Chapter 2 — The Man Who Wanted Daniel Gone
Daniel left the hospital room twenty minutes later.
He did not want to go.
I could see it in the way he stood beside my bed, one hand resting against the railing, his body angled toward the door but his eyes fixed on me.
“You need to handle this,” I told him.
“You just had emergency surgery.”
“And our children are in intensive care.”
“That’s exactly why I should stay.”
“That’s exactly why you need to protect us.”
His expression tightened.
“If the board believes you stole that money, they could freeze our accounts,” I continued. “They could take the house. They could challenge everything connected to the trust.”
“I’m not leaving you alone.”
“Detective Reed stationed an officer outside.”
“That isn’t the same.”
“No. It isn’t.”
I reached for his hand.
“But Vanessa planned this for months. Maybe longer. She expected you to be overseas when the audit package arrived. She expected me to give her the trust code before anyone understood what was happening.”
Daniel looked at our joined hands.
“She expected you to be dead.”
Neither of us spoke for several seconds.
Then I squeezed his fingers.
“She failed.”
He finally nodded.
“I’ll be back before they take you to see the babies.”
“Promise?”
“I promise.”
He kissed my forehead and left.
As soon as the door closed, the room felt too quiet.
I tried to rest, but every time I closed my eyes, I saw Vanessa’s face above me.
Not angry.
Desperate.
There had been hatred in her expression, but there had also been fear.
At the time, I believed she feared being caught.
Now I wondered whether she feared someone else.
An hour later, a nurse helped me into a wheelchair.
The movement sent fire through my abdomen, but I refused additional medication until after I saw the twins. I wanted my mind clear.
The NICU was dim and warm.
Soft alarms sounded from every direction.
Rows of incubators stood beneath low lights, each holding a life too small and fragile for the world outside.
The nurse pushed me toward two incubators beside each other.
My son lay on the left.
My daughter lay on the right.
For a moment, I could not breathe.
They were impossibly tiny.
Their skin was red and delicate. Thin tubes ran beneath their noses. Wires covered their chests. Their little hands rested near their faces, smaller than the top joint of my thumb.
“These are your babies,” the nurse said softly.
I pressed one hand against my mouth.
“My son?”
“Baby A. Three pounds, fourteen ounces.”
“And my daughter?”
“Three pounds, six ounces.”
My daughter’s fingers moved.
I reached through the opening in the incubator and touched the side of her hand.
Her fingers closed around the tip of mine.
That tiny grip nearly broke me.
“Hi,” I whispered. “I’m your mom.”
My son shifted at the sound of my voice.
“You weren’t supposed to meet us yet. You were supposed to stay safe a little longer.”
Tears slid down my face.
“I’m sorry.”
“You have nothing to apologize for.”
I looked up.
Daniel stood several feet away.
He had returned without my hearing him.
His expression softened as he approached the incubators.
“What happened at the company?” I asked.
“Later.”
“Daniel.”
“Not here.”
That answer told me enough.
Something had gone badly.
He crouched beside my wheelchair and stared at our children.
“Our son has your nose,” he said.
“He has a breathing tube.”
“He can still have your nose.”
Despite everything, I laughed.
It hurt.
I did not care.
Daniel reached into the second incubator and touched our daughter’s foot.
“What do we call them?” he asked.
We had spent months arguing playfully over names, but we had never made a final decision.
Now, looking at them, the answer felt obvious.
“Ethan,” I said, looking at our son.
Daniel nodded.
“My father’s middle name.”
“And Grace.”
He looked at our daughter.
“Because she survived?”
“Because all of us did.”
His eyes filled.
“Ethan and Grace Mercer.”
The nurse gave us several quiet minutes before reminding me that I needed to return to my room.
Daniel walked beside the wheelchair.
Once the doors closed behind us, I asked again.
“What happened?”
“The board suspended me.”
I stopped breathing.
“Effective immediately?”
“Yes.”
“Can they do that without proof?”
“They can remove my access while the investigation continues.”
“What did the anonymous package contain?”
