Chapter 4 - THE DEAD BROTHER’S CHILD
Gabriel Mercer died in a warehouse fire eight years earlier.
At least, that was what Julian believed.
The DNA said otherwise.
Julian sat in silence for nearly a minute.
“Could frozen material exist?”
Mateo nodded.
“Sperm storage. Fertility clinic.”
Julian looked sick.
“My brother froze sperm?”
“We found a record.”
Before his death, Gabriel had been treated for lymphoma.
The clinic advised fertility preservation.
Six samples were stored.
After his death, legal control transferred to the Mercer estate.
“To me,” Julian said.
“Yes.”
“Then how was it used without my permission?”
Mateo placed a document down.
“It had authorization.”
Julian stared.
“My signature again?”
“No.”
The name was worse.
ELISE MERCER.
Julian’s first wife.
His dead wife.
I watched his face change.
“Elise died six years ago.”
“The authorization is dated four years ago.”
Julian stood abruptly.
“That’s impossible.”
The room became very quiet.
Mateo continued carefully.
“The document appears genuine.”
“Then someone had her signature.”
“Maybe.”
Julian turned.
“Or she was alive.”
Nobody spoke.
I barely knew anything about Elise beyond the public version.
Illness.
Long decline.
Private funeral.
Julian never remarried until Sloane.
“What did Elise die from?” I asked softly.
“Autoimmune complications.”
“Where?”
“Private hospice.”
“Did you see her body?”
The moment I asked, I regretted it.
Julian looked at me.
“No.”
His answer shocked everyone.
“She requested cremation immediately.”
“Why?”
“She didn’t want me to remember her sick.”
He looked away.
“I believed her.”
Mateo began pulling records.
Within hours, we discovered something strange.
Elise’s hospice physician had signed the death certificate.
Dr. Samuel Keene.
The same dead doctor linked to Sloane.
Julian stared at the screen.
“No.”
Mateo opened another file.
Dr. Keene had also supervised Gabriel’s fertility storage.
Three deaths.
One doctor.
One unborn child.
One fake pregnancy.
Nothing was coincidence anymore.
Then my phone rang.
Unknown number.
I answered.
“Hello?”
A woman whispered:
“Tess?”
My skin prickled.
“Yes?”
“You don’t know me.”
Her voice shook.
“But I know what you told Julian.”
I looked at him.
“Who is this?”
“Don’t say my name.”
“What name?”
Silence.
Then:
“Elise.”
Julian heard.
He froze.
The woman continued.
“Tell Julian I’m sorry.”
His face drained.
I switched to speaker.
“Elise?”
Julian stepped toward the phone.
“Elise?”
The woman began crying.
“Julian.”
He gripped the table.
“You’re alive.”
“I didn’t have a choice.”
“Where are you?”
“I can’t tell you.”
“Elise.”
“They’ll kill the baby.”
Julian stared at the phone.
“What baby?”
A long pause.
Then Elise whispered:
“Gabriel’s son.”
Julian’s eyes closed.
“Why?”
“Because he is the only person who can prove what your father did.”
The line disconnected.
Julian stood motionless.
Then looked at Mateo.
“My father?”
Mateo’s expression was grim.
May you like
Julian’s father, Henry Mercer, had died twelve years earlier.
But apparently, whatever he had done was still dangerous enough to build an entire conspiracy around an unborn child.
