Chapter 4 - THE FIRST HUSBAND'S GRAVEAt 6:12 the following morning, Julian received an envelope containing a photograph of a gravestone.
ALEXANDER JAMES REED
1981–2022
Beloved Son. Cherished Brother. Gone Too Soon.
Beneath the photograph was a handwritten note.
He found out about the pregnancy three days before he died.
Julian read the words twice.
The envelope had been delivered to his private office by courier.
There was no return address.
No sender's name.
But inside was another photograph.
It showed Sloane standing beside Alexander Reed outside a wedding chapel.
Her hair was darker.
Her face looked younger.
And beneath her fitted white dress was a clearly visible pregnant belly.
Julian felt physically sick.
The photograph had been taken four years earlier.
Yet Sloane had told him that he was the first man she had ever wanted to marry.
He called Marcus.
“Alexander Reed. I want to speak to his family.”
“Already working on it,” Marcus replied. “There's something you need to know.”
“What?”
“His family believes he was murdered.”
Julian stared at the second photograph.
“Why?”
“His younger sister claimed the medical evidence didn't support the official explanation. She spent two years trying to reopen the investigation.”
“What happened?”
“She was discredited. Someone leaked private medical records suggesting she had a history of psychiatric treatment.”
Julian's hand tightened around the phone.
“And did she?”
“That's not relevant to whether her concerns were legitimate. But the leak destroyed her credibility.”
“Where is she now?”
“Pennsylvania. She owns a small bookstore outside Philadelphia.”
“Arrange a meeting.”
“There is another problem.”
Julian closed his eyes.
“What now?”
“The charity foundation Sloane announced last night? Its draft registration includes documents that appear to carry your electronic signature.”
“I didn't sign anything.”
“I know. Our counsel is reviewing them.”
Julian looked through the windows.
The city was waking beneath him.
Millions of people beginning an ordinary day.
And he was trapped in a world where his fiancée might be a professional fraudster, his brother might be plotting against him, and his own signature was being used without permission.
“How many people have access to my digital signature?”
“Four authorized administrators. We're auditing their activity.”
Julian thought of his longtime executive assistant.
Vanessa Price.
Forty-nine years old.
Efficient.
Dependable.
She had worked for him for nearly a decade.
She handled his schedules, documents, and sensitive correspondence.
He trusted her with everything.
“Check Vanessa's access.”
Marcus hesitated.
“Julian, she's been loyal for years.”
“So has my brother, apparently.”
A long silence followed.
“Understood.”
That afternoon, Julian flew to Pennsylvania in a private jet.
Marcus accompanied him.
Two security officers remained outside his destination.
The bookstore sat on a quiet street between a florist and an antique shop.
A bell rang when Julian entered.
A woman behind the counter looked up from a stack of books.
She was in her early forties, with dark hair pulled into a loose braid.
“Can I help you?”
Julian approached slowly.
“Are you Rebecca Reed?”
Her smile vanished.
“Who wants to know?”
“Julian Mercer.”
She stared at him.
Then the color drained from her face.
“No.”
Julian stopped.
“Rebecca—”
“Get out.”
“I need to talk to you about Sloane Whitaker.”
Rebecca gripped the counter.
“I said get out.”
“She's my fiancée.”
Rebecca let out a sound that was half laugh, half sob.
“Oh, my God.”
She stumbled backward.
Julian remained still.
“I think she may be trying to do to me what she did to Alexander.”
Rebecca's expression changed.
Fear gave way to something darker.
Hatred.
“You're marrying her?”
“The wedding is in seventeen days.”
Rebecca reached beneath the counter.
For one startled moment, Marcus moved toward Julian.
But Rebecca pulled out an old photograph album.
She dropped it onto the counter.
“Then you'd better look at this.”
The first photograph showed Alexander Reed smiling beside a brunette woman in a blue dress.
Sloane.
The second showed a baby shower.
Blue balloons.
A white cake.
A sign reading:
WELCOME, BABY REED!
The third showed Alexander standing beside a newly decorated nursery.
He looked proud.
Hopeful.
Devoted.
Exactly as Julian had felt when assembling his daughter's crib.
Rebecca watched his face.
“She told my brother they were having a son.”
Julian swallowed.
“And there was no baby?”
“No.”
“How did he find out?”
Rebecca opened the album to a newspaper clipping.
The headline described Alexander's sudden death.
“He hired a private investigator after noticing inconsistencies in her medical records. Three days before he died, he called me.”
Her voice cracked.
“He said, ‘Becca, I think my wife is lying about the baby.’”
Julian couldn't speak.
“He was terrified of what he'd discovered. He said she'd been meeting secretly with a lawyer and someone from his company.”
“What happened next?”
“He asked me to come to his vacation house. I was driving there when the police called.”
Rebecca wiped her face.
“They said he'd been found unconscious and couldn't be revived.”
Julian looked at the photograph of the nursery.
“Did they perform an autopsy?”
“A limited one. His wife objected to further examination. She said he had a family history of heart problems.”
“Did he?”
“No.”
“Why didn't the police investigate further?”
“They did a preliminary investigation. But the evidence didn't establish foul play. The death was eventually classified as natural.”
