Chapter 4 - Frank Calder Tells the TruthBy dawn, Silas Mercer had disappeared.
His house was empty.
His phone had been switched off.
His private jet remained in Miami, which meant either he hadn't run far or he wanted me to believe he hadn't.
Gus wanted to move Nell immediately.
Nell refused.
“My surgeon says tomorrow.”
“Your surgeon doesn't know someone just tried to steal your baby.”
“My surgeon also knows whether my internal stitches are going to open.”
That ended the argument.
Mostly.
Instead, I turned the seventh floor into something resembling a fortress.
Then I went hunting for Frank Calder.
I found him before sunset.
Not because Frank was careless.
Because men like us build patterns without realizing it.
A particular cigar club.
A particular marina.
A particular woman.
A particular place to hide when the city suddenly becomes dangerous.
At 7:40 p.m., I walked into the back room of a waterfront restaurant in Coconut Grove.
Frank Calder sat alone at a table.
He was fifty-two, broad-shouldered, silver at the temples, and looked more annoyed than frightened when I entered.
“Roman.”
“Frank.”
He glanced toward Gus.
“I assume this isn't dinner.”
I put the photograph on the table.
The old photograph.
Nell in the library window.
Frank's expression changed.
“You kept that?”
“You sent it.”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
He leaned back.
“To scare you.”
“You succeeded.”
“I heard.”
“Did you know she was pregnant?”
His brows pulled together.
“No.”
“Think carefully.”
“I am.”
I put the forged letter beside the photograph.
Frank read it.
His eyes sharpened.
“What is this?”
“You tell me.”
“I've never seen it.”
“Someone working for you hit Nell's car two nights ago.”
“Who?”
“Victor Salazar.”
Frank went silent.
“That impossible?”
“No.”
His answer surprised me.
“He stopped working for me nine months ago.”
“Who does he work for?”
“I don't know.”
I leaned over the table.
“You have ten seconds to become useful.”
Frank laughed softly.
“You haven't changed.”
“My six-month-old daughter was nearly kidnapped.”
That erased his smile.
“Daughter?”
“Yes.”
“Eleanor had your child?”
“Yes.”
He swore.
Then he looked at the forged letter again.
“Silas.”
I became very still.
“What did you say?”
“Sit down.”
“I prefer standing.”
“Fine.”
He poured himself a drink.
“Two years ago, Silas Mercer approached me.”
Gus shifted beside me.
Frank continued.
“He wanted pressure applied to you.”
“What kind of pressure?”
“He wanted you separated from your wife.”
“Why?”
“He didn't tell me.”
“And you agreed?”
“He gave me access to a shipping contract I wanted.”
I felt murder rise quietly behind my ribs.
Frank noticed.
“Don't pretend business has ever been clean between us.”
“You threatened Nell.”
“Yes.”
“You put a target over my wife's head.”
“I sent you photographs. I never intended to touch her.”
“You expected me to understand that?”
“I expected you to do exactly what you did.”
The room went silent.
I stared at him.
Frank raised his glass.
“Leave her.”
The truth entered slowly.
“You knew.”
“Silas knew you.”
Frank's voice became quieter.
“He said there was one thing Roman Mercer would sacrifice his marriage for.”
“Nell's life.”
“Yes.”
I wanted to put my fist through the table.
Instead, I asked the question that mattered.
“Why did Silas want us divorced?”
“I learned that later.”
Frank reached inside his jacket.
Gus's hand moved toward his weapon.
Frank rolled his eyes and produced a flash drive.
“Silas has been trying to sell a controlling interest in Mercer Holdings for years.”
I frowned.
“He doesn't own enough shares.”
“Exactly.”
“The trust.”
“Exactly.”
Frank slid the drive toward me.
“If you remained childless, Silas believed he could eventually pressure you into restructuring the family trust. If you died without an heir, part of the reserved block moved back into the senior family branch.”
“His branch.”
“Yes.”
“And if I had a child?”
“Twenty-two percent became untouchable.”
I looked at the drive.
“What's on this?”
“Payments.”
“To whom?”
“Victor Salazar. A Mercer attorney named Malcolm Vane. Two employees in your executive mailroom.”
My blood went cold.
Malcolm Vane had handled my divorce.
Frank continued.
“And several payments to one of my former companies.”
“For the photographs.”
“Yes.”
“Why are you giving me this?”
“Because Silas tried to have me killed three months ago.”
For once, Frank Calder looked genuinely angry.
“He thought I'd kept too many records.”
“Did you?”
He smiled without humor.
“Obviously.”
I picked up the flash drive.
“Why steal June?”
Frank looked at me.
“If Silas only wanted the trust shares, killing the child would solve his problem.”
Gus's jaw tightened.
Frank leaned forward.
“But he specifically ordered her taken alive.”
“Yes.”
“That means she's worth more alive.”
“How?”
“I don't know.”
I hated those words.
Then Frank said something worse.
“But I know someone who might.”
He wrote an address on a napkin.
“Malcolm Vane hasn't been home in six days. His daughter thinks he's on vacation.”
“He isn't?”
“No.”
“Where is he?”
Frank tapped the address.
“A house in Coral Gables.”
I turned to leave.
“Roman.”
I stopped.
Frank looked toward the photograph of Nell.
“For what it's worth, I didn't know the threat would cost you fifteen months with your child.”
I stared at him.
“It cost Nell more.”
Then I left.
We reached the Coral Gables address forty minutes later.
The house looked abandoned.
No lights.
No cars.
Gus entered first.
We found Malcolm Vane in the kitchen.
Alive.
Terrified.
And tied to a chair.
The moment he saw me, he started crying.
“Roman.”
I cut him free.
“Who did this?”
“Silas.”
“Why?”
“Because I tried to tell you.”
“Tell me what?”
His hands were shaking violently.
“I forged the letters.”
I went still.
“Say that again.”
“I forged your signature. Gus's too. Silas made me.”
I grabbed the front of his shirt.
“You made my pregnant wife believe I rejected my daughter.”
“He had my son.”
I froze.
Malcolm was sobbing.
“He said he'd kill Daniel if I refused.”
I released him.
“Why does he want June alive?”
Malcolm stared at me.
Then whispered the answer.
“Because June doesn't just own twenty-two percent of Mercer Holdings.”
He swallowed.
“She controls the only trust Silas can never touch.”
“What trust?”
Malcolm looked terrified to say it.
“The Mercer Foundation trust.”
I had heard the name.
I had never cared about it.
Malcolm continued.
“Your grandfather put nearly two billion dollars into it.”
Gus cursed.
“Who controls it?”
Malcolm looked at me.
“June.”
“When she's twenty-five?”
“No.”
He shook his head.
“Her legal guardian controls the voting rights immediately.”
I understood.
Silas didn't need June dead.
He needed her without parents.
Then Malcolm delivered the final blow.
“He already filed guardianship paperwork three weeks ago.”
My entire body went cold.
“How can he file for guardianship of a child nobody knew existed?”
Malcolm met my eyes.
“Because, Roman…”
May you like
He was almost whispering now.
“Silas knew about June before she was born.”
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