Chapter 3 - The Billion-Dollar Reason
The phone call came while Leo was being examined in the hospital.
Julian almost ignored it.
Unknown number.
New York area code.
He answered only because Leo had finally stopped crying.
“Mr. Mercer?”
“Yes.”
“My name is Nathaniel Ross. I was your father’s estate counsel.”
Julian straightened.
“My father’s been dead for two years.”
“I’m aware.”
“Then why are you calling me?”
A pause.
“Because someone has spent the last five months trying to remove your son from your father’s estate.”
Julian felt cold.
“What?”
“I think we should speak in person.”
One hour later, with Leo still under observation, Julian sat in a private hospital conference room.
Nathaniel placed a thick folder in front of him.
At the top:
THE ARTHUR MERCER DESCENDANT CONTROL TRUST
Julian stared.
“I've never seen this.”
“Your father intended it that way.”
“What does it do?”
Nathaniel opened the folder.
“Mercer Dominion has two classes of shares. Your father placed fifty-four percent of the voting class into this trust.”
“For me?”
“No.”
Nathaniel turned a page.
“For your first verified biological descendant.”
Julian stopped breathing.
“Leo.”
“Yes.”
“How much is that worth?”
“Economically? Depending on valuation, somewhere north of nine hundred million.”
Julian barely reacted.
Nathaniel continued.
“In terms of control?”
He closed the folder.
“Much more.”
Julian thought about Eleanor.
The fake DNA report.
Rebecca.
The staircase.
“When did my mother learn about this?”
Nathaniel slid a certified delivery receipt across the table.
Seven months earlier.
Signed:
Eleanor V. Mercer.
Julian stared at the signature.
One month before Rebecca died.
“She knew.”
“Yes.”
“Has she challenged it?”
Nathaniel's expression changed.
“Her attorneys have.”
“On what basis?”
“That Leo is not your biological son.”
Julian sat back.
Suddenly, every cruel remark had a purpose.
Every photograph.
Every insinuation.
Every whispered doubt.
It hadn't been a grieving grandmother losing perspective.
It had been a campaign.
“Why would my father create this?”
Nathaniel hesitated.
Julian caught it.
“What aren't you telling me?”
“Your father was investigating irregularities inside the Mercer Family Foundation.”
“What kind of irregularities?”
“Money.”
“How much?”
“We don't know.”
“Who was he investigating?”
Nathaniel did not answer.
He did not need to.
Julian closed his eyes.
“My mother.”
“Yes.”
His phone buzzed.
Detective Elena Torres.
The police were already at the estate.
Julian answered.
“Mr. Mercer?”
“Yes.”
“We've reached the security room.”
Julian stood.
“And?”
“There’s a problem.”
“What problem?”
“Someone deleted the staircase footage.”
Julian’s jaw tightened.
“When?”
“Approximately twelve minutes after your 911 call.”
Julian stared through the hospital glass at Leo sleeping against a nurse’s shoulder.
Only three people had administrator access to the estate security system.
Julian.
His mother.
And the security director.
Julian had been at the hospital.
Eleanor had been speaking to police.
Which left one person.
“Where is Grant Holloway?”
The detective went silent.
Then:
“That’s the other problem.”
May you like
“What?”
“He disappeared.”
