Chapter 8 - THE VOICE FROM THE GRAVE
Roman didn't answer immediately.
The phone continued vibrating in his hand.
I watched the name on the screen and felt a chill crawl up my spine.
"Can someone fake that number?" I asked.
"Yes."
"Then don't answer."
Roman looked at me.
"If this is a trap, I need to know who's setting it."
He accepted the call and switched on the speaker.
For several seconds, there was only static.
Then a man's voice emerged.
"Roman."
Roman's face drained of color.
"Who is this?"
A quiet laugh.
"You know who this is."
"Vincent Mercer is dead."
"People die every day, son. Some of them are more useful dead than alive."
Roman gripped the phone so tightly his knuckles whitened.
"What did you do to Isabella?"
A pause.
Then the voice answered.
"Your sister was reckless. She believed she could destroy everything our family had built and walk away untouched."
"You killed her."
"I gave orders to protect the family. Other people made decisions."
"Was her baby supposed to die, too?"
Another pause.
"The boy was never supposed to become a problem."
I felt sick.
Roman closed his eyes briefly.
"You ordered Grant to kill me."
"I ordered Grant to protect you from people who wanted to take everything from you."
"You ordered him to murder me."
"I ordered him to make certain you never discovered the truth."
Roman's voice became dangerously quiet.
"Where are you?"
The man laughed again.
"You've spent twenty years searching for the wrong enemy. If you want to know who truly destroyed Isabella, look at the woman who helped your mother establish the foundation."
The call ended.
Roman stood motionless.
I waited.
Finally, he whispered, "My mother."
"No," I said immediately. "He could be lying."
"He knew things only someone inside the family would know."
"That doesn't make him honest."
Roman looked at the brass key.
"Margaret's note said the person who ordered Isabella's death wasn't the person who signed the papers."
"Maybe your father is trying to make you doubt your mother."
"Or maybe my mother knew something and concealed it."
I took his hand before I realized what I was doing.
"Then we find the truth. But you don't get to condemn another dead person because a man who faked his own death tells you to."
Roman looked down at our hands.
For a moment, the room felt strangely quiet.
Then he nodded.
"You're right."
The key opened a locked cabinet in the foundation's old administrative building. Roman brought me with him, along with Dr. Bennett and a lawyer who specialized in medical fraud.
Inside, we found paper records, backup drives, and a collection of letters written by Roman's mother, Eleanor Mercer.
Most concerned charitable donations and hospital transfers.
One letter was different.
It was addressed to Daniel Vaughn.
Daniel,
I have reason to believe Vincent intends to use Isabella's medical condition to force her into a decision she does not want to make. If anything happens to her, the child must be protected from everyone connected to this family.
I trust you because you have never asked for anything in return.
The next page had been torn away.
I read the letter twice.
"My father knew Eleanor?"
Roman nodded slowly.
"My mother trusted him more than she trusted her husband."
"Then why didn't she take Isabella and the baby somewhere safe?"
"Maybe she tried."
We found another document beneath the letters.
It was a hospital transfer authorization signed by Eleanor Mercer.
The destination hospital was in Wisconsin. The transfer was approved three days before Isabella's death, but canceled the following morning.
The cancellation carried the signature of the foundation's administrator.
Margaret Shaw.
I stared at it.
"She was involved."
"Or someone forged her signature," Roman replied.
We examined the document. A second signature appeared at the bottom, authorizing the cancellation.
Grant Holloway.
Roman leaned back.
"Grant didn't just know what happened. He helped make it happen."
A noise sounded in the hallway.
The lawyer stepped outside and immediately returned.
"Someone has entered the building."
Roman's security team moved toward the doors.
Then a gunshot cracked through the corridor.
I dropped to the floor.
Roman pulled me behind a heavy desk, covering me with his body as another shot struck the wall above us.
"Stay down," he ordered.
"I'm not leaving without the files."
"Tessa—"
"I'm not leaving!"
He looked at me, then at the cabinet.
We grabbed the backup drive and the letters. His security team returned fire from the corridor, forcing the intruder toward the stairwell.
When the shooting stopped, Adrian appeared at the door.
"The building is secure. One suspect escaped."
Roman helped me stand.
I was shaking so hard I could barely hold the folder.
He examined my face.
"Are you hurt?"
"No."
He touched my cheek gently, then immediately withdrew his hand.
"Sorry."
I looked at him.
"Thank you for asking first."
Something changed in his expression.
"I meant what I said that night at the restaurant. I should never have touched you without your permission."
"I know."
"I don't want you to think this arrangement gives me any claim over you."
"It doesn't."
"Good."
For the first time, I believed him.
Then Adrian returned with a phone recovered from the stairwell.
"We found a message on the suspect's device."
Roman took it.
The message contained a photograph of the hospital where Eli was recovering.
Beneath it was a short instruction.
IF THE BOY SURVIVES, THE OLD MAN'S PLAN DIES WITH HIM.
Roman read it silently.
I felt a cold certainty settle over me.
"Your father isn't trying to protect the family," I said.
Roman looked toward the window.
"No."
He slipped the phone into his pocket.
"He's trying to protect something he believes belongs to him."
That night, we moved Eli to a secure recovery suite. He was stable, and the specialist team had begun developing a treatment plan based on the records they'd recovered.
For the first time, I allowed myself to imagine a future in which I wasn't calculating every grocery purchase against the cost of his medication.
Roman stood beside the window while I tucked a blanket around Eli.
When I joined him, he handed me a folded letter.
It was written in my father's handwriting.
I recognized the words immediately.
Tessa,
If Roman has brought you this letter, then the secret has finally escaped the people who tried to bury it.
There is one more thing you must know.
The child I protected was not the only person Eleanor Mercer tried to save.
The second page was missing.
On the bottom of the remaining sheet, my father had written a name.
Claire Mercer.
Roman stared at it.
"My mother had another child?"
I shook my head.
"I don't know."
He took the letter from me.
May you like
Then his face changed as he read the final line.
Claire was never born into the Mercer family. She was brought into it.
