty.
Fear.
Not of Roman.
Of Howard.
She sat.
“My father arranged everything.”
“What does that mean?”
“Our engagement.”
Roman froze.
Vivian laughed bitterly.
“You really thought our families suddenly decided old disagreements didn't matter?”
Howard had pushed her toward Roman for nearly two years.
Introductions.
Charity events.
Dinners.
Business conferences.
He coached her.
What Roman liked.
What he hated.
Which charities mattered to him.
Even which books he kept beside his bed.
Vivian had believed Howard simply wanted a powerful marriage.
But six months before the engagement, he started asking questions about Roman's holding companies.
Private trusts.
Succession documents.
Which assets transferred automatically after marriage.
Roman's face became stone.
“He wanted access.”
Vivian wiped her eyes.
“I didn't know how far it went.”
“Did you give him information?”
Silence.
“Vivian.”
“Yes.”
Roman turned away.
The betrayal seemed more personal than anger could express.
I almost felt sorry for her.
Almost.
Then she looked at me.
“There is something else.”
My body tightened.
“About my father?”
She nodded.
“When I was nineteen, I found my father burning files.”
“What files?”
“I don't know. But one had the Bennett name.”
“Why remember that?”
“Because he slapped me when I picked it up.”
Vivian's voice became smaller.
“My father never hit me before.”
She described a document labeled:
Bennett Medical Settlement.
Date.
Three days after Dad's death.
Payment amount:
$2.4 million.
Recipient:
Northstar Consulting.
Roman immediately recognized the company.
A shell corporation.
He looked at Marco.
“Whose?”
Marco searched.
Two minutes later, he had the answer.
Northstar Consulting's beneficiary was hidden behind layers of trusts.
But one former director appeared repeatedly.
Dr. Samuel Keene.
I knew the name.
My father's cardiologist.
The physician who signed his death certificate.
My knees almost gave out.
Roman caught my elbow.
“Claire.”
I couldn't hear him properly.
Dr. Keene had told me Dad's heart simply stopped.
That sometimes stress did that.
That no one could have predicted it.
Three days later, a Mercer-connected shell company received $2.4 million through a company tied to him.
Vivian covered her mouth.
“Oh my God.”
Roman called his legal team.
Marco called investigators.
I stared at Vivian.
“Did you know?”
“No.”
“Tell me the truth.”
“I didn't.”
She looked genuinely horrified.
And that frightened me more.
Because if even Vivian didn't know what her father was capable of, then Howard Mercer had been operating beyond everyone's understanding.
Roman's phone rang.
He answered.
It was security.
Howard Mercer was gone.
Somehow, during the confrontation with Vivian, he had left his guest suite.
A service garage door had been opened.
One vehicle was missing.
Roman turned toward Vivian.
“Where would he go?”
She looked terrified.
“I don't know.”
“Think.”
“I said I don't know!”
Then she froze.
Roman saw it.
“What?”
Vivian whispered:
“The lake house.”
Howard owned a private property in Connecticut under another name.
Few people knew.
Vivian had visited once as a child.
“He kept records there.”
“What kind?”
“I don't know.”
Roman was already moving.
But Marco stopped him.
“There's more.”
He showed us a live bank alert.
Several Mercer-controlled accounts had begun transferring money overseas.
Howard wasn't simply running.
He was dismantling his empire.
And then a hospital security camera captured something worse.
Dr. Samuel Keene leaving his retirement community carrying a suitcase.
Twenty minutes later, his car disappeared from traffic cameras.
Two men connected to my father's death were fleeing at the same time.
Roman looked at me.
“We find Keene.”
I nodded.
But another call came first.
From Lily's security team.
Her apartment door was intact.
The guards were unharmed.
Yet someone had somehow delivered a package directly onto her kitchen table.
Inside was a single photograph.
Our father.
Alive.
Taken forty-eight hours after the date listed on his death certificate.
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And suddenly, I didn't know whether I was investigating my father's murder—or discovering that James Bennett had somehow survived it.
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