Chapter 6 - THE DEAD MAN’S LEDGERMy father kept everything.
ASHFORD WEDDING IMPLODES BEFORE CAKE CUTTING
BILLIONAIRE GROOM EXPOSES BRIDE'S FAMILY
FEDERAL AGENTS INTERRUPT SOCIETY WEDDING
I ignored them.
Victoria didn't have that luxury.
By nine a.m., her closest society friends had stopped answering.
By ten, two charities removed her from upcoming events.
By noon, the fashion house that had dressed her released a polite statement about “reviewing future partnerships.”
I found her sitting alone in the Mercer penthouse kitchen.
The same woman who had spent $1,800 on champagne for a bridal brunch was eating toast.
No makeup.
No stylist.
No assistants.
She looked human.
“I didn't know you were coming,” she said.
“I'm collecting some documents.”
She nodded.
I started toward the study.
“Nathan.”
I stopped.
“I'm sorry about your mother.”
That was not what I expected.
“She didn't deserve what I said.”
“No.”
“I called her.”
I turned.
“She didn't answer.”
“She's probably teaching.”
Victoria frowned.
“It's Saturday.”
“She tutors.”
“For money?”
“No.”
The confusion on Victoria's face nearly made me laugh.
“She does it because some kids need help.”
“Oh.”
That one syllable revealed how distant her world had been from mine.
Victoria looked down.
“I'd like to apologize.”
“You should.”
“Do you think she'll forgive me?”
“My mother once forgave a student who released a hamster in her car. Your odds are decent.”
Victoria almost smiled.
It disappeared quickly.
I entered the study.
The desk drawers had been pulled apart.
Alexander had taken the proposed marital amendment, but he'd missed something.
A blue folder rested behind the bottom drawer.
Inside were copies of land surveys.
Mercer Shipyard.
My heart pounded.
“Victoria.”
She came in.
“What?”
“Have you seen these?”
She looked.
“No.”
They had been hidden inside her desk.
Not mine.
Her desk.
The documents showed proposed rail links, dredging schedules, government planning zones, and valuation projections.
One number had been circled.
$4.7 billion.
Victoria went pale.
“Alexander put those there.”
“How do you know?”
“He used that blue folder.”
“When?”
“Whenever he brought paperwork for Dad.”
I called Rebecca.
She arrived forty minutes later with two forensic accountants.
By afternoon, we knew enough to understand the plan.
Thomas Vane had obtained confidential information about the potential freight corridor.
Alexander intended to acquire Ashford Capital's debts cheaply.
Then, through Victoria, he hoped to gain leverage over Mercer Shipyard after our marriage.
The missing amendment granted Victoria authority to approve certain sales if I became incapacitated.
“That alone wouldn't give Alexander control,” Rebecca said.
“No.”
“Unless something happened to you.”
The room became silent.
Victoria looked at me.
“What does that mean?”
Rebecca's voice was careful.
“It means the agreement becomes far more useful if Nathan can't make decisions himself.”
Victoria backed away.
“You think Alexander planned to hurt him?”
“We don't know.”
Then my phone rang.
Unknown number.
I answered.
“Nathan Mercer?”
“Yes.”
A man's voice.
“You should ask what happened to your father's plane.”
The line disconnected.
I stared at the phone.
My father had died in a small private-plane crash twelve years earlier.
Mechanical failure.
Officially.
I called the number back.
Disconnected.
Rebecca saw my face.
“What?”
I told her.
Victoria gripped the counter.
“Could Thomas have been involved back then?”
“No.”
Thomas had only been a mid-level accountant.
But my father's crash had always bothered me.
He was obsessive about maintenance.
The NTSB had concluded a fuel-system problem caused engine failure shortly after takeoff.
There had been no evidence of sabotage.
I had accepted it.
Until now.
We contacted Agent Monroe.
The response came faster than expected.
The federal investigation already included several deaths.
Three investors connected to Ashford Capital had died under unusual circumstances.
A boating accident.
A fall.
A supposed suicide.
“All within two years,” Monroe said.
Victoria whispered, “Alexander?”
“We don't know.”
My mind returned to my father.
“Reopen the crash.”
Monroe shook his head.
“That's not my authority.”
“Tell me who has it.”
He studied me.
“We'll pass the information.”
“That's not good enough.”
“Nathan,” Rebecca warned.
I stopped.
Money had always solved practical problems for me.
Broken equipment.
Payroll shortages.
Expansion.
Medical bills.
But money couldn't order the government to discover whether my father had been murdered.
It couldn't undo Victoria's betrayal.
It couldn't restore people's stolen savings.
For the first time in years, I felt powerless.
That evening, Victoria packed a suitcase.
“Where are you going?”
“My parents' place.”
“They don't have one.”
She stopped.
Right.
The Ashford penthouse lease expired Monday.
Their supposed Hamptons property was rented.
Their old family townhouse had been mortgaged twice and sold quietly eighteen months ago.
Victoria sat on her suitcase.
“I don't have anywhere to go.”
I could have enjoyed that.
Some part of me wanted to.
Instead, I remembered my mother's words.
Money reveals people.
It shouldn't decide whether they deserve basic dignity.
“You can stay here for now.”
Victoria stared.
“After everything?”
“The guest room.”
“Nathan—”
“This is not reconciliation.”
“I understand.”
“Do you?”
She nodded.
“I think I'm starting to.”
At eleven thirty that night, the building's security alarm sounded.
Someone had entered the service garage using an expired Ashford security credential.
Our cameras caught a black SUV.
The driver never showed his face.
Security blocked the elevator.
The SUV fled.
But before leaving, the driver threw something from the window.
A small package.
Inside was an old photograph.
My father standing beside a younger Charles Ashford.
And behind them—
Thomas Vane.
The date printed on the photograph was thirteen years old.
Thomas had known Charles long before either man had admitted.
On the back, someone had written four words.
YOUR FATHER FOUND OUT.
Victoria read them over my shoulder.
Then whispered:
“Nathan… found out what?”
May you like
I looked at my father's smiling face.
“I think we're about to discover why he died.”
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