Chapter 8 - Seventy-Two Hours
The plan became clear.
Not all at once.
Piece by piece.
Victoria had wanted access to the Rowan trust.
Grant needed the Mercer guarantees protected.
Rebecca had told them incapacity could shift temporary authority.
Dr. Lyle had the medical credentials.
And I had been the obstacle.
Three months earlier, they had apparently tried once.
It failed because my condition improved before any formal certification could be completed.
This time, after surgery, I was vulnerable again.
Victoria’s threat on the bathroom floor suddenly made perfect sense.
You can discover how quickly people stop believing a woman once her medical records describe her as unstable.
She had not been improvising.
She had been explaining the plan.
Naomi took Rebecca’s cooperation agreement to prosecutors.
Meanwhile, the Mercer board expanded the forensic audit.
Thirty-seven million became fifty-two.
Then sixty-one.
Every day uncovered another layer.
Fake consulting contracts.
Inflated property acquisitions.
Payments routed through intermediaries.
Not all of it was necessarily illegal.
Enough of it was suspicious.
Grant’s public statements became more aggressive.
He called the audit “a family dispute weaponized through corporate governance.”
He denied wrongdoing.
Victoria disappeared from public view.
That frightened me more than her anger.
She was planning something.
On Friday morning, Elias called.
“We have a problem.”
“What?”
“Mercer filed for emergency relief.”
“Against the audit?”
“Against you.”
I went still.
“They’re asking a judge to temporarily suspend your exercise of trust-related voting rights.”
“On what grounds?”
“Impairment.”
I laughed once.
Of course.
“They’re using my medical records.”
“Yes.”
“Dr. Lyle?”
“Yes.”
He had signed an affidavit stating that in his professional opinion I had displayed recent episodes of paranoia, emotional instability, medication misuse, and impaired judgment.
Every word was designed to make revenge look like illness.
Naomi was furious.
Elias was not.
That worried me.
“How bad?”
“The judge scheduled a hearing Monday.”
“And if we lose?”
“The board vote Tuesday could proceed without your trust’s full participation.”
“What board vote?”
Silence.
“Elias?”
“Grant called a special shareholder meeting.”
“For what?”
“To approve a merger.”
“With whom?”
“Northstar Medical.”
I knew the name.
A giant private healthcare consortium.
If Northstar absorbed Mercer Healthcare quickly enough, the corporate structure holding the questionable transactions could disappear into a maze of new entities.
“Can they do that?”
“If they get the votes.”
“Would Northstar knowingly buy a company under investigation?”
“They claim this is simply an internal audit.”
“So Grant is racing us.”
“Yes.”
“How long?”
“Seventy-two hours.”
The same period Victoria had asked Rebecca about.
I almost admired the symmetry.
That afternoon, Grant came to see me at the Rowan apartment.
Security asked whether I wanted him removed.
I let him in.
He stood in my living room and looked around.
“So this is where you’re hiding.”
“I’m recovering.”
“Same thing.”
I remained standing.
“What do you want?”
“Come to the hearing Monday and withdraw your opposition.”
“No.”
“Northstar saves the company.”
“It saves you.”
“It saves everyone.”
“Then give Naomi your records.”
“You’re obsessed with punishment.”
“You left me bleeding.”
He looked away.
“That was wrong.”
“Say it again.”
His eyes returned to mine.
“I was wrong.”
It was the first real apology he had given me.
For one dangerous moment, the man I once loved appeared.
Tired.
Afraid.
Human.
Then he ruined it.
“If you keep going, Claire, people are going to learn things about your father you won’t survive.”
I stared at him.
“What things?”
“You think Thomas Rowan was a saint?”
“No.”
“He built the trap that nearly destroyed my father.”
“Your father mismanaged the company.”
“That’s the version Elias gave you.”
“What’s yours?”
Grant stepped closer.
“Your father didn’t save Mercer.”
His voice became quiet.
“He took it.”
He placed a folder on the table.
Inside were old letters.
Richard Mercer accusing Thomas Rowan of coercion.
Predatory financing.
Threatening foreclosure unless he surrendered control rights.
I read them twice.
“You believe this?”
“I watched what it did to my father.”
“Why marry me?”
His silence answered.
My heart stopped.
“Grant.”
He looked at me.
“Did you marry me because of my father?”
His face twisted.
“At first?”
One word.
That was all it took.
May you like
At first.
My marriage had just cracked open from the beginning.