“Copies of every fraudulent transfer. All bearing my credentials.”
“Anything else?”
“A signed confession.”
I turned toward him.
“What?”
“A document claiming I created Northstar Consulting to divert corporate funds.”
“That’s insane.”
“It includes details only senior executives would know.”
“Was the signature forged?”
“Yes.”
“Can you prove it?”
“Eventually.”
“Eventually may be too late.”
“I know.”
He wheeled me into the room and helped the nurse settle me back in bed.
Once we were alone, Daniel removed his jacket and tossed it onto the chair.
“Richard wanted me to resign quietly.”
“Why would he ask you to resign if he believes you’re innocent?”
“He doesn’t.”
“You and Richard have worked together for twelve years.”
“He said the evidence was overwhelming.”
“Did you tell him about Vanessa?”
“Yes.”
“And?”
“He thinks I’m blaming my sister because she was arrested.”
“That makes no sense. The forged documents were found in her bag.”
“He said the police have not released that information publicly.”
“Meaning?”
“Meaning he thinks I could have created those documents and planted them on her.”
I stared at him.
“Richard has known you since college.”
“People become very cautious when half a million dollars disappears.”
There was something in Daniel’s expression.
“What else happened?”
He hesitated.
“The board appointed an interim chief financial officer.”
“Who?”
“Elliot Crane.”
The name meant little to me at first.
Then I remembered.
Elliot was Mercer-Lane’s vice president of strategic operations. He was ambitious, polished, and always smiling in photographs. At company dinners, he complimented me too often and listened too closely whenever Daniel discussed future plans.
Daniel had once told me Elliot believed he should have been promoted to CFO years earlier.
“He wants your job,” I said.
“He’s wanted it since before my father died.”
“Is he the person you mentioned to Detective Reed?”
“One of them.”
“One of them?”
Daniel leaned against the wall.
“There are three people who could benefit from removing me.”
“Elliot.”
“Yes.”
“Who else?”
“Richard.”
“The CEO?”
“If the missing money is connected to executive misconduct, blaming me protects him and the company.”
“And the third?”
Daniel looked toward the closed door.
“My uncle.”
I frowned.
“Victor?”
Victor Mercer was Daniel’s father’s older brother and the only member of the Mercer family still serving on the company board.
He was also Vanessa’s godfather.
“Why would Victor frame you?”
“My father left me his voting shares.”
“I know.”
“Victor challenged the will.”
“But he lost.”
“He never accepted it.”
I remembered the funeral.
Victor standing alone beside the grave after everyone else left.
Vanessa beside him, her arm linked through his.
Daniel had been too devastated to notice the look they exchanged.
I had not.
“Victor always favored Vanessa,” I said.
“He paid for her university. He invested in her firm. When her business began failing, he persuaded several of his contacts to hire her.”
“So he could have given her access to company information.”
“Possibly.”
“And if you were charged with theft?”
“My voting rights could be suspended. Victor would gain temporary control of my shares under the company’s ethics provisions.”
The entire scheme sharpened into focus.
“This isn’t just about money.”
“No.”
“It’s about the company.”
Daniel nodded.
A knock interrupted us.
Detective Reed entered carrying an evidence envelope.
“Mr. Mercer, I need to ask whether you recognize this.”
He placed a photograph on the tray table.
It showed a silver key attached to a blue plastic tag.
The number 417 had been written across it.
Daniel studied the image.
“No.”
“It was found inside Vanessa’s coat.”
“What does it open?”
“We traced the tag to a storage facility outside the city.”
“Did you search the unit?”
“We obtained a warrant.”
Reed’s face revealed nothing.
“What did you find?” I asked.
“A printer used to produce legal documents. Blank company checks. Copies of Daniel’s passport and driver’s license.”
Daniel swore under his breath.
“And a set of audio recordings,” Reed continued.
“What kind of recordings?”
“Conversations between Vanessa and an unidentified man.”
“Do we get to hear them?”
“Some of them.”
He removed his phone and played a short clip.
