Chapter 14 - The Second Body on the Yacht
Before the gala, one final piece of the yacht case surfaced.
Divers searching beneath the route where our vessel slowed recovered a weighted bag.
Inside was a body.
For twelve terrifying minutes, everyone believed it might be Samuel Price, the fake engineer.
It wasn't.
The dead man had been in the water several weeks.
Dental records identified him.
Adrian Mercer.
The original Mercer.
Alive all these years.
Until recently.
The news shook everything.
Adrian had not disappeared permanently.
He had survived, hidden, and apparently remained connected to the network.
Now he was dead.
Cause of death suggested homicide.
No graphic details were released.
Just enough.
He had been killed before my honeymoon.
Then transported aboard our yacht.
Meaning someone used the vessel to dispose of him.
The murder plot against me had hidden another crime.
Why?
Vanessa finally explained.
“Adrian wanted out.”
She had known he was alive.
Of course.
“He contacted me six months ago,” she said.
“He said Alexander was losing control.”
“Of what?”
“Lucas. Roderick. Charles. Too many people had started stealing independently.”
Criminal networks apparently suffered office politics too.
“Adrian offered evidence?”
“Yes.”
“In exchange for protection?”
“Yes.”
“What happened?”
“He missed our meeting.”
Because he was dead.
“Did Alexander kill him?”
Vanessa looked at me.
“Probably.”
“Probably isn't proof.”
“No.”
The second body gave prosecutors enormous leverage.
Captain Rowan's DNA was found on the weighted bag.
He broke.
Facing murder charges, Rowan agreed to testify.
He admitted transporting Adrian's body.
He admitted helping Lucas stage Rebecca's death years earlier.
He admitted disabling cameras on my honeymoon.
He admitted receiving payments from Charles Avery.
And he confirmed Alexander Sterling led the modern Mercer network.
But Rowan revealed something else.
Alexander did not intend to kill me at first.
The original operation required Lucas to marry me, gain trust, and access family systems.
My death became necessary only after Dad's investigators got too close.
“Who ordered it?” Agent Kim asked.
“Lucas.”
That surprised me.
Not Alexander.
Lucas.
“Why?”
Rowan smiled grimly.
“Because he was tired of waiting for his inheritance.”
So Lucas had gone rogue.
Alexander wanted leverage.
Lucas wanted money.
Roderick wanted survival.
Charles wanted power.
Everyone used everyone.
That was why the plan became chaotic.
Greed had fractured it.
The night of the gala arrived.
I wore a dark blue dress.
No sparkling jewelry.
No bridal white.
No disguise.
If Alexander wanted his niece, he would see me exactly as I was.
Dad wore a tuxedo.
Mom wore the same pearl earrings she had worn at their wedding thirty-five years earlier.
Guests arrived.
Some knew a security operation was underway.
Most did not.
Music played.
Champagne flowed.
Cameras flashed outside.
Publicly, it looked like a wealthy family refusing to hide after tragedy.
Privately, forty federal agents covered the estate.
Elena wore catering black.
Agent Kim posed as an event coordinator.
Gertrude entered at ten-forty-five under escort.
She looked terrified.
“Remember,” Kim told her, “you do not improvise.”
Gertrude nodded.
At eleven twenty-five, I left the ballroom.
Gertrude walked toward the garden.
I followed at a distance.
Microphone hidden.
Tracking device in my shoe.
The garden was illuminated by small ground lights.
Roses.
Stone paths.
Fountain.
My childhood home had never looked more unfamiliar.
Gertrude stopped beneath an oak tree.
11:30.
Nothing.
11:31.
Nothing.
Then a man stepped from behind the hedge.
Not Alexander.
Charles Avery.
My godfather.
He looked exhausted.
Older.
He stared at Gertrude.
“Where is she?”
Gertrude's voice shook.
“Close.”
Charles looked around.
“You were followed.”
“No.”
“You're lying.”
I stepped from the shadows.
“Hello, Uncle Charles.”
He flinched.
I'd called him that my entire childhood.
He looked at me with genuine sadness.
“You shouldn't have come.”
“You asked.”
“I didn't.”
My pulse jumped.
“What?”
“That message wasn't from me.”
Gertrude stared.
“Then who—”
A sound behind us.
Footsteps.
Slow applause.
Dad emerged from another path.
But he wasn't alone.
A man walked beside him.
Tall.
Silver hair.
Scar across his jaw.
Alexander Sterling.
My dead uncle.
Dad had a gun pressed against his side.
Alexander smiled at me.
“There she is.”
Federal agents moved.
Red laser dots appeared across Alexander's jacket.
He laughed.
“Careful.”
Then he opened his coat.
A device was strapped beneath it.
Not explosives.
A dead-man transmitter.
“If my pulse stops,” he said, “every Mercer archive goes public.”
Dad stared at his brother.
“You always did need an audience.”
Alexander smiled.
“And you always needed to be the hero.”
He looked at me.
“Niece, walk with me.”
“No.”
“Then your father's secrets become tomorrow's headlines.”
I almost laughed.
“What secrets?”
Alexander's smile widened.
“The ones that prove Daniel Sterling built his fortune with Mercer money.”
Dad's face changed.
And suddenly I understood.
May you like
The forged accounts might not all have been forged.
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