Chapter 5 - The Man With Grant’s Last NameGrant's signature was perfect.
That was the problem.
The authorization included his digital certificate, executive credentials, and biometric approval record.
Someone hadn't merely forged him.
Someone had accessed systems designed to make forgery impossible.
Grant ordered the transfer frozen.
It was too late.
Fourteen million dollars had moved through three accounts before disappearing into an offshore holding company.
By evening, Mercer Urban Design's board knew.
By morning, the press knew.
MILLIONAIRE CEO LINKED TO MISSING FUNDS.
Grant stood in his kitchen reading the headline while Sophie ate cereal.
“Are you going to jail?” she asked.
Grant nearly dropped his coffee.
“No.”
She considered that.
“Mommy said innocent people can still get in trouble.”
Grant looked at her.
“Your mother is unfortunately correct.”
Emily remained hospitalized.
The twins had been temporarily placed with Grant after DNA results arrived.
Probability of paternity: 99.9998 percent.
Grant read the result alone.
Then again.
He was their father.
Legally.
Biologically.
Irrefutably.
He expected joy.
Instead he cried.
Sadie found him sitting on the edge of his bed.
She didn't ask why.
She simply climbed beside him and rested her head against his arm.
After a minute she said, “Sophie cries in bathrooms.”
Grant wiped his face.
“What?”
“When she doesn't want me to know.”
That evening Grant found Sophie beside the guest-room window.
“You okay?”
“Yes.”
“Sadie says you cry in bathrooms.”
Sophie looked betrayed.
“She's not supposed to tell.”
Grant sat on the floor rather than towering over her.
“You don't have to be strong all the time.”
“Yes, I do.”
“Why?”
“Because Sadie's scared.”
“So are you.”
Sophie looked down.
Grant continued.
“And so am I.”
That got her attention.
“Adults get scared?”
“Constantly. We're just better at hiding it.”
A reluctant smile appeared.
Then Sophie whispered, “Mr. Bell said nobody wants kids who make trouble.”
Grant's expression hardened.
“You aren't trouble.”
“He said Mommy didn't want us anymore.”
“He lied.”
“He said if we ran away, police would lock us up.”
“He lied about that too.”
Sophie finally looked directly at him.
“Do you want us?”
The question destroyed every defense Grant possessed.
He moved closer.
“I missed six years I didn't know existed. I'm not voluntarily missing another day.”
Sophie stared at him.
“Is that yes?”
“Yes.”
She nodded once.
Then leaned into him.
Grant wrapped his arms around his daughter for the first time.
The next morning, Rachel uncovered Charles Mercer.
He was sixty-eight.
Living in Indiana under the name Charles Merrick.
Grant drove there with a private investigator.
Charles lived in a modest brick house outside Valparaiso.
The man who opened the door looked so much like Grant's father that Grant stopped breathing.
Charles stared back.
“William's boy.”
“My name is Grant.”
“I know your name.”
“Did you hurt Emily Carter?”
Charles's face changed.
“No.”
“Did you steal fourteen million dollars?”
“No.”
“Did you threaten my daughters?”
Charles laughed bitterly.
“If I wanted your money, I'd have taken you to court twenty years ago.”
“You've been watching my company.”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“Because somebody's been stealing from it.”
Grant frowned.
Charles let him inside.
The house contained boxes of documents.
Old property deeds.
Trust papers.
Bank statements.
Charles explained that William had not cut him out because of gambling.
That story had been convenient.
Charles had discovered their father's business manager stealing from family accounts.
William refused to believe him.
The brothers fought.
Years later, William discovered Charles had been right.
But pride kept them apart.
“So why didn't my father tell me?”
“Because William Mercer could apologize to everyone except his own brother.”
Charles handed Grant an old photograph.
William and Charles stood together outside a small Chicago house.
Grant recognized the front steps from childhood.
On the back, his father had written:
Someday fix what I couldn't.
Grant sat silently.
“Emily found me,” Charles said.
“When?”
“Four months ago.”
“She believed you were stealing.”
“At first.”
“What changed?”
“I showed her the real accounts.”
Charles opened another folder.
The theft from Mercer Urban Design had been happening for eleven years.
Nathan was involved.
But he wasn't alone.
Several transfers were authorized by a second executive.
Grant recognized the name.
Eleanor Price.
His chief financial officer.
The same woman who had called him about the missing fourteen million.
Grant felt sick.
“She framed me.”
Charles nodded.
“And Nathan?”
“Greedy. Cowardly. But Eleanor is smarter.”
“Did she attack Emily?”
“I can't prove it.”
Grant's phone rang.
Rachel.
He answered.
Her voice was urgent.
“Grant, get back here.”
“What happened?”
“Emily checked herself out.”
“What?”
“She left the hospital forty minutes ago.”
“Why?”
“We don't know.”
Grant called Emily.
No answer.
Then Sophie called him from the penthouse.
Her voice was shaking.
“Dad?”
It was the first time she had called him that.
Grant barely had time to feel it.
“What happened?”
“Mommy came here.”
“She's there?”
“She was.”
Grant stood.
“What do you mean, was?”
“She packed our things.”
“Where did she go?”
“She said she had to keep us safe.”
“Where are you and Sadie?”
Sophie began crying.
“She took Sadie.”
Grant's blood went cold.
“Why didn't she take you?”
“I hid.”
“Why?”
“Because Mommy wasn't alone.”
Grant gripped the phone.
“Who was with her?”
May you like
Sophie whispered the answer.
“Mr. Bell.”
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