Chapter 7 - WHAT MY MOTHER KNEWMy mother had spent most of my life pretending not to see.
When I came home from the hunting cabin at thirteen, Caroline Mercer stood in my bathroom while I changed.
She saw the wounds.
I know she saw them.
She turned away and told the housekeeper to call a doctor.
But she never asked what happened.
For sixteen years, that silence had hurt almost as much as the scars.
Now Blake claimed she had chosen me.
I needed to know what that meant.
Agent Shaw traced the coordinates to an abandoned Mercer cannery near Georgetown.
“It's a trap,” Adrian said.
Of course Adrian had come to Atlanta.
He arrived two hours after my call wearing the same suit from the previous day, looking as though he hadn't slept.
“I know.”
“Then you're not going.”
I gave him a look.
He corrected himself.
“I mean—we should construct a plan that doesn't involve you walking into it alone.”
“Better.”
Emily almost smiled.
Shaw developed the operation.
The journals would be copied.
The originals would remain secured.
I would carry a decoy folder.
A transmitter would be sewn into my coat.
Federal agents would surround the cannery.
Adrian wanted to come inside.
Shaw refused.
“This isn't your operation.”
“It's my wife.”
“And your emotional involvement is exactly why you're staying outside.”
He hated it.
But unlike my brother, Adrian could hear no.
That distinction had become more important to me than I wanted to admit.
Before I left, he handed me a small earpiece.
“I'm on the channel.”
“You're not supposed to be.”
“Agent Shaw can arrest me after.”
She looked at him.
“Don't tempt me.”
The cannery stood against the marsh like a dead animal.
Rust covered the corrugated walls.
Broken windows faced the water.
I entered at 8:03 p.m.
“Blake?”
My voice echoed.
Nothing.
Then overhead lights snapped on.
My mother sat near the center of the floor.
Hands tied.
Beside her stood Derek Sloan.
My brother's driver.
And behind him—
Jonathan Cross.
Adrian's father.
Alive.
He looked directly at the hidden microphone beneath my collar as if he knew it existed.
“Remove the coat.”
My heartbeat jumped.
I didn't move.
Jonathan smiled.
“Your family taught me to recognize surveillance, Nora.”
He pointed toward a barrel.
“Coat.”
In my ear, Shaw whispered, “Do it.”
I removed it.
Then the earpiece.
Jonathan crushed it beneath his shoe.
The warehouse became frighteningly quiet.
“Where's Blake?” I asked.
“Coming.”
I looked at my mother.
“Are you hurt?”
She shook her head.
“Nora, I'm sorry.”
“Don't.”
“I should have told you.”
“Told me what?”
Jonathan smiled.
“Now this is becoming interesting.”
My mother looked at him with hatred.
Then at me.
“Your father didn't order Everett to punish you.”
I froze.
“Kane said—”
“Kane was told Richard ordered it.”
“What are you saying?”
“Blake gave the order.”
My stomach tightened.
“But the recording—Dad asked what to do with me.”
“Yes. He wanted you sent to boarding school in Switzerland. Away from the family. Away from what you heard.”
I stared.
“Blake changed the order.”
The cannery seemed to tilt.
“Why?”
“Because your father was already starting to distrust him.”
My mother began crying.
“Blake was twenty-one. He wanted control of the company. Your inheritance threatened him. Sebastian's investigation threatened him. Everyone threatened him.”
“And Dad?”
“He discovered what Blake had done to you afterward.”
I could barely speak.
“What did he do?”
“Nothing.”
That answer hurt in a different way.
“He protected Blake.”
“Yes.”
So my father had not ordered the scars.
He had simply decided they were acceptable collateral after the fact.
Not innocence.
Just another form of cowardice.
“Why didn't you tell me?”
My mother's face collapsed.
“Because Blake threatened Emily. Then you. Then me. And because I was weak.”
At least she didn't disguise it.
“I spent years telling myself keeping quiet protected you.”
She shook her head.
“It protected me from having to be brave.”
