Chapter 6 - THE PRICE OF TRUSTNathan stared at the photograph Hannah sent.
The five-million-dollar check lay torn across the Bridge House desk.
For several seconds, he couldn’t speak.
“Why did you do that?” he finally asked.
Hannah sounded genuinely confused.
“Because someone tried to buy me.”
“It could have funded Bridge House for a decade.”
“I know.”
“So why not keep it?”
“Because dirty money doesn’t become clean because children need books.”
Nathan closed his eyes.
That sentence would stay with him for years.
“What if the check was real?”
“It probably was.”
“You could have deposited it.”
“And then?”
“And then Bridge House survives.”
“At the cost of what?”
He had no answer.
Hannah lowered her voice.
“People like Vanessa think everyone has a price because everyone around them eventually proves it.”
Nathan sat behind his desk.
“You think I believe that too.”
“I think you used to.”
Used to.
The words mattered.
Two hours later, Nathan’s legal team confirmed the check had been issued from a legitimate Mercer Family Foundation account.
That was impossible.
Vanessa had no authorization.
Nathan summoned the foundation’s chief financial officer.
She arrived pale.
“I didn’t approve it.”
“Who did?”
“I’m checking.”
“Check faster.”
By evening, they discovered credentials belonging to Rachel Mercer had been used.
Nathan’s anger turned to fear.
He called his sister.
No answer.
Again.
Nothing.
He drove to her apartment.
The door was unlocked.
“Rachel?”
Silence.
Her purse lay on the kitchen counter.
Phone beside it.
Car keys untouched.
Nathan’s heart pounded.
Then he heard movement.
Rachel emerged from the bedroom holding an ice pack against her forehead.
“What happened?”
“I’m fine.”
“You’re bleeding.”
“I said I’m fine.”
Nathan grabbed his phone.
“I’m calling an ambulance.”
“No.”
“Rachel.”
“Someone came in.”
He froze.
“When?”
“Maybe an hour ago. I was in the kitchen. Heard the door. Thought it was you.”
She sat down.
“A man grabbed me. Wanted my foundation password.”
Nathan’s face went white.
“I fought. He shoved me into the counter.”
“Did you see him?”
“Baseball cap. Mask.”
Nathan crouched beside her.
“Why didn’t you call?”
“He took my phone.”
Rachel pointed toward the device.
“Then brought it back.”
Nathan frowned.
“Why?”
“I don’t know.”
His security team arrived within fifteen minutes.
Police followed.
Hannah came later.
Nathan had not asked her to.
Rachel did.
When Hannah entered, Nathan was standing beside the window staring at nothing.
She walked over.
“You okay?”
“No.”
It was the first time she had heard him say that without qualification.
Hannah touched his hand.
He held hers.
Not because he was romantic.
Because he needed something solid.
Rachel watched from the sofa.
And smiled despite the bruise forming on her temple.
Later, investigators found something strange.
The attacker had not stolen valuables.
Not jewelry.
Not cash.
Not electronics.
Only Rachel’s temporary authentication token for the foundation banking system.
Enough to issue the five-million-dollar check.
“They wanted Hannah to deposit it,” Nathan said.
His attorney nodded.
“Why?”
“To make it look like she accepted a payoff.”
Hannah felt sick.
Nathan continued.
“Then someone leaks evidence that Bridge House received five million dollars while I suspended redevelopment. It becomes bribery.”
“And you?”
“I’m accused of misusing charitable assets for a romantic partner.”
Rachel whispered, “They wanted to destroy both of you.”
Nathan stood.
“Daniel isn’t smart enough for this.”
“Vanessa?” Hannah asked.
Nathan shook his head.
“Vanessa is clever. But this is corporate.”
He thought of the board meeting.
Charles Bell.
The sweat.
The fear.
Nathan’s security director entered.
“We found Daniel Price.”
“Where?”
“Wisconsin.”
“Bring him back.”
“He’s dead.”
Silence filled the room.
“What?”
“Car went off a rural highway. Local police initially called it an accident.”
“Initially?”
“They found the brake line cut.”
Hannah’s fingers tightened around Nathan’s.
The story had changed.
They were no longer investigating corruption.
Someone was willing to kill.
Nathan immediately turned to Hannah.
“You’re leaving Chicago.”
“No.”
“Yes.”
“Nathan—”
“No debate.”
“You don’t own me.”
“I know.”
“Then stop talking like you do.”
His fear exploded.
“Someone murdered Daniel!”
The room went silent.
Nathan lowered his voice.
“I can’t protect you if you keep behaving like this is an argument about independence.”
Hannah stepped closer.
“And you can’t protect me by controlling me.”
They stared at each other.
Two people shaped by completely different forms of fear.
Nathan feared losing.
Hannah feared becoming dependent.
Neither understood the other enough yet.
Hannah finally said, “I’ll stay somewhere safer.”
Nathan nodded.
“My penthouse.”
“No.”
“Hannah.”
“Absolutely not.”
Rachel raised a hand from the couch.
“My place has security.”
Nathan turned.
Rachel smiled weakly.
“And apparently criminals already know the address, so we might as well be practical.”
Hannah laughed despite herself.
Nathan did not.
Eventually, Hannah agreed to stay at Nathan’s guest apartment in another building owned through a private trust.
No press.
No public records linking it directly to him.
That night Nathan drove her there himself.
At the door, Hannah stopped.
“You’re scared.”
“Yes.”
“For Rachel?”
“Yes.”
“For me?”
He looked at her.
“More than I want to admit.”
Hannah’s expression softened.
“Nathan, caring about someone doesn’t give you control over whether they get hurt.”
“I know.”
“No, you understand the sentence. That isn’t the same thing.”
He looked exhausted.
“What am I supposed to do?”
“Trust me enough to let me choose.”
Nathan lowered his eyes.
“I don’t know how.”
“I know.”
She kissed his cheek.
“Learn.”
The next morning, Hannah returned briefly to Bridge House under security escort.
Marcus was waiting.
He handed her a book.
Inside was a handwritten note.
Miss Cole, a man came yesterday asking about you. He said he was your father.
Hannah stopped breathing.
Her father had been dead for seventeen years.
She turned the note over.
A phone number was written on the back.
Nathan called it from a secure line.
A man answered.
“You finally found me.”
Nathan’s voice turned cold.
“Who are you?”
The man laughed.
“Ask Hannah what her mother did before she died.”
Hannah went pale.
Then the stranger said:
“And ask her why Nathan Mercer’s father paid her family forty thousand dollars.”
The call ended.
Nathan looked at Hannah.
May you like
Neither spoke.
Because suddenly the story between them had begun twenty years before they met.
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