Chapter 5 - ANDREW MERCER HAD BEEN INSIDE OUR FAMILY FOR TWENTY YEARS
Andrew Mercer attended my mother’s funeral.
He held my father upright when the casket moved.
He paid for my Columbia graduation dinner reservation even though graduation was still months away.
He called me princess when I was ten.
At twenty-four, I wanted to break his face.
Instead, I opened records.
Because rage feels powerful.
Evidence is.
Nico gave me access to his analysts.
I gave them Bellweather.
Within twelve hours, they found a pattern.
Bellweather.
Mercer Strategic Technology.
Hart Meridian procurement.
Caruso construction.
Moretti Atlantic.
Money moved in circles.
Invoices inflated.
Contracts redirected.
Pension reserves quietly used as collateral.
The same one hundred forty million Rebecca mentioned had grown.
Two hundred eighty-six million.
“Andrew couldn’t do this alone,” I said.
Nico nodded.
“He needs someone in my family.”
“Who?”
“We’re finding out.”
My father sat across the room.
He looked old.
“When did Mom start suspecting Andrew?”
He rubbed his face.
“Twelve years ago.”
“Three years before she died.”
“Yes.”
“What did she find?”
“Andrew was selling project data.”
“To rivals?”
“At first.”
“What later?”
“Government bids.”
Corruption.
Bribes.
Market manipulation.
My mother wanted him removed.
Dad hesitated.
Because Andrew had helped build Hart Meridian.
Because removing him threatened financing.
Because powerful men love delaying moral decisions until women die waiting for them.
“Did she get sick before or after confronting him?”
My father looked at me sharply.
“She had cancer.”
“That isn’t what I asked.”
“Evelyn.”
“Before or after?”
“After.”
Silence.
Nico said nothing.
He did not need to.
I called Rebecca.
Asked for my mother’s old medical files.
She found something by morning.
My mother had pancreatic cancer.
Real.
Advanced.
Not caused by Andrew.
For one moment, relief.
Then another record.
Her treatment access had been manipulated.
A clinical trial enrollment canceled without her consent.
Authorization came from Hart Meridian executive insurance.
Andrew Mercer’s office.
My vision went white.
“Why?”
Rebecca answered carefully.
“The trial might have extended her life.”
Not guaranteed.
But possible.
Andrew had not created her illness.
He may have shortened her options.
That was enough.
I confronted my father.
He cried.
“I didn’t know.”
“You always don’t know at exactly the moment knowing would cost you something.”
That hurt him.
Good.
Then Nico entered.
His expression was terrible.
“What?”
“We found my leak.”
“Who?”
“My cousin Marco.”
I had met Marco Caruso at the wedding.
Beautiful suit.
Smiling eyes.
Called Nico brother though they were cousins.
“Why?”
“Money.”
Simple.
Almost refreshing.
Then Nico added:
“He says Andrew isn’t the top.”
I stared.
“Who is?”
“Your father.”
The room went still.
James Hart stood.
“That’s a lie.”
Marco had provided recordings.
My father’s voice.
Andrew’s voice.
Payments.
Instructions.
Then a phrase:
Move Evelyn before her twenty-fifth birthday.
My heart stopped.
My father looked horrified.
“I never said that.”
We played the audio.
His voice.
Perfect.
But Nico frowned.
“Edited.”
“How do you know?”
“Cadence.”
He listened again.
Then pulled another recording of James from a board call.
AI voice synthesis.
Good enough to fool almost anyone.
Someone had built a fake evidence trail making my father the mastermind.
Why?
Nico answered.
“To make you stop trusting him.”
I laughed bitterly.
“They’re late.”
Then Rebecca called.
Federal investigators had traced the synthesis server.
Not Andrew.
Not Marco.
A Hart Meridian server physically located inside my father’s executive floor.
Someone with unrestricted access.
Only three people.
James.
Andrew.
And my father’s executive assistant of seventeen years.
May you like
Margaret Shaw.
The woman who had helped raise me after my mother died.
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