Chapter 10 - The Housekeeper Who Was Supposed to Betray Him
My name appeared beneath a sworn statement declaring Caleb Mercer incapable of making his own decisions.
I stared at the document.
"That's not my signature."
Caleb looked up.
"I know."
My throat tightened.
"How?"
"Because you wouldn't describe me as helpless."
I almost smiled.
Then I read the next paragraph.
It claimed I'd witnessed Caleb threatening employees, refusing medical care, and displaying confusion about his finances.
The statement was detailed.
Convincing.
And completely false.
"I never said any of this."
Gabriel nodded.
"We'll have the signature examined and preserve the source records."
I looked at Caleb.
"Why would Owen use my name?"
His expression darkened.
"Because you were the last person I trusted before he filed the petition."
My stomach turned.
For two years, I'd been invisible.
Now someone had turned that invisibility into a weapon.
They assumed nobody would believe a housekeeper over wealthy executives and expensive attorneys.
Caleb reached for the document.
Then stopped.
"Grace, would you be willing to tell my attorney what actually happened?"
I stared at him.
"Of course."
He nodded.
"Thank you."
That simple request meant more than another command ever could.
The next morning, we met with his attorney, Elizabeth Warren.
She reviewed the affidavit.
Then looked at me.
"Ms. Holloway, did you authorize anyone to use your electronic signature?"
"No."
"Have you ever signed documents on Mr. Mercer's behalf?"
"Never."
Elizabeth nodded.
"We'll contest the authenticity and provide your actual testimony."
Then she turned toward Caleb.
"And for the record, using a wheelchair doesn't mean you're incapable of managing your affairs."
Caleb gave a humorless laugh.
"Apparently Owen missed that distinction."
Elizabeth smiled faintly.
"Then the court can remind him."
Later, I returned to the estate to collect some personal belongings from the staff quarters.
Caleb had offered me paid leave while the legal proceedings continued.
I was grateful.
But I refused to hide.
As I walked through the west hallway, I noticed something unusual.
The door to Owen's former office stood open.
A young woman was inside, hurriedly packing files.
I recognized her.
Patricia Sloan.
Caleb's private nurse.
She froze when she saw me.
"Grace."
I stopped.
"Patricia."
Her eyes darted toward the exit.
"You shouldn't be here."
"Neither should you. Dr. Bennett said your access was suspended."
She looked down.
Then whispered:
"I need your help."
I stared.
"With what?"
She began crying.
"Owen has my daughter."
My heart stopped.
"What?"
Patricia gripped the folder against her chest.
"He told me if I didn't change Caleb's medication records, I'd never see her again."
I swallowed.
"Have you told the police?"
She shook her head.
"I'm afraid."
Then she opened the folder.
Inside were photographs of a little girl about eight years old.
And a document bearing Owen Pike's signature.
A private security contract.
Patricia looked at me desperately.
"Grace, I know where Owen keeps the original recordings from the night Caleb was shot."
I went still.
"Where?"
She lowered her voice.
"In the security vault beneath the east garage."
Then she revealed the secret Owen had spent weeks trying to protect.
"The shooting wasn't just an assassination attempt."
May you like
She swallowed.
"It was supposed to look like Caleb ordered the deaths of three innocent witnesses."
