Chapter 16 - Nora Mercer Goes to WarEveryone expected Adam to become dangerous.
Instead, Nora did.
Monday morning, she walked into Haven House headquarters wearing a navy dress and carrying forty-seven pages of financial records.
Her board was waiting.
So were lawyers.
Donors.
Public-relations consultants.
Adam sat at the far end of the table.
Not beside her.
Not speaking for her.
Nora had asked him to attend only as counsel.
He respected that.
She stood.
“Victor Lang's twelve-million-dollar donation is frozen effective immediately.”
One board member nearly choked.
“Nora—”
“We will not spend another dollar until investigators determine whether those funds came from criminal activity.”
“That could cripple expansion.”
“Yes.”
“Families are depending on us.”
“Which is why Haven House cannot become dependent on money we may have to return.”
Silence.
A donor asked, “What about the Ann Arbor property?”
“We stay open.”
“Can you guarantee that?”
“No.”
Adam looked at her.
Months earlier, she had promised a frightened mother nobody would be evicted.
Today she gave the harder answer.
The truthful one.
Nora continued.
“I can guarantee this: no family will learn what's happening from a headline before they hear it from us.”
Adam felt something almost like pride.
Not ownership.
Not “that's my wife.”
Simply admiration.
After the meeting, he followed her into her office.
“That was impressive.”
Nora dropped into her chair.
“I think I may vomit.”
“Still impressive.”
She laughed.
Adam handed her water.
“Rebecca called.”
Nora looked up.
“They found Daniel?”
“No.”
His expression told her something else had happened.
“They found his car.”
Nora froze.
“It was found six years ago.”
“The original car, yes.”
Adam sat.
“Police believed it was abandoned near Lake Geneva.”
“And?”
“Daniel wasn't driving it.”
Nora stared.
“Traffic-camera footage was recovered from an archived municipal server.”
“After six years?”
“Apparently governments never delete anything except when you desperately need them not to.”
“Adam.”
He became serious.
“A man drove Daniel's car.”
“Who?”
“We don't know.”
Nora leaned back.
“What about Victor?”
“No match.”
She closed her eyes.
Adam watched her.
“You okay?”
“No.”
“Want me to say something comforting?”
“Are you capable?”
“Limited evidence.”
She smiled despite herself.
Then his phone rang.
Sophie.
Adam answered.
She was crying.
“Someone broke into my apartment.”
He stood.
“Are you hurt?”
“No.”
“Where are you?”
“Police station.”
“What did they take?”
Silence.
“Sophie?”
“My father's journal.”
Adam looked at Nora.
“What journal?”
“The one I never told Rebecca about.”
His jaw tightened.
Nora immediately saw the old instinct flare.
Why didn't you tell us?
Why did you hide evidence?
Adam closed his eyes.
When he opened them, his voice was controlled.
“Okay.”
Sophie sounded surprised.
“Okay?”
“We'll deal with why later. What was in it?”
“Names.”
“What names?”
“I don't know all of them.”
“Sophie.”
“One was yours.”
Adam froze.
Nora stood.
“What?”
Sophie continued.
“My father wrote about you repeatedly.”
“In what context?”
“He thought Richard was grooming you.”
Adam looked sick.
“There was one entry I remember.”
“What?”
Sophie hesitated.
“He wrote: Adam still thinks ambition is his greatest strength. Richard knows it's his greatest weakness.”
Adam said nothing.
Then Sophie added:
“There was another name.”
Nora asked, “Whose?”
“Eleanor Bennett.”
Nora stopped breathing.
Her mother's name.
Adam stared at her.
Nora whispered, “That's impossible.”
Sophie said, “Your mother knew Daniel.”
“No.”
“She did.”
“How?”
“I don't know.”
Nora's mind raced.
Eleanor had been a school counselor.
Widowed early.
Quiet.
Practical.
She had never belonged to Adam's corporate world.
“Are you sure?”
“Yes.”
Nora sat down.
Adam crouched beside her.
“What did Daniel write?”
Sophie answered slowly.
“Only one sentence that I remember.”
Nora waited.
Sophie spoke.
“Eleanor has the original ledger.”
The room went silent.
Nora looked toward Adam.
Her mother had been dead for four years.
May you like
And suddenly a box of letters Adam had returned to Nora at Christmas no longer felt sentimental.
It felt like evidence.
