Chapter 10 - The Woman From Nevada
Allison Grant answered David’s call on the first try.
She agreed to speak with us only if Mark was not informed beforehand.
We met by video conference.
She was in her mid-forties.
Professional.
Controlled.
Nothing about her matched the warning Mark had sent me years earlier.
She looked into the camera.
“You’re Daniel.”
“Yes.”
“I wondered if you’d ever find me.”
That was not how I expected the conversation to begin.
“Why?”
“Because Mark told me you never looked closely at anything involving him.”
The words stung.
“What was your relationship with Mark?”
“Business.”
“Only business?”
She smiled without humor.
“That’s what Vanessa asked too.”
So Vanessa knew her.
“What kind of business?”
“Investment.”
“In what?”
“A development project outside Reno.”
Priya pulled up the transfer.
“Two hundred fifty thousand dollars.”
Allison nodded.
“That was Mark’s contribution.”
“His company’s?”
“He told us it was personal capital.”
“It wasn’t.”
Her expression tightened.
“I suspected that later.”
“What happened?”
“The project never closed.”
“Where did the money go?”
“We returned most of it.”
“To Mark?”
“To an account he specified.”
Priya asked for records.
Allison had them.
Within an hour, we were looking at a return transfer of $218,000.
Not to Mark’s construction company.
Not to Vanessa.
Not to any business we knew.
To Silver Oak Advisory.
The company tied to Thomas Vale.
The gambling alias.
There it was.
A pipeline.
Company funds out.
Investment vehicle.
Funds returned to hidden company.
Then apparently into gambling and private debts.
I felt sick.
Allison continued.
“Mark called me after the refund.”
“What did he say?”
“He wanted the paperwork changed.”
“Why?”
“He didn’t want the return transfer showing.”
“Did you change it?”
“No.”
“What happened then?”
“He threatened to sue me.”
“For what?”
“Fraud.”
The irony was almost too much.
“Did he?”
“No.”
“Why?”
“Because I told him I would send every document to his investors.”
That explained the old text.
If anyone named Allison contacts you, ignore her.
He had been isolating me from evidence.
“How did you know my name?”
Allison frowned.
“You were listed on one early draft.”
“As what?”
“Financial backer.”
I went still.
“I never backed a Nevada project.”
“I know that now.”
Priya asked her to send the draft.
Minutes later, it arrived.
There was my name.
Daniel Mercer.
Strategic capital partner.
Someone had represented me as an investor without my knowledge.
I leaned back.
“How many times did he use my name?”
Nobody answered.
Because that had become the real question.
Not one forged signature.
Not one fake email.
A pattern.
My identity had been a business asset to him.
Reputation.
Credit.
Trust.
Access.
After the call, I sat alone in David’s conference room.
He entered quietly.
“You okay?”
“No.”
He nodded.
Fair answer.
“I keep thinking about the dinner.”
“The joke?”
“Yes.”
“He knows his role.”
David sat.
“What about it?”
“I thought it was the moment everything changed.”
“And now?”
“Now I think it was just the first moment they said the truth out loud.”
He considered that.
“Maybe.”
I looked at the documents.
“For years, I thought helping them proved I was a good brother.”
“Sometimes helping someone protects them from consequences they need.”
“I know that now.”
“Most people learn it after one bad loan.”
I laughed.
“I’m apparently an overachiever.”
By afternoon, the story started spreading through the extended family.
Not the fraud.
Not yet.
Only the money cutoff.
A cousin texted me.
HEARD YOU’RE THROWING MARK’S FAMILY OUT OF THEIR HOUSE OVER SOMETHING A KID SAID.
Another:
FAMILY SHOULDN’T KEEP SCORE.
Interesting.
Nobody had objected when I paid.
But stopping payment suddenly became a moral debate.
I replied to none.
Then my aunt Linda called.
I almost ignored her.
But she left a voicemail.
“I don’t know the whole story. I’m not calling to tell you what to do. I just want you to know Mark has been asking relatives for money.”
That mattered.
I called back.
“How much?”
“He asked me for twenty thousand.”
“What reason?”
“Mortgage and legal bills.”
“Did you give it?”
“No.”
“Why not?”
“Because he asked me not to tell you.”
Smart woman.
“What else?”
“He said you were having some kind of breakdown.”
I closed my eyes.
Of course.
If he couldn’t control the facts, he would control the narrative.
“He says you’re obsessed with revenge.”
“I’m not.”
“I figured.”
“Why?”
“Because revenge would require you to answer your phone.”
I laughed for the first time in days.
Aunt Linda lowered her voice.
“Daniel, be careful.”
“Why?”
“Mark is telling everyone you’re unstable.”
“Let him.”
“That’s not all.”
“What?”
“He says he has information that could destroy your company.”
I stopped smiling.
“What information?”
“He wouldn’t say.”
After hanging up, I immediately called David.
He was already aware.
Mark’s attorney had hinted at “reputational exposure” during settlement discussions.
“Blackmail?” I asked.
“Not necessarily.”
“It sounds like it.”
“We need to see what he has.”
“What if it’s fake?”
“Then we deal with that.”
“What if it’s real?”
David looked at me.
“Is there anything real?”
“No.”
“You sure?”
I thought through twenty years of business.
Disputes.
Lawsuits.
Mistakes.
Nothing hidden.
Nothing like this.
“I’m sure.”
Then Rachel called.
Her voice was tense.
“Daniel, someone emailed the board.”
“What?”
“Anonymous message.”
“About?”
“You.”
My stomach dropped.
“What does it say?”
“That Mercer Holdings used company funds to secretly support gambling debts and personal expenses for executives’ relatives.”
I stared at the wall.
Technically, parts of that were true.
Except the email made it sound like I had approved everything.
“Who received it?”
“All board members.”
“Attachments?”
“Yes.”
Fake approval emails.
The same ones Mark had used years earlier.
He had moved first.
And now the battle was no longer inside the family.
May you like
He had taken it directly into my company.
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