Chapter 4 - THE MILLION DOLLARS
Travis did not believe Lorraine.
Elise did.
That scared me.
Not because she trusted Lorraine.
Because the accusation matched something she had wondered about for years.
“My father—Grant—used to say William was paid.”
Travis stared.
“You never told us.”
“I thought it was another lie.”
“Maybe it was.”
Caroline opened the financial binder.
“Then we check.”
Lorraine laughed from the sofa.
“You’re all so naive.”
The attorney asked her to stop interfering.
She ignored him.
“William Mercer was not a saint.”
Travis answered:
“Nobody said he was.”
“You act like he rescued everyone.”
“No.”
He looked at her.
“He stayed.”
That shut her up briefly.
We searched old trust records.
The payment from Grant Holloway existed.
One million dollars.
Transferred three days before Elise disappeared.
Recipient:
MERCER HOLDINGS ESCROW.
Travis went pale.
Elise sat down.
“He took it.”
Caroline shook her head.
“Wait.”
She turned another page.
The money didn’t remain there.
It moved eighteen days later.
To a custodial account.
Beneficiary:
ELISE MERCER.
Everyone froze.
Elise stared.
“What?”
The account had grown.
Investments.
Interest.
Dividends.
Current value:
$4.8 million.
Elise covered her mouth.
William hadn’t kept the money.
He preserved it for her.
Lorraine stopped smiling.
Travis looked at his mother.
“You knew.”
She said nothing.
“You knew Dad put it away for Elise.”
“No.”
Caroline held up a signed acknowledgment.
Lorraine’s signature.
“You signed this.”
Lorraine went white.
Elise looked at her.
“Why didn’t I know?”
Lorraine whispered:
“Because Grant would have taken it.”
Reasonable.
Possibly.
Then Elise asked:
“Why didn’t you tell me after he died?”
No answer.
Grant had died twelve years earlier.
Elise had been an adult.
Married.
Safe.
Lorraine still never told her.
Elise’s voice hardened.
“Why?”
Lorraine looked away.
Then Travis saw another document.
“What is this?”
A withdrawal request.
Submitted six years earlier.
For $900,000.
Requester:
Lorraine Mercer.
Denied.
Because Elise’s signature was required.
Travis laughed bitterly.
“There.”
Elise stared.
“You tried to take it.”
“I needed money.”
“For what?”
Lorraine snapped:
“You have no idea what it costs to maintain this family.”
Elise almost screamed.
“You SOLD me and then tried to steal the money!”
Lorraine stood.
“I did not sell you!”
“Then what do you call accepting a million dollars while signing me over?”
“He was your biological father!”
“He abused me!”
The room died.
Travis’s face changed.
“What?”
Elise looked down.
There it was.
The secret beneath the secret.
“Not sexually.”
She said it quickly.
“But emotionally.”
Control.
Isolation.
Punishment.
Grant demanded she use his surname.
Forbade mentioning William.
Told her Lorraine chose him because William never loved her.
“He made me write letters saying I was happy.”
Elise wiped her face.
“He sent some to Lorraine.”
Travis looked at his mother.
“You got letters?”
“Yes.”
“And did nothing?”
“She seemed fine.”
Elise laughed through tears.
“I was ten.”
Lorraine shouted:
“What did you expect me to do?”
“Come get me!”
Silence.
That answer was so obvious nobody moved.
Elise continued.
“I waited every birthday.”
Her voice broke.
“I thought one year you’d walk through the door.”
Lorraine started crying.
Real tears, maybe.
But Elise wasn’t done.
“You didn’t.”
“I was afraid.”
“You always are when courage costs you something.”
Lorraine flinched.
Then we heard a knock.
Family attorney opened the door.
Two men stood outside.
One identified himself as a representative from Holloway Legacy Partners.
Elise froze.
“What do you want?”
He held up papers.
“We’ve been trying to contact Elise Holloway-Mercer regarding a dormant family claim.”
Lorraine went white.
Again.
Travis noticed.
“What claim?”
The representative said:
“Grant Holloway’s estate.”
Elise stared.
“I want nothing from him.”
“This isn’t an inheritance request.”
“Then what?”
He hesitated.
“Mr. Holloway left controlling interest in a private foundation to his biological descendants.”
Elise laughed bitterly.
“Of course.”
“However…”
He looked at Zia.
“His trust contains a descendant clause.”
My stomach tightened.
“What does Zia have to do with Grant?”
Nothing genetically.
Then the man said:
“Not Zia.”
He looked at Elise.
“Your son.”
Elise went still.
Her fifteen-year-old son, Noah, had never been mentioned by Lorraine.
Apparently Grant’s estate had been searching for him.
The representative continued.
“Mr. Holloway’s foundation is currently worth approximately sixty-two million dollars.”
Lorraine sat down.
Everyone stared.
Elise shook her head.
“No.”
The man continued.
“The current trustees need your son’s consent at age sixteen to preserve control.”
Elise frowned.
“What happens if he refuses?”
“Control reverts to the alternate beneficiary.”
“Who?”
The representative looked uncomfortable.
Then at Lorraine.
“Mrs. Lorraine Mercer.”
The room exploded.
“No.”
Lorraine stood.
“That’s not—”
Elise laughed.
“You knew.”
Lorraine said nothing.
“You knew about Noah’s trust.”
“No.”
The representative pulled out correspondence.
Letters sent to Lake Juniper.
Signed for by Lorraine.
Three years earlier.
She knew.
Of course she knew.
Travis stared at his mother.
“Is there any child in this family you didn’t try to financially benefit from?”
Lorraine screamed:
“I spent my life taking care of everyone!”
“No.”
Caroline shook her head.
“You spent your life controlling access.”
Elise looked at the representative.
“What does my son need to do?”
“Nothing today.”
“Good.”
She pointed toward Lorraine.
“And she gets nothing.”
The man nodded carefully.
“That is likely, provided Noah reaches sixteen and executes the beneficiary direction.”
Lorraine whispered:
“When?”
Elise turned.
Her face changed.
“Why?”
Lorraine realized the mistake.
Too late.
Elise’s son turned sixteen in nine days.
Nine days.
That explained why Lorraine had suddenly called a Christmas family gathering so aggressively.
Maybe Zia wasn’t the only target.
Maybe Lorraine needed control of Lake Juniper for another reason.
Caroline opened her phone.
“Where is Noah?”
Elise frowned.
“At my hotel with my husband.”
Caroline called.
No answer.
Elise tried.
Nothing.
Again.
Nothing.
Her face drained.
Then her phone buzzed.
A photograph.
Noah sitting in the back seat of a car.
Alive.
Confused.
Beside him sat Lorraine’s brother, Uncle Mark.
Message:
Family business. Don’t involve police.
Elise screamed.
May you like
And suddenly the seventy-two-hour eviction didn’t matter.
Lorraine’s final play had begun.
