Chapter 2 - THE DEBT THAT WAS NEVER MY FATHER'S
By sunrise, Roman's Christmas guests were gone.
Nobody finished dessert.
Nobody opened the vintage wine.
Nobody talked about alliances beneath the tree.
The DeLuca mansion had transformed into something else.
Security officers moved through the hallways.
Camera footage was preserved.
The carriage house was sealed.
And Vivian Mercer sat in Roman's study with an attorney, insisting she knew nothing about the man who attacked me.
I stayed upstairs.
Dr. Harris wanted me resting.
Roman wanted two guards outside my room.
I wanted answers.
At eight thirteen, Mrs. Patel entered carrying tea.
She'd worked at DeLuca House longer than I had.
She was small, silver-haired, and almost impossible to frighten.
Yet her hands were shaking.
"I'm sorry," she whispered.
"For what?"
"I should've stopped you."
"Vivian threatened Lily."
Mrs. Patel looked up sharply.
"What?"
I told her about the debt.
The $184,000.
The private lender.
The monthly payments.
Vivian's threat.
Mrs. Patel sat beside me.
"Claire, did you ever see the original loan agreement?"
I frowned.
"My father signed it."
"Did you see it?"
"No."
After Dad died, a company called Mercer Private Lending contacted me.
They had documents.
Signatures.
Records of the emergency transfer that paid Lily's hospital bills.
I'd been twenty-three.
Grieving.
Terrified.
I didn't question anything.
"I've paid nearly seventy thousand dollars," I whispered.
Mrs. Patel's face changed.
"And you still owe one eighty-four?"
I nodded.
She stood.
"Roman needs to hear this."
"No."
She stared.
"I don't want his money."
"I'm not talking about money."
Twenty minutes later, Roman entered.
He'd changed into dark slacks and a black sweater.
The scratches on his hands were covered with bandages.
He sat across from me.
"Tell me about the debt."
I explained everything.
He didn't interrupt.
When I finished, he asked one question.
"Mercer Private Lending?"
"Yes."
His jaw tightened.
"Charles Mercer's company."
"I know."
Roman looked toward the window.
"Vivian knew about Lily because her family owns your debt."
I swallowed.
"Apparently."
He stood.
"I'm having an independent attorney review the documents."
"Roman—"
"No one is paying anything."
His voice softened.
"We're finding out whether the debt is legitimate."
I wanted to argue.
Then I remembered the snow.
The man waiting.
Vivian's smile.
"Okay."
That afternoon, attorney Rebecca Sloan arrived.
She reviewed copies of every statement I'd saved.
Thirty minutes later, she looked at me.
"Claire, these documents have serious inconsistencies."
My heart pounded.
"What kind?"
"The original principal."
I frowned.
"What about it?"
Rebecca turned the paperwork around.
"The hospital received seventy-eight thousand dollars for your sister's emergency treatment."
I stared.
"But the loan was one hundred eighty-four thousand."
"That's what these later statements claim."
My mouth went dry.
Rebecca pointed to another page.
"And your father's signature appears only on the seventy-eight-thousand-dollar agreement."
I couldn't breathe.
"What does that mean?"
"It means the additional debt may have been added after his death."
My eyes filled.
For three years, I'd been paying money my father never borrowed.
Roman stood beside the fireplace, utterly silent.
Rebecca continued.
"There is another problem."
"What?"
"The original lender wasn't Mercer Private Lending."
She turned another page.
"The loan was issued by DeLuca Community Medical Fund."
I looked at Roman.
He went completely still.
"What?"
May you like
Rebecca swallowed.
"The money that saved Lily originally came from a DeLuca charity."
