Chapter 2 - The Man Who Came to VisitBy sunset, the hospital floor belonged to me.
I stationed men at every entrance, shut down the private elevator, replaced hospital security outside Nell's room, and personally checked the credentials of every doctor who entered.
Nell hated it.
“I'm in a hospital, Roman. Not one of your compounds.”
“Someone tried to take our daughter yesterday.”
“So now nobody gets within twenty feet of me without a background check?”
“Yes.”
She stared at me.
“That wasn't a question.”
“I know.”
Her eyes narrowed.
For one strange second, I almost smiled.
That expression hadn't changed either.
The same expression she used to give me when I put armed guards outside restaurants or ordered a driver to follow her during hurricane season.
Then her face became serious.
“You don't get to control my life again.”
The words stopped me.
“I won't.”
“You're doing it right now.”
“I'm keeping you alive.”
“And this is exactly the problem.”
She struggled to sit higher against the pillows and winced as her ribs protested.
I moved instinctively.
“Don't.”
I froze.
Nell adjusted herself.
“I spent fifteen months rebuilding a life that didn't include asking you for permission.”
“I never wanted you asking permission.”
“No. You just made decisions for both of us.”
She held my gaze.
“Like our divorce.”
There was no answer to that.
I had convinced myself that losing me was better than being buried because of me.
I had never asked whether she agreed.
A knock interrupted us.
Gus entered.
“We've identified the vehicle.”
“Who signed it out?”
His jaw tightened.
“That's the problem. Nobody did.”
“What does that mean?”
“It was removed manually from the executive garage. Whoever took it bypassed the digital log.”
“Who can do that?”
“Six people.”
“Names.”
Before Gus could answer, another voice came from the hallway.
“Roman?”
My entire body went still.
Nell noticed.
An older man appeared in the doorway wearing a dark navy suit and carrying an expensive black cane he didn't need but enjoyed using.
Silas Mercer.
My father's older brother.
Vice chairman of Mercer Holdings.
My uncle.
The man who had taught me to drive at fourteen and negotiate at eighteen.
He looked toward Nell.
His expression softened flawlessly.
“My God.”
“Uncle Silas.”
He ignored the warning in my tone.
“Nell, I'm so sorry.”
She looked confused.
Silas approached the bed.
“I heard about the accident less than an hour ago. Roman's office told me you were here.”
His eyes moved toward June's bassinet.
Then stopped.
For perhaps half a second.
No longer.
But I saw it.
Shock.
Calculation.
Then warmth.
“And this must be…”
“My daughter,” I said.
Silas looked at me.
There it was again.
Something behind his eyes.
“Your daughter?”
“June.”
He smiled.
“A Mercer heir.”
Nell stiffened.
“She is June Hart.”
“Of course.”
Silas's smile remained.
“A beautiful name.”
I stepped between him and the bassinet without making the movement obvious.
Silas noticed anyway.
He noticed everything.
“When did you learn?” he asked me.
“Last night.”
“And Eleanor never told you?”
“She tried.”
Silence.
I watched him.
One second.
Two.
Three.
Then Silas sighed.
“That's unfortunate.”
Not shocking.
Not confusing.
Unfortunate.
“What do you mean?” I asked.
“That there was apparently some failure of communication.”
“Someone forged my signature.”
This time, his reaction was perfect.
“What?”
“They sent Nell documents claiming I knew about June.”
Silas turned toward her.
“That's monstrous.”
“Yes.”
“Do the police know?”
“They will.”
His eyes flickered back to mine.
“We should discuss the implications.”
“What implications?”
His voice lowered.
“Privately.”
Nell heard him anyway.
“Anything involving my daughter gets discussed in front of me.”
Silas looked mildly surprised.
Then he smiled.
“Of course.”
He pulled a chair closer.
“There is a provision in the Mercer family trust.”
I felt a chill.
Gus went very still.
“What provision?”
“Your grandfather believed strongly in blood succession.”
I already knew that part.
What I didn't know was why Silas suddenly looked uncomfortable saying it.
“When your father died,” he continued, “the controlling trust transferred primarily to you. But twenty-two percent remained reserved for the first biological child of the next Mercer generation.”
Nell stared at him.
“What does that mean?”
“It means,” Gus said slowly, “June owns twenty-two percent of Mercer Holdings.”
Silas corrected him.
“Technically, the shares are held in trust until her twenty-fifth birthday.”
“Controlled by whom?”
Nobody answered immediately.
I looked at Silas.
“Controlled by whom?”
“The surviving parent or court-appointed guardian.”
Nell's face changed.
I understood instantly.
If someone could remove me from June's life…
And remove Nell…
“Twenty-two percent,” Nell whispered.
Silas nodded.
“At today's valuation, somewhere north of eight hundred million dollars.”
Nell looked toward our six-month-old daughter.
June was chewing the corner of her blanket.
Oblivious.
Worth nearly a billion dollars on paper.
Suddenly, the collision looked different.
The fake letters looked different.
Everything looked different.
“They didn't want money from Roman,” Nell said.
Gus met my eyes.
“No.”
“They wanted June.”
Silas rose slowly.
“I suggest you contact the trust attorneys immediately.”
“I will.”
“I can handle it for you.”
“No.”
He paused.
“I've managed Mercer legal affairs for thirty years.”
“And I'm managing this.”
Something cold passed between us.
Silas smiled again.
“Of course.”
He leaned down toward Nell, stopping at a respectful distance.
“I'm glad you're alive.”
Then he looked at June.
“And I'm delighted to know the Mercer line continues.”
My instincts screamed.
He left ten minutes later.
The moment the elevator doors closed, I turned toward Gus.
“You said six people could manually remove that SUV.”
“Yes.”
“Was Silas one?”
Gus didn't answer.
He didn't need to.
Nell closed her eyes.
I walked toward the window.
Below us, Miami glittered beneath the rain.
For fifteen months, I had believed Frank Calder was the greatest danger to Nell.
Now I wasn't sure anymore.
Gus's phone rang.
He answered.
Listened.
Then his face changed.
“What?”
I turned.
He ended the call.
“We found the original courier record for Nell's pregnancy letter.”
“Where was it delivered?”
“Your office.”
“Who signed for it?”
Gus hesitated.
My patience vanished.
“Who?”
May you like
He looked toward the door Silas had just walked through.
“Silas Mercer.”
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