Chapter 10 - Aunt Rebecca’s Real Reason for Helping Me
Rebecca did not deny it.
She invited me to her apartment and poured two glasses of lemonade like we were discussing weather.
“You gave company information to a buyer.”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“Because I think Mercer Industrial should be sold.”
“You could’ve told me.”
“You’re seventeen.”
There it was.
Everyone eventually reached for my age when I disagreed with them.
“So you don’t trust me either.”
“I trust you to be seventeen.”
“That’s convenient.”
Rebecca sighed.
She owned only four percent of the company.
Grandpa never gave her more because their relationship had deteriorated years earlier.
She spent most of her adult life believing Mark received everything because he was the son who stayed near the business.
“I was better than him,” she said.
“Maybe.”
“I was.”
“Then why help me?”
Her eyes hardened.
“Because I thought you might finally break his control.”
The truth arrived.
I had become another tool in an old sibling war.
Rebecca wanted the company sold partly because she believed it was smart.
Partly because she wanted Mark to lose.
“Did Grandpa know you felt this way?”
“He created it.”
Maybe.
Maybe not.
Families are excellent at blaming dead people because dead people cannot disagree.
I stood.
“I’m still considering the sale.”
Rebecca looked surprised.
“You are?”
“Yes.”
“But not because you want me to.”
“No.”
That mattered.
The private equity bid was financially attractive.
Higher immediate value than the outside-investor proposal.
But it likely meant plant closures.
Layoffs.
Moving production.
I spent nights reading.
Ray learned alongside me.
Mom kept bringing sandwiches because both of us forgot dinner.
Danny made a spreadsheet ranking options based entirely on whether each plan would let him get a dirt bike.
Cara drew company logos.
It was absurd.
Normal.
Family.
Meanwhile, Mark stayed away unless invited.
His restraint felt almost suspicious at first.
Then useful.
Two weeks before my eighteenth birthday, I made my decision.
I would support the outside investment.
Keep Mercer Industrial operating.
Reduce family control.
Hire independent board members.
And keep my shares for now.
Not forever.
For now.
Mark disagreed.
Then voted for it anyway.
“Why?”
He looked at me.
“Because they’re your shares.”
That was the first time he said it like he meant it.
The deal required final board approval after my eighteenth birthday.
Everything seemed settled.
Then Jasmine discovered a problem.
Someone had forged my electronic approval on an earlier company resolution.
The document was six months old.
It authorized executives to include “future family shares” in certain financing discussions.
My name appeared below it.
Elijah Mercer.
I had never seen it.
Jasmine traced the electronic signature.
The login belonged to Mark.
I felt sick.
He had withdrawn the guardianship petition.
He had apologized.
He had supported my investor plan.
May you like
But six months earlier, before the car, he had apparently signed my name to a corporate document.
And suddenly I didn’t know whether anything he had told me could be trusted.
