Chapter 4 - The Enemy at the DoorJulian wanted Vincent found immediately.
She didn't expect a fortress.
The black SUV carrying her stopped before iron gates twelve feet high. Cameras turned as the vehicle approached. Beyond them stretched acres of manicured lawn, bare winter trees, stone walls, and a limestone house overlooking Lake Michigan.
“Subtle,” Nora murmured.
Marco glanced at her from the driver's seat.
“Mr. Mercer dislikes surprises.”
“People who dislike surprises usually buy alarm systems. They don't construct small nations.”
“He has an alarm system too.”
Of course he did.
Nora had barely slept.
Her landlord had agreed to wait forty-eight hours after Nora transferred him the last forty dollars in her account.
Breakfast had been instant coffee and half a granola bar.
She had spent thirty minutes trying to decide what a person wore to a meeting with a mafia boss and had finally chosen black slacks and the only blouse without a stain.
Marco stopped near the front entrance.
“Don't wander.”
“Why?”
“Because people will assume you're supposed to be wherever you are.”
“That sounds convenient.”
“It isn't.”
Inside, the Mercer house was quieter than the restaurant.
No gold statues.
No velvet ropes.
Just dark wood, stone fireplaces, old family photographs and a view of gray water stretching toward the horizon.
Julian was standing in the library.
No jacket.
White shirt.
Sleeves rolled to his forearms.
He was arguing with someone on the phone.
“No. Cancel Zurich.”
Pause.
“I don't care what the board thinks.”
Another pause.
“My sister is in the hospital. Reschedule everything.”
He ended the call.
“You're early.”
“You said ten. It's nine fifty-three.”
“That qualifies as early in my family.”
Nora noticed coffee on the side table.
Her stomach betrayed her with a quiet growl.
Julian heard.
Naturally.
“You haven't eaten.”
“I'm fine.”
He pressed a button.
A woman appeared almost immediately.
“Maria, breakfast.”
Nora held up a hand.
“No, really—”
Julian ignored her.
“Eggs, toast, fruit.”
Nora stared.
“You always order strangers around this much?”
“Mostly people I know.”
“Comforting.”
He gestured toward a chair.
Nora sat.
Julian placed a folder in front of her.
“Employment agreement.”
“You had attorneys draft this overnight?”
“I already have attorneys.”
“Of course you do.”
Nora opened it.
The salary was real.
So were health insurance, transportation expenses, and a temporary apartment near the hospital if necessary.
She stopped on page four.
“Why is there an NDA?”
“My family values privacy.”
“Your family also has armed men outside the bathroom.”
“Security.”
“Tomato, tomahto.”
Julian sat opposite her.
“You can have your own attorney review it.”
“With the forty cents currently available on my debit card?”
He went still.
Nora regretted saying it.
She hadn't meant to expose how broke she was.
Julian didn't offer pity.
That made it easier.
“Use mine,” he said.
“That defeats the purpose.”
“I'll arrange an independent attorney.”
“I can read contracts.”
“I believe you.”
Breakfast arrived.
Nora tried not to attack the toast.
She failed.
Julian pretended not to notice.
Good man.
Dangerous man.
Complicated man.
“What exactly happened to your nursing career?” he asked.
“My mother was diagnosed with ovarian cancer during my third year.”
“I'm sorry.”
“She died fourteen months later.”
Julian's expression softened.
“My father died when Claire was seventeen.”
“How?”
A beat.
“Violently.”
Nora stopped eating.
That answer held an entire history.
She didn't press.
“My mother had no insurance by the end,” Nora said. “I picked up extra shifts. Missed clinical rotations. Couldn't keep tuition current.”
“So you left.”
“I planned to go back.”
“But?”
“Plans cost money.”
Julian looked toward the windows.
“I can pay your tuition.”
Nora nearly choked on coffee.
“No.”
“You haven't heard—”
“No.”
“It could be part of—”
“No.”
