Chapter 5 - What Their Father BuriedThe photograph was seventeen years old.
Nora wanted Claire's blood pressure kept below the limit Dr. Walsh had written in the chart.
For ten minutes, those priorities collided spectacularly.
“Marco.”
“Don't.”
Julian turned toward Nora.
“Excuse me?”
“Your sister is recovering from a major stroke.”
“I am aware.”
“And hearing you plan a family war six feet from her bed isn't exactly restful.”
Claire made a faint sound that might have been laughter.
Julian looked at her.
Then Nora.
Then Marco.
“Outside.”
They stepped into the corridor.
Julian lowered his voice.
“My uncle tried to kill my sister.”
“We don't know that.”
“She wrote his name.”
“She wrote that Bianca warned her about him.”
“Which means—”
“It means Bianca knew something. That's all.”
Julian's jaw tightened.
“You defend everyone.”
“I defend facts.”
“You don't know Vincent.”
“Exactly. Neither do I know Bianca.”
Marco's phone buzzed.
He checked the message.
“We have Bianca.”
Nora stared.
“You have her?”
“We found her.”
“Your phrasing needs work.”
Julian walked toward the elevator.
Nora followed.
“Where are you going?”
“To speak with her.”
“So am I.”
“No.”
“Yes.”
“Nora.”
“Claire asked for me. Claire wrote Bianca's name. I saw Bianca at dinner. Maybe I'll notice something.”
Julian stopped.
“You are my employee.”
“For medical coordination.”
“Then coordinate medically.”
“I am. Preventing you from starting a gunfight while Claire is sedated seems good for her recovery.”
Marco turned away, very clearly hiding a smile.
Julian stared at Nora for several seconds.
Then walked into the elevator.
He didn't tell her to stay.
Nora took that as victory.
Bianca Rinaldi was waiting in a private conference room two floors below.
Not tied to a chair.
Not guarded by executioners.
Nora was mildly relieved.
Bianca was thirty, elegant and furious.
She stood when Julian entered.
“You finally listened.”
“What did you do to Claire?”
Bianca slapped him.
Marco moved instantly.
Julian raised one hand.
He didn't touch his cheek.
Bianca's eyes burned.
“I tried to save her.”
“Explain.”
“Vincent contacted my father three months ago.”
Julian went still.
“Why?”
“He wanted an alliance.”
“With Carlo?”
“Against you.”
Nora leaned against the wall.
Bianca glanced at her.
“The waitress.”
“Nora.”
“You saw Claire collapse.”
“Yes.”
Bianca's expression softened.
“Thank you.”
Julian stepped between them.
“Continue.”
Bianca gave him a disgusted look.
“Still charming.”
“Bianca.”
“Vincent told my father you were weak.”
Julian's eyes became unreadable.
“He said you had spent five years turning the Mercer organization legitimate. Cutting profitable operations. Refusing old alliances. Building hospitals, logistics companies, construction projects.”
Nora glanced at Julian.
That didn't match the version whispered in the Halston kitchen.
Bianca continued.
“Some people preferred your father.”
“My father is dead.”
“His methods aren't.”
Julian's face hardened.
“What did Vincent want?”
“Control.”
“Through Claire?”
“Through your removal.”
Nora felt the air change.
Bianca folded her arms.
“My father rejected him. Carlo Rinaldi may hate you, Julian, but he isn't stupid. A war between our families would cost everybody.”
“So why warn Claire?”
“Because Vincent approached me next.”
“What did he say?”
“That I should convince my father before circumstances forced the issue.”
“Circumstances?”
“He said soon you'd be too distracted to protect anything.”
Julian went quiet.
Bianca looked at Nora.
“At the restaurant, Claire went to the restroom. I followed her. I told her everything.”
“What happened in the corridor?” Nora asked.
“Nothing.”
“Claire came back touching her neck.”
Bianca frowned.
“She said she had a headache.”
“Did anyone else enter?”
Bianca thought.
“A server.”
Nora straightened.
“What server?”
“A man. White jacket. Dark hair.”
“The Halston servers wear black.”
Bianca stared.
Julian looked at Marco.
“Find him.”
Marco left.
Nora's pulse quickened.
“Did he touch Claire?”
“He bumped into her when he came around the corner.”
“How?”
“Shoulder first. She stumbled into the wall.”
“Did her neck hit?”
Bianca's expression changed.
“Yes.”
Julian turned cold.
“A staged collision.”
Nora raised her hand.
“Maybe.”
Bianca looked at her.
“You always correct him?”
“Someone should.”
Despite everything, Bianca smiled.
Julian did not.
By evening, Marco had a photograph.
The fake server's name was Ethan Vale.
No connection to the restaurant.
No valid employment record.
His vehicle had been found abandoned near O'Hare.
Vincent Mercer was missing.
Nora sat beside Claire that night.
Julian stood at the window.
Claire had managed several short phrases.
“Uncle… angry.”
Julian moved closer.
“About what?”
“Company.”
“What company?”
“Trust.”
Her speech therapist encouraged her to slow down.
Claire closed her eyes.
Nora touched her arm.
“No rush.”
Claire breathed.
Then whispered:
“Dad's trust.”
Julian frowned.
“Our father didn't leave a trust.”
Claire opened her eyes.
“Did.”
Julian stared.
“No. The estate was settled seventeen years ago.”
Claire shook her head.
“Mom… hid.”
Julian sat beside her.
“What did Mom hide?”
Claire tried to speak but fatigue overwhelmed her.
Dr. Walsh stepped in.
“That's enough.”
Julian wanted another question.
Nora caught his arm.
“Tomorrow.”
He looked down at her hand.
Nora released him.
“Tomorrow,” she repeated.
Julian nodded.
Claire slept.
Outside the hospital, snow had begun falling.
Nora walked toward the elevator.
“Marco will take you home,” Julian said.
“I can take the train.”
“It's midnight.”
“I've taken trains after midnight before.”
“Not anymore.”
She turned.
“Because I work for you?”
“Because Vincent knows you were at dinner.”
Nora's stomach dropped.
“He doesn't care about me.”
“He called someone after leaving the hospital.”
“How do you know?”
“I checked.”
“Of course you did.”
Julian approached.
“He said you remembered Claire's bruise.”
Nora went cold.
“How did you hear that?”
“Hospital