Chapter 4 - THE WOMAN AT THE HEAD OF THE TABLE
Eleanor Mercer had never raised her voice in public.
She did not need to.
At sixty-three, Roman’s mother could silence a room by adjusting her gloves.
She had buried a husband, survived federal investigations, outlived three family rivals, and transformed herself from a politician’s daughter into the unquestioned matriarch of one of New England’s most feared families.
Roman had trusted very few people completely.
Eleanor Mercer had once been one of them.
Now he stood in a private hospital corridor staring at Matteo.
“Say it again.”
“The receiving number is registered to a phone assigned to your mother’s household office.”
“Assigned to her, or used by her?”
“We don’t know yet.”
Roman looked through the glass.
Claire was being prepared for surgery.
He could not leave.
That fact felt almost deliberate.
“Bring my mother here.”
Matteo stared at him.
“To the hospital?”
“Yes.”
“You think that’s wise?”
“No.”
Roman’s gaze hardened.
“But I’m done chasing ghosts.”
Forty minutes later, Claire was taken into surgery.
Roman wore blue surgical scrubs over clothing that cost more than the basement Claire had rented for a year.
None of it mattered.
Claire lay on the table behind a sterile drape.
She was shaking.
Roman sat beside her head.
“Cold?”
“Terrified.”
“Me too.”
She looked at him.
“You don’t look terrified.”
“I’ve had practice lying with my face.”
That made her smile for half a second.
Then Dr. Morgan spoke.
“We’re beginning.”
Roman held Claire’s hand.
Minutes became strange, stretched things.
Medical words moved around him.
Pressure.
Suction.
Heart rate.
Position.
Then suddenly—
A cry.
Small.
Sharp.
Alive.
Roman stopped breathing.
“One baby girl,” someone announced.
Claire started crying.
Roman did not realize tears had filled his own eyes until one fell onto their joined hands.
A nurse lifted a tiny red-faced infant above the drape.
“Twin A.”
Claire laughed through tears.
“Bean.”
Roman looked at his daughter.
For one second, the world became simple.
Then the room changed.
The medical team became faster.
More urgent.
Roman heard Dr. Morgan say, “Twin B is unstable.”
Claire’s smile vanished.
“What?”
Roman’s grip tightened.
Another minute.
Two.
Then—
A second cry.
Weaker than the first.
But there.
Claire sobbed.
Roman bowed his head.
“Twin B,” the nurse said. “She needs some support.”
“Can I see her?”
“Briefly.”
A second tiny face appeared.
Smaller.
Eyes closed.
A nurse carried her toward the neonatal team.
Claire tried to lift her head.
“Is she okay?”
Dr. Morgan answered carefully.
“She’s breathing. We’re taking her to NICU because she’s premature and had some distress.”
Roman leaned close to Claire.
“She’s alive.”
“Go with her.”
“I’m staying with you.”
“Roman.”
“No.”
“Please.”
He saw the fear in her eyes.
Not fear for herself.
For their child.
Roman nodded.
“I’ll go.”
Before leaving, he touched Claire’s forehead with his lips.
The motion was instinctive.
Claire went still.
Roman immediately pulled back.
“Sorry.”
She stared at him.
Then whispered, “Go.”
Outside the operating room, Matteo was waiting.
And beside him stood Eleanor Mercer.
Perfect cream coat.
Pearl earrings.
Silver hair pinned elegantly at her neck.
Roman stopped.
For the first time in his life, his mother looked uncertain when she saw him.
“Roman.”
He approached.
“My daughter is in intensive care.”
Eleanor’s face changed.
“Daughter?”
“Two daughters.”
Her lips parted.
Something flashed across her features.
Roman noticed it.
Not joy.
Not surprise.
Fear.
“You knew Claire was pregnant.”
Eleanor’s eyes moved toward Matteo.
“Not here.”
“Here is exactly where we’re doing this.”
“Roman, lower your voice.”
“I’m not raising it.”
That made the conversation more frightening.
He held out the burner phone.
“Why did this number receive a message about Claire this morning?”
Eleanor looked at it.