Vanessa’s voice came first.
“I can’t get into the trust without her code.”
A man answered.
His voice was distorted, either by software or poor recording quality.
“Then make her give it to you.”
“She’s pregnant.”
“That’s not my problem.”
“What if something happens?”
A pause.
Then the man replied.
“Something was always going to happen.”
The recording ended.
A chill spread across my skin.
“What does that mean?” Daniel asked.
“We don’t know,” Reed said.
“You think the attack was planned?”
“We think Vanessa was under pressure to obtain the trust funds. Whether the assault was premeditated is still under investigation.”
“Can you identify the man?”
“Not yet.”
Daniel stared at the phone.
“Play it again.”
Reed did.
The voice was masked, but beneath the distortion there was a cadence.
A pause between words.
A faint breath before the final sentence.
Daniel’s face slowly changed.
“You recognize him,” I said.
“I’m not sure.”
“Who?”
He looked at Reed.
“Elliot Crane has a habit of saying ‘that’s not my problem’ whenever someone questions his decisions.”
“That isn’t enough for identification,” Reed said.
“I know.”
“Did your sister have a relationship with Mr. Crane?”
“Not that I knew of.”
I remembered a company Christmas gala the previous year.
Vanessa had arrived late.
Elliot had disappeared from the ballroom shortly afterward.
At the time, I had assumed it was coincidence.
Now I saw the moment differently.
“They knew each other,” I said.
Daniel looked at me.
“At the holiday gala, I saw them speaking near the service corridor.”
“When?”
“Last December.”
“What were they doing?”
“Arguing.”
“Why didn’t you tell me?”
“Because I didn’t hear what they said.”
Reed wrote something in his notebook.
“What did you observe?”
“Vanessa looked frightened. Elliot grabbed her wrist. She pulled away.”
Daniel’s eyes hardened.
“He touched her?”
“It lasted only a second.”
“Could anyone else have seen it?”
“The ballroom was crowded.”
Reed closed the notebook.
“We’ll interview him.”
“Vanessa is still in custody?” I asked.
“For now.”
“What does that mean?”
“Her attorney filed for emergency bail.”
“She tried to kill my children.”
“The defense is characterizing the event as a family dispute that escalated.”
Daniel stepped forward.
“The recording proves she was working with someone.”
“It proves she discussed obtaining the trust code. The defense will argue that it does not prove intent to cause physical harm.”
“Then use the security footage.”
“We will.”
Reed’s voice remained calm.
“But you should prepare yourselves. The defense may challenge the video’s chain of custody. They may claim the recording was altered.”
“That system is encrypted,” Daniel said.
“So your attorney will need the original server logs.”
“I’ll provide them.”
Reed nodded and turned toward the door.
Before leaving, he paused.
“There’s one more thing.”
Daniel waited.
“The storage unit contained photographs.”
“What photographs?”
“You. Your wife. Your house. Your daily schedules.”
My heartbeat quickened.
“How long have they been watching us?”
“Some of the images are dated seven months ago.”
Seven months.
Before the trust documents were finalized.
Before Daniel’s overseas trip was scheduled.
Before Vanessa asked him for money.
“This was planned before her business failed,” I said.
Reed’s silence confirmed that he was thinking the same thing.
After he left, Daniel locked the door.
Then he checked the bathroom, the closet, and the space behind the curtains.
“What are you doing?”
“Making sure no one is here.”
“This is a hospital.”
“So?”
I watched him return to my bedside.
“Daniel, someone has been monitoring us for months.”
“I know.”
“They knew when you would be overseas.”
“I know.”
“They knew about the trust.”
“I know.”
“And Vanessa may not be the person in charge.”
He sat beside me.
“No,” he said quietly. “She may be the easiest person to blame.”
My phone buzzed on the bedside table.
Daniel reached for it.
The screen displayed an unknown number.
A text message waited beneath it.
Do not trust Daniel.
He is lying about the money.
May you like
A second message appeared before either of us could react.
Ask him what happened to the first $200,000.