Footsteps sounded behind us.
Blake entered.
He carried a pistol.
“Touching.”
“Let her go.”
“The journals.”
I held up the folder.
“Mother first.”
He laughed.
“You're negotiating now?”
“I own forty-one percent of your company.”
His smile disappeared.
“Not yet.”
“In eleven days.”
“You won't reach thirty.”
The words chilled me.
Behind Blake, Jonathan Cross looked almost amused.
Then Blake made a mistake.
He turned his back on Jonathan.
Only for a second.
But Jonathan's expression changed.
I saw it.
He had no loyalty to Blake.
None.
These men were using each other.
“Why are you helping him?” I asked Jonathan.
Blake looked over.
“Don't.”
I ignored him.
“Blake destroys everyone eventually. Sebastian. Kane. Me. Do you think you're special?”
Jonathan watched me.
“I think I'm useful.”
“Until you're not.”
Blake raised his weapon.
“Enough.”
I looked at my brother.
“You murdered Sebastian.”
“Give me the documents.”
“You framed Adrian.”
“Documents.”
“You trafficked people.”
His jaw tightened.
“I didn't traffic anyone.”
That caught me.
Jonathan looked at him.
Blake continued.
“That was Father's business.”
“Richard's?” I asked.
“And his.”
He pointed the gun toward Jonathan.
Interesting.
“My father stopped the trafficking operation before he died.”
Jonathan's face hardened.
“He tried.”
Blake laughed.
“Because even Richard Mercer eventually developed a conscience.”
I stared.
“And you?”
“I wanted the network gone.”
“Then why hide it?”
“Because exposing it destroyed Mercer Coastal.”
Suddenly Blake's motivations became more complicated.
Still monstrous.
But not simple.
“You killed Sebastian because he was going public.”
“Yes.”
“To save the company.”
“To save all of us.”
“No. To save yourself.”
His eyes flashed.
“Same difference.”
There it was.
Always.
Family meant Blake.
Company meant Blake.
Survival meant Blake.
“Then why frame Adrian?”
“Because Cross Maritime was still being used by Jonathan.”
Adrian's father looked at him.
Blake continued.
“I needed federal agents looking at Cross facilities without looking at Mercer.”
I almost couldn't believe it.
“You put innocent people in a container.”
“They were already being moved by Jonathan's network. I redirected one shipment.”
My stomach turned.
“You used human beings as evidence.”
“I got them rescued.”
“You endangered them to protect your company.”
He seemed genuinely unable to understand the difference.
“Give me the folder.”
“No.”
Blake raised the gun.
My mother screamed.
Then Jonathan moved.
The gunshot was deafening.
I dropped.
For half a second, I thought I had been shot.
Then Blake collapsed.
Blood spread across his shoulder.
Jonathan held a gun.
Derek Sloan ran toward the side exit.
Outside, federal agents shouted.
The doors exploded inward.
Everything happened at once.
Shaw's team entered.
Derek surrendered.
Jonathan fired toward the ceiling and ran toward the rear loading bay.
Adrian appeared through another door.
“Adrian!” I screamed.
His father froze.
Twenty-two years separated them.
For one extraordinary second, they simply stared at each other.
Jonathan's gun slowly lowered.
“Son.”
Adrian looked at him with absolutely no recognition beyond blood.
“My father died when I was ten.”
Jonathan flinched.
“You don't understand.”
“No.”
Adrian's voice shook.
“I understand perfectly.”
Jonathan raised the weapon again.
Not toward Adrian.
Toward himself.
Adrian moved.
The gun fired.
Agents tackled Jonathan.
The bullet struck metal.
Then handcuffs closed around his wrists.
Across the room, Blake groaned.
Alive.
My mother was crying.
Shaw shouted orders.
And Adrian crossed the floor toward me.
He stopped one step away.
He didn't touch me.
Not until he asked.
“Can I?”
That question nearly broke me.
I nodded.
May you like
He pulled me against him.
For the first time since our wedding, I held him back.
