Chapter 7 - I Changed Every Gate Code Before Sunrise
Natalie Mercer was thirty-six, composed, and visibly exhausted.
She placed a certified marriage record on Rachel's desk.
Blake Mercer.
Natalie Mercer.
Married six years earlier.
No divorce on record.
“I've been trying to find him for eight months,” she said.
My father looked as if he might be sick.
I asked the obvious question.
“Does Marissa know?”
Natalie shook her head.
“I don't know.”
Blake had left her after draining much of their joint savings, she explained. He claimed he needed space. Then he stopped responding.
Natalie discovered Marissa through social media.
Wedding photographs.
Engagement announcements.
And finally Marissa's viral video about her “cruel millionaire sister.”
That video led Natalie to me.
The irony was almost impressive.
Marissa had tried to publicly shame me.
Instead, she'd advertised Blake's location to the wife he'd abandoned.
Rachel verified the record.
It was real.
Dad whispered, “Oh God.”
I looked at him.
“This is the man you gave access to my private files.”
He didn't defend himself.
Good.
We tried contacting Marissa.
Blocked.
No answer.
Eventually Mom called.
I told her.
She went silent.
Then whispered, “Don't tell Marissa today.”
I stared at the phone.
“What?”
“She’s already devastated.”
I actually laughed.
“Mom, the man she intends to marry appears to still be married.”
“I know, but—”
“No.”
“Claire—”
“No more protecting people from information because reality might upset them.”
I sent Marissa one message.
You need to speak with Rachel immediately regarding Blake. This is serious and unrelated to our dispute.
No response.
Two hours later, Blake posted online.
He accused me of trying to sabotage the wedding with “fabricated allegations.”
That was a mistake.
Natalie saw it.
So did her attorney.
By evening, Blake had deleted the post.
Marissa finally called.
“You found some crazy woman?”
“She found me.”
“Blake says she's lying.”
“There's a marriage record.”
“They've been separated.”
“Then ask for the divorce judgment.”
Silence.
“Marissa?”
“He says paperwork was delayed.”
“For six years?”
“Why are you enjoying this?”
That question stunned me.
“I’m not.”
“You hate him.”
“I don't trust him.”
“You've never wanted me happy.”
And there it was.
When reality threatened Marissa, she turned me into the villain because villains were easier than consequences.
“Ask him for proof,” I said.
“I trust my fiancé.”
“Then ask him.”
She hung up.
At 2:13 the next morning, my security alarm triggered.
Not inside the house.
At the north service gate.
Marcus called.
“Someone attempted an old access code.”
“Which code?”
He told me.
I recognized it.
Mom's.
It had been deactivated.
The camera showed Blake.
Alone.
He tried the keypad three times.
Then walked along the fence.
Security approached.
He left before police arrived.
That was the moment any remaining doubt disappeared.
Blake wasn't simply embarrassed.
He wanted access.
To what, I didn't know.
My office?
Documents?
Something he had left behind?
At 4:00 a.m., Marcus and I reviewed every security protocol.
Every code changed.
Every staff credential checked.
Every exterior lock inspected.
By sunrise, the estate was tighter than many corporate facilities I audited.
At 7:30, Elena brought coffee.
“You haven't slept.”
“No.”
She placed the cup beside me.
“You should.”
“I will.”
“When?”
I smiled.
“Eventually.”
She frowned.
“That's what your family always says.”
I laughed for the first time in days.
Then Marcus entered.
He held a small plastic evidence bag.
“What is that?”
“We found it outside your study window.”
Inside was a tiny black device.
Rachel arrived and examined it without touching.
Marcus explained.
“A wireless camera.”
My stomach dropped.
“Active?”
“Battery dead.”
“How long was it there?”
“We don't know.”
The device had been hidden beneath exterior trim facing my study.
Someone had been watching.
Or trying to.
Security checked the rest of the property.
They found a second device near the service entrance.
Then a third near my driveway.
The family wedding had officially become something else.
That afternoon, investigators traced the model.
Common.
Cheap.
Hard to attribute.
But Marcus found footage from an exterior camera showing someone near the study window three weeks earlier.
The person's face wasn't visible.
But his jacket was.
Navy blue.
Silver zipper.
I had seen it before.
At dinner.
Blake had been wearing it when he arrived.
Rachel froze the frame.
“We need to preserve this.”
I nodded.
Then my phone buzzed.
A text from Marissa.
For the first time, she wasn't insulting me.
Claire. Blake is gone.
A second message appeared.
His phone is off.
Then a third.
May you like
And the wedding money is missing.
---
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