Chapter 9 - THE EMPIRE THAT WAS HALF HERS
Grace's father, William Mercer, had been my father's silent partner.
I discovered the proof inside a bank vault no one had opened in eighteen years.
Original incorporation documents.
My father, Charles Hayes.
William Mercer.
Fifty percent each.
I sat in the vault staring at the signatures.
Grace had never told me.
Maybe she hadn't known.
Arthur had.
He was the accountant on the filing.
After William died suddenly, the shares were transferred through a series of shell entities.
Eventually they landed under my father's control.
According to the records, William sold them.
According to Grace's letter, he hadn't.
I called Jonathan.
“Did Dad ever mention Mercer?”
Silence.
“Yes.”
My stomach dropped.
“When?”
“Before he died.”
“And you never told me?”
“He said William betrayed him.”
“Did he?”
“I don't know.”
We dug deeper.
William Mercer died in a boating accident when Grace was twenty.
Her mother died three years later.
The apartment Grace inherited was supposedly all that remained.
Except it wasn't.
William's half of Hayes International had been worth millions even then.
Today?
Potentially more than a billion.
Arthur hadn't simply stolen corporate funds.
He had participated in stealing Grace's inheritance.
And I had spent sixteen years proudly giving her gifts purchased partly with wealth that may have been hers all along.
The cruelty of it made me physically sick.
Then we found my father's handwritten ledger.
One line:
MERCER TRANSFER - A.B. HANDLED EVERYTHING.
Arthur Bennett.
Another:
RICHARD MUST NEVER KNOW THE COMPANY'S ORIGIN.
My father knew.
I felt another foundation inside me collapse.
The empire I believed I built from nothing had roots in a lie.
Yes, I expanded it.
Yes, I turned millions into billions.
But the beginning wasn't mine alone.
Grace's family had funded half of it.
When Arthur finally called, I almost didn't recognize his voice.
“Richard.”
“Where are you?”
“You found the Mercer papers.”
“Yes.”
He sighed.
“Your father warned me you were sentimental.”
“You stole Grace's inheritance.”
“Your father did.”
“You helped.”
“I fixed a problem.”
“Did you kill William Mercer?”
Silence.
My blood went cold.
“Arthur.”
“William intended to expose Charles.”
“Did you kill him?”
“No.”
Relief lasted half a second.
“I arranged the boat.”
I stood.
“What does that mean?”
“The fuel system had been modified.”
My hand tightened around the phone.
“You murdered Grace's father.”
“I protected the company.”
“And her mother?”
“No.”
“Grace's baby?”
“I didn't intend the miscarriage.”
“You poisoned her.”
“I intended to frighten her into stopping the audit.”
“You killed one of my children.”
Arthur went silent.
Then:
“You killed that baby as much as I did.”
The words hit because they were true in a way I hated.
I hadn't administered the drug.
But I had created the environment where Grace was isolated and Arthur believed nobody would protect her.
Then Arthur said:
“Tell Grace to give me the Mercer originals.”
“I don't know where she is.”
“I do.”
Every muscle in my body locked.
“What?”
He laughed softly.
“You obeyed her and stopped searching.”
A pause.
“I didn't.”
The line disconnected.
Seconds later, a photograph arrived.
Grace stepping out of a cottage.
Pregnant.
Very pregnant.
May you like
Under the image were five words.
BRING THE PAPERS OR SHE DIES.
