Chapter 2 - Eleven DaysThe ambulance arrived at 11:06 p.m.
The apartment was forty-nine degrees.
There was blood on her pajama sleeve.
And my younger brother had both hands around my father’s throat.
That was how my family celebrated New Year’s Eve.
My name is Daniel Mercer, and until that night, I believed the worst thing that could happen to a man was discovering that the people he trusted had lied to him.
I was wrong.
The worst thing was discovering exactly what those lies had cost the woman you loved.
At 10:47 p.m. on December 31, I unlocked the door of our apartment in Brooklyn expecting laughter.
I had been in Stuttgart for three weeks overseeing the installation of industrial equipment for my company. The project finished early, so I paid an absurd amount for a last-minute flight home.
No one knew.
Not my wife, Claire.
Not my mother.
Not my younger brother, Ryan.
I imagined walking in with champagne, kissing Claire, and finally holding our son, Noah, for more than the few hours I’d had before leaving for Germany.
Instead, the first thing I noticed was the silence.
Then the cold.
My breath almost fogged in the entryway.
“Claire?”
Nothing.
I dropped my suitcase.
A weak cry came from the kitchen.
Not a normal newborn cry.
A thin, exhausted sound.
I ran.
Claire was sitting beside the refrigerator in stained pajamas, barefoot, her dark hair tangled around her face. Noah was wrapped inside two towels and tucked beneath her robe.
Her lips were pale.
A bruise darkened one side of her wrist.
For half a second, she only stared at me.
Then her face collapsed.
“Daniel?”
I dropped beside her.
“Oh my God.”
She clutched my coat.
“You’re home.”
“What happened? Why is it freezing?”
Her eyes flicked toward the hallway.
That was when I heard shouting.
I stood.
My father, Robert, stumbled backward from the dining room.
Ryan followed him.
My brother’s face was red with rage.
“You don’t get to come into this house and accuse me of anything!”
My father pointed toward Claire.
“She had surgery eleven days ago!”
Ryan shoved him.
My father crashed into the wall.
Something inside me changed.
I crossed the room before Ryan saw me.
I grabbed the front of his sweater and slammed him backward against the refrigerator.
“What did you do?”
His face drained.
“Danny?”
Behind me, Claire screamed my name.
Not because I was hurting Ryan.
Because my mother had appeared in the hallway.
Linda Mercer was wearing a sequined black dress.
My wife was bleeding in dirty pajamas.
My mother looked ready for a party.
“Daniel,” she said sharply. “You weren’t supposed to be back.”
I stared at her.
Those seven words told me more than any explanation could have.
“You knew.”
She folded her arms.
“Don’t start making accusations when you don’t understand what’s been happening.”
I looked around.
Dirty baby bottles filled the sink.
No formula cans.
No groceries.
The thermostat had been turned off.
Claire’s prescription bottle sat empty on the counter.
My father’s glasses were broken on the floor.
“What happened here?”
Claire started crying.
My mother rolled her eyes.
“She’s been emotional ever since the baby came.”
My father looked at me.
“Daniel, take Claire and the baby somewhere warm. Now.”
Ryan shoved at my chest.
“This is being blown way out of proportion.”
I stared at him.
“Why were you attacking Dad?”
“He attacked me.”
“You shoved a seventy-year-old man into a wall.”
“He came in here screaming.”
“Why?”
Nobody answered.
My phone vibrated.
A banking notification.
Transaction declined — Mercer Family Platinum Card.
Then another.
Transaction declined.
Then another.
Las Vegas.
Las Vegas?
I opened the banking app.
Thirty-two charges had been made in nine days.
Hotel suites.
Restaurants.
Designer stores.
Spa services.
Airline tickets.
More than $41,000.
All from cards attached to accounts I paid.
I slowly raised my eyes.
My mother saw the screen.
Her expression changed.
“Daniel, I can explain.”
Claire whispered from the floor.
“They left us here.”
I turned toward her.
“What?”
Her voice shook.
“Your mother and Ryan. They went to Las Vegas after Christmas.”
My mother stepped forward.
“That is not—”
“They took the space heaters,” Claire continued. “They said the electric bill was already too high.”
I felt something cold move through me.
“Claire.”
“They took my debit card too.”
I stared at my mother.
She looked away.
“Why would you take my wife’s card?”
Ryan answered.
“Because she was wasting money.”
“On what?”
Silence.
Claire looked at Noah.
“Formula.”
That single word nearly destroyed me.
My phone was still in my hand.
I opened the account controls.
My mother noticed.
“Daniel.”
I froze every secondary card.
Ryan’s.
My mother’s.
My sister Megan’s.
The travel card.
The family emergency card.
The business expense card Ryan had somehow been using.
One by one.
LOCKED.
LOCKED.
LOCKED.
My mother’s phone buzzed.
Then Ryan’s.
“What the hell did you do?” he demanded.
I looked at the clock.
10:58 p.m.
“You wanted a New Year’s surprise?”
I slid my phone into my pocket.
“You’ve got one.”
My mother’s face hardened.
“You cannot punish your entire family because Claire is being dramatic.”
I looked down at my wife.
Her hands were shaking.
Then I saw something beneath the kitchen table.
A small black security camera.
The one I installed before leaving.
Its green light was blinking.
Recording.
I looked at Claire.
Then at my mother.
And for the first time that night, Linda Mercer looked afraid.
I didn’t know yet what was on that camera.
I didn’t know why my wife had been left without heat, food, medication, or money.
I didn’t know why my father had arrived less than twenty minutes before me and immediately attacked Ryan.
But I knew this:
May you like
Whatever my family had done to Claire was recorded.
And before midnight, I was going to watch every second.
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