Rebecca walked toward a locked cabinet.
She removed a small wooden box.
“My brother kept backups of everything. His passwords, documents, recordings.”
She opened it.
Inside lay a silver wristwatch, several letters, and a flash drive.
“I've been waiting four years for someone powerful enough to listen.”
Julian reached toward the drive.
Rebecca pulled it away.
“First, answer one question.”
“Anything.”
“Are you going to protect yourself and let her destroy someone else?”
Julian looked at her.
“No.”
“Men with money have made promises to me before.”
“Then don't trust my promises.”
He placed his phone on the counter.
“Trust what I do next.”
He called his attorney.
“Elaine, I want our outside forensic team reviewing Alexander Reed's case. Coordinate with his family and their counsel. Everything must be lawful, documented, and independently verified.”
Rebecca stared at him.
Julian continued.
“And prepare to notify the appropriate authorities about evidence suggesting an organized fraud scheme.”
He ended the call.
Rebecca slowly placed the flash drive in his hand.
“Please don't let her hurt anyone else.”
Julian closed his fingers around it.
“I'll try to make sure she can't.”
On the flight back to New York, Marcus opened the encrypted files.
The first folder contained financial records.
The second contained photographs.
The third contained audio recordings.
One recording was dated three days before Alexander's death.
His voice came through the speakers.
“Rebecca, if anything happens to me, don't believe Sloane. She's been lying about everything. The baby isn't real. I've found transfers from my company to a shell corporation. And I think someone inside the company is helping her.”
The sound of a door opening interrupted him.
Alexander stopped speaking.
A woman's voice entered.
“Who are you talking to?”
Sloane.
Alexander answered nervously.
“No one.”
“Give me the phone.”
The recording crackled.
Then Alexander said something that made Julian's skin turn cold.
“You're not getting another cent.”
A sharp impact sounded.
Alexander cried out.
The recording stopped.
Marcus looked at Julian.
“There's more.”
He opened a spreadsheet.
It listed transfers from companies associated with Alexander Reed.
Several payments had gone to an offshore entity.
BRIARSTONE ADVISORY HOLDINGS
Julian's eyes narrowed.
He recognized the name.
Three months earlier, Ethan had asked him to invest in Briarstone.
Julian had refused.
He had thought it was another questionable business venture.
Now he saw the account receiving money from a dead man's company.
“Trace the ownership,” Julian said.
Marcus was already typing.
Twenty minutes later, his face changed.
“Julian.”
“What?”
“Briarstone's beneficial ownership is obscured behind multiple entities, but one filing names an authorized representative.”
“Who?”
Marcus turned the laptop.
VANESSA PRICE.
Julian stared.
His executive assistant.
The woman who had organized his engagement party.
The woman who scheduled his meetings.
The woman who controlled his confidential calendar.
The person who knew every time he left the penthouse.
Every time he visited a doctor.
Every time he traveled alone.
Julian remembered Sloane's strange confidence the previous night.
He had wondered who was spying on him.
Now he had an answer.
Or part of one.
His phone rang.
Vanessa.
Julian stared at the screen.
Then answered.
“Hello?”
“Mr. Mercer,” she said pleasantly. “I hope your trip was productive.”
He felt the blood drain from his face.
He hadn't told her about the trip.
“Very,” he replied.
“Wonderful. Sloane asked me to remind you about your medical appointment tomorrow.”
Julian frowned.
“What medical appointment?”
Vanessa hesitated.
“The executive wellness assessment. Dr. Whitcomb's office.”
“I don't remember scheduling that.”
“Sloane arranged it. Just routine testing before the wedding.”
Julian looked at Marcus.
Marcus shook his head sharply.
“Tell Sloane I appreciate her concern,” Julian said. “I'll confirm later.”
He hung up.
Marcus immediately accessed Julian's schedule.
The appointment was listed for 8:30 a.m.
Its description read:
PREMARITAL CARDIAC ASSESSMENT AND NEUROLOGICAL BASELINE
Julian studied the words.
“Why neurological?”
Marcus's expression darkened.
“Because neurological findings can become relevant to claims about decision-making capacity.”
Julian remembered the video.
Once Julian is sedated, Ethan signs the emergency corporate documents.
He slowly exhaled.
The wedding was still seventeen days away.
But they were already preparing the medical foundation for his disappearance.
At that exact moment, Marcus received an emergency message.
It came from the secure residence where Tess and Oliver were staying.
UNAUTHORIZED INDIVIDUAL APPROACHING PROPERTY. POSSIBLE WEAPON.
Julian stood.
Then a second message appeared.
SUBJECT IDENTIFIED.
Marcus read the name.
His face went pale.
“Julian, you're not going to believe this.”
“Who is it?”
Marcus turned the screen toward him.
The security camera showed a thin, exhausted woman standing outside the gates.
Her hair had been cut unevenly.
There were bruises around her wrists.
She looked directly into the camera.
And held up a piece of cardboard.
MY NAME IS HANNAH CALLAHAN.
May you like
Below that, written in thick black letters, was another message.
THE REAL BABY IS ALREADY BORN.
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