“I’ve never seen that telephone.”
“It was registered through your office.”
“Hundreds of devices go through my office.”
“Who knew Claire was pregnant?”
“I didn’t.”
“You just reacted like you did.”
Eleanor’s expression tightened.
“My granddaughter is in intensive care and you are interrogating me based on my facial expression.”
“Two granddaughters.”
For a second, Eleanor closed her eyes.
Then she said, “Thank God.”
Roman studied her.
“Where is Victor?”
That got a reaction.
Small.
But there.
“Why?”
“Answer.”
“I assume at the townhouse.”
Matteo spoke.
“He isn’t.”
Eleanor looked at him.
Matteo continued.
“Victor Dane disappeared forty minutes after Roman found Claire.”
Roman watched his mother.
Her skin visibly paled.
“You’re afraid,” Roman said.
“I am concerned.”
“No. You’re afraid.”
Eleanor looked toward the nurses nearby.
“Not here.”
Roman stepped closer.
“Then give me a reason to leave the hospital.”
After several seconds, Eleanor whispered, “Because Victor is not merely your security chief.”
Roman waited.
“He worked for your father before he worked for you.”
“I know that.”
“No,” she said. “You know the version we told you.”
Roman felt something dark opening beneath the conversation.
Eleanor sat slowly.
“Your father kept records. Insurance against politicians, businessmen, judges, even members of our own family.”
Roman said nothing.
“Victor managed them.”
“Where are they?”
“I don’t know.”
“Why does that matter to Claire?”
“Because when your father died, Victor expected influence. Instead, you took control and began dismantling the old arrangement.”
Roman remembered.
He had cut three smuggling routes.
Removed older captains.
Shifted money into legitimate shipping, construction, and property.
Victor had disagreed quietly.
Roman had mistaken silence for loyalty.
Eleanor continued.
“Last year, Victor came to me. He believed you were becoming weak.”
“Because I married Claire?”
“Because you were trying to change the organization.”
Roman’s jaw clenched.
“What did you tell him?”
“That he was wrong.”
“Did you?”
Eleanor looked at him.
“Yes.”
Roman held up the phone.
“Then why is someone in your office communicating with whoever watched my wife?”
Eleanor’s expression collapsed by a fraction.
Because she finally understood something.
“My assistant.”
“What?”
“Margaret.”
Roman knew Margaret Bell.
She had worked for Eleanor for fourteen years.
“She manages the household accounts,” Eleanor said. “Phones. Travel. Staff access.”
Matteo immediately stepped away to make a call.
Roman looked at his mother.
“Did Margaret know Claire?”
“She helped organize your wedding.”
Roman felt sick.
A nurse approached.
“Mr. Mercer?”
He turned.
“Your wife is in recovery.”
“And the babies?”
“One is with her. The smaller twin is stable in NICU.”
Roman closed his eyes.
Stable.
For now.
When he looked back, Matteo was returning.
His expression was grim.
“Margaret’s gone.”
“Since when?”
“Her apartment was cleared out sometime today.”
Roman stared at Eleanor.
Then Matteo added, “There’s more.”
“What?”
“We searched Victor’s office at Mercer House.”
Roman waited.
“We found a hidden compartment behind the safe.”
“What was inside?”
“Copies of Claire’s medical records from the Cambridge clinic.”
Claire had believed no one knew.
Someone had known everything.
Matteo’s voice dropped.
“And photographs.”
“Of what?”
“You. Claire. The townhouse. Her car. Hospital entrances.”
Roman’s hands curled.
“Anything else?”
Matteo looked at Eleanor before answering.
“A list of dates.”
Roman took the paper.
Most meant nothing.
Then he saw one.
Seven months earlier.
The night Claire disappeared.
Beside it were four words.
PHASE ONE — WIFE REMOVED.
Roman read the next line.
Five weeks later.
PHASE TWO — HEIR TERMINATED.
He looked up slowly.
“They weren’t trying to make Claire leave me.”
Matteo understood at the same moment.
May you like
Roman looked toward the NICU.
“They were trying to kill my children.”