“Nora.”
“If you finish that sentence, I'm leaving.”
His eyes narrowed.
“Why?”
“Because I agreed to work for you. I didn't agree to become a rescue project.”
“You saved Claire's life.”
“And she doesn't owe me her brother's checkbook.”
Something shifted in Julian's face.
Respect, perhaps.
Or irritation.
Maybe both.
“Fine,” he said.
“Good.”
“But when your contract ends, if you want to discuss an educational loan—”
“You are relentless.”
“So I'm told.”
His phone vibrated.
Marco entered.
“We found something.”
Julian stood.
Nora followed despite Marco's warning glare.
They entered a security room filled with monitors.
Restaurant footage covered the screens.
Marco played a recording.
Claire entered the Halston at 6:52.
She looked healthy.
Laughing.
A man removed her coat.
Underneath, Nora saw the silk dress from last night.
No scarf.
No bruise visible.
“Keep going,” Julian said.
At 7:14, Claire walked toward the hallway near the restrooms.
A woman followed.
Nora leaned closer.
“That's the woman in green.”
“Bianca Rinaldi,” Marco said. “Daughter of Carlo Rinaldi.”
Nora waited for him to explain.
He didn't.
“Am I supposed to know who that is?”
Julian answered.
“Someone whose family dislikes mine.”
“Politically?”
“No.”
“Oh.”
The camera showed Bianca and Claire disappearing around a corner.
Four minutes later, Claire returned alone.
She touched her neck.
Julian's expression changed.
“Where is the camera covering that corridor?”
Marco switched views.
Static.
“Camera went offline for six minutes.”
“Convenient.”
“It was manually disconnected.”
Nora felt cold.
Claire emerged.
Thirty seconds later Bianca returned, perfectly composed.
Julian stared at the screen.
“Find her.”
Marco nodded.
Nora crossed her arms.
“Before you send six men to drag her into a basement, maybe talk to Claire.”
Julian looked at her.
“Why do you assume I have a basement?”
“Your house has gargoyles.”
“They're architectural.”
“They're threatening.”
His phone rang.
Hospital.
Julian answered immediately.
His face changed.
“What happened?”
Nora's chest tightened.
He listened.
“We're coming.”
He hung up.
“Claire's awake.”
Relief flooded Nora.
Then Julian added:
“And she asked for you.”
At the hospital, Claire looked smaller.
Machines surrounded her.
Her face was pale.
Her right hand lay motionless atop the blanket.
But she was awake.
Julian approached first.
Claire's eyes filled with tears.
“Hey,” he whispered.
She tried to speak.
“J…Jul…”
“I'm here.”
He took her hand.
Nora stayed near the door.
Claire looked past him.
At Nora.
Her fingers lifted slightly.
Nora walked over.
“You scared everybody.”
Claire tried to smile.
It was uneven but real.
Dr. Walsh entered with a speech therapist.
“We're limiting stimulation, but Claire insisted she needed to communicate.”
Claire made an impatient sound.
Julian smiled faintly.
“That part of her personality appears intact.”
Claire squeezed his fingers.
Then she pointed shakily toward a notepad.
The therapist placed it beneath her left hand.
Claire was right-handed.
Her writing was clumsy.
She formed one letter.
Then another.
B.
I.
A.
N.
C.
A.
Julian's face hardened.
“Bianca hurt you?”
Claire shook her head violently.
“No?”
Claire tapped the paper.
Then continued.
W.
A.
R.
N.
E.
D.
Nora leaned forward.
“She warned you?”
Claire nodded.
Julian stared.
“About what?”
Claire's hand trembled.
She wrote slowly.
U.
N.
C.
L.
E.
The room went silent.
Julian looked at the word.
Then at Claire.
“Vincent?”
Claire began crying.
May you like
And Nora suddenly understood that whatever had happened at dinner had not begun in the restaurant.
It had begun inside Julian Mercer's own family.
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