Chapter 7 - THE CAMERA ABOVE THE CRIB
Ethan became terrifyingly calm.
“Daniel, take Claire back.”
“No.”
He turned toward me.
“Claire.”
“I said no.”
“Someone was inside our daughter’s nursery.”
“Which is exactly why I’m not sitting safely in an apartment while everyone else decides what happens to my life.”
His nostrils flared.
Then he nodded.
“Fine.”
That single word told me Ethan was changing—or trying to.
We returned to the house with four security vehicles.
Vanessa was gone.
So was the photograph.
But above Lily’s crib, one of Ethan’s men found a camera hidden inside the smoke detector.
It had been transmitting for months.
I sat on the edge of the nursery chair, suddenly nauseous.
Months.
Someone had watched me fold baby clothes.
Cry after arguments.
Talk to Lily when I thought nobody could hear.
Ethan crouched in front of me.
“I’m sorry.”
I looked at him.
“For the camera?”
“For making this house unsafe before I ever knew there was a camera.”
That hurt more.
His voice dropped.
“You told me something was wrong. I made you prove your feelings were reasonable instead of listening.”
For the first time, he wasn’t explaining.
Wasn’t defending.
Just owning it.
“I need space from you,” I said.
Pain crossed his face.
“I know.”
“And I may never come back.”
His jaw tightened.
“I know that too.”
A security guard entered.
“Mr. Mercer?”
“What?”
“We found another device.”
“In the nursery?”
“No.”
He hesitated.
“Your bedroom.”
Ethan stood.
Inside the master bedroom, investigators discovered two microphones and a miniature camera.
One was positioned toward the bed.
I felt physically ill.
Vanessa had known everything.
Every private conversation.
Every argument.
Maybe every intimate moment.
Then another technician called from Ethan’s office.
He found a transmitter beneath the desk.
Ethan stared at it.
“She heard business meetings.”
Daniel swore.
“That explains the signatures. She knew every transaction before execution.”
My phone rang.
Rachel Wynn.
This time Daniel recorded the call.
“I found the account,” Rachel whispered.
“What account?”
“The master account Graham uses.”
“How much?”
“Forty-two million.”
Ethan closed his eyes.
“Can you access it?”
“Maybe. But there’s something strange.”
“What?”
“The account is being emptied tonight.”
“Where?”
“I’m tracing it.”
Keyboard sounds clicked rapidly.
Then Rachel stopped.
“Oh my God.”
“What?”
“The receiving account isn’t Vanessa’s.”
Ethan leaned closer.
“Whose is it?”
Rachel swallowed.
“It belongs to someone named Lily Bennett Mercer.”
I froze.
“That’s my unborn daughter.”
“I know.”
“How can she have an account?”
“She doesn’t.”
Daniel’s expression changed.
“Unless someone created a trust using her future legal identity.”
Rachel whispered, “Exactly.”
Ethan looked at me.
“Why?”
Daniel answered before anyone else could.
“To frame Claire.”
If forty-two million dollars in stolen assets appeared under our daughter’s name, prosecutors could argue I controlled the account.
Then Rachel made a sound.
“What?”
“I found who opened it.”
“Vanessa?”
“No.”
“Graham?”
“No.”
Her next words destroyed every assumption we had made.
“The authorization came from Robert Bennett.”
May you like
My father.
Who had been dead for six years.
