Chapter 2 - The Woman Who Wanted His Empire
Evelyn Hart had spent five years trying to become Mrs. Caleb Mercer.
Now she was trying to become the owner of everything he controlled.
Caleb stared at the document.
"She forged my signature."
I leaned closer.
"How can you tell?"
He pointed toward the bottom.
"My signature has three letters connected. This one has a space between them."
I studied it.
He was right.
The difference was tiny.
But unmistakable.
"Can they actually use this?" I asked.
"Not without a court process and supporting evidence."
His voice hardened.
"But Owen controls the records they're preparing to submit."
I felt cold.
"Then we need someone outside the household."
Caleb looked at me.
For a moment, he seemed surprised.
"You said we."
I blushed.
"I work here."
"That's not what I meant."
I looked away.
Before I could answer, someone knocked.
"Mr. Mercer?"
It was Dr. Samuel Bennett, Caleb's rehabilitation physician.
"Come in."
The doctor entered carrying a tablet.
He smiled at me.
"Good morning, Grace."
"Morning, Doctor."
Then he looked at Caleb.
"I hear you finally slept."
Caleb glanced at me.
"Apparently, your medical expertise has been replaced by a housekeeper with tea."
Dr. Bennett laughed.
"I'll take whatever improvement I can get."
He examined Caleb carefully.
His recovery remained uncertain, but there were encouraging signs in his upper-body strength and stability.
Then the doctor frowned.
"Caleb, did someone change your medication schedule?"
Caleb looked up.
"What?"
"The nursing records show your evening pain medication was increased three days ago."
I stared at him.
"Was it?"
Caleb shook his head.
"I didn't authorize a change."
The doctor's expression hardened.
"Neither did I."
Silence filled the room.
Dr. Bennett reviewed the chart.
An electronic authorization appeared beside the new dosage.
It carried his name.
But he hadn't signed it.
My stomach tightened.
"Could that explain why he's been so tired?"
The doctor nodded cautiously.
"It could contribute. We need to review the medications and monitor him carefully."
Caleb stared at the tablet.
"Who changed the chart?"
Dr. Bennett checked the access history.
Then his face went pale.
"The order was entered using the household medical administrator's credentials."
Caleb's eyes narrowed.
"Who has those?"
The doctor hesitated.
"Your private nurse."
I swallowed.
Her name was Patricia Sloan.
She'd worked for the Mercer family for eleven years.
She was the person who insisted Caleb needed to sleep whenever his attorneys called.
The person who told staff he was too weak for visitors.
And the person who had warned me never to question his medications.
Caleb reached for his phone.
"Gabriel."
His security chief answered immediately.
"Boss?"
"Find Patricia. Don't let her alter or remove any records. Contact the doctor and investigators."
A pause.
"Understood."
Caleb ended the call.
Then he looked at me.
"Grace, I need to ask you something."
"What?"
"Did Patricia ever tell you not to enter my room?"
I nodded.
"Every night."
His expression darkened.
"Why?"
I hesitated.
"She said you were dangerous when you woke up."
Caleb closed his eyes.
Then I remembered something else.
"Wait."
He looked up.
"Three nights ago, I saw her carry a medical bag out of the west wing."
"What kind of bag?"
"Black leather. With a red tag."
Caleb went completely still.
May you like
That bag belonged to the doctor who had treated him immediately after the shooting.
The doctor who disappeared from Chicago two weeks earlier.
