Chapter 11 - THE BLOODLINE THAT COULD DESTROY AN EMPIRE
Charles Mercer had spent decades trying to destroy the man he secretly fathered.
And Grant Whitmore had spent his entire life believing his greatest enemy was a stranger.
Mercer straightened his jacket.
“Biology is such an inconvenient thing.”
Grant stared at him.
“You knew?”
“Of course.”
“All these years?”
“Yes.”
“Then why?”
Mercer's expression hardened.
“Because Thomas Whitmore took everything that should have belonged to me.”
Grant's jaw tightened.
“He raised me.”
“He stole my son.”
“No,” Grant said. “He loved a child you were willing to use as leverage.”
Mercer's smile vanished.
I watched Grant carefully.
His shoulders were rigid.
His hands were clenched.
But his voice remained controlled.
“Where is Rachel?”
Mercer glanced toward the balcony.
A door opened.
Two men brought my sister into the room.
Her wrists were bound.
Her cheek was bruised.
“Emily!”
I ran toward her.
One guard stepped forward.
Grant moved between us.
“Let her go.”
Mercer raised one finger.
“Not until I have the ledger.”
I held up my handbag.
“Here.”
He smiled.
“Smart girl.”
I opened it slowly.
Inside was the ledger.
Or what appeared to be the ledger.
Before leaving the estate, federal investigators had photographed every page.
The original evidence was already secure.
Mercer didn't know that.
I placed the book on the table.
“Now release my sister.”
Mercer examined it.
Then laughed.
“You really are Daniel's daughter.”
He snapped his fingers.
The guards pushed Rachel toward me.
I caught her.
She was shaking.
“Are the boys okay?” she whispered.
“Yes. They're safe.”
Tears spilled down her face.
I held her tightly.
Then Mercer opened the ledger.
His smile faded.
He flipped through the pages.
Again.
And again.
“These are copies.”
Grant spoke calmly.
“The originals are with federal investigators.”
Mercer's face twisted.
“You think the government can protect you?”
“No,” Grant answered. “But they can prosecute you.”
Mercer reached inside his jacket.
I saw the movement.
“Grant!”
A gun appeared.
Before Mercer could raise it, the ballroom doors burst open.
“Federal agents! Drop the weapon!”
Everything happened at once.
Mercer turned.
A guard lunged toward Rachel.
Grant pulled us behind a marble pillar.
A shot cracked through the room.
Glass shattered.
Mercer stumbled backward.
His gun slid across the floor.
Agents rushed forward.
Within seconds, he was restrained.
I clung to Rachel.
Grant stood beside us, breathing hard.
Then Mercer began laughing.
Even with his hands cuffed behind his back.
“You think this ends with me?”
Grant looked down at him.
“It does.”
Mercer shook his head.
“Ask Victor.”
Grant went still.
Mercer smiled through bloodied teeth.
“Ask your loyal security chief who was driving the car that killed Daniel Brooks.”
I felt the world stop.
Grant looked toward the entrance.
Victor stood there.
May you like
His face had gone gray.
And he didn't deny it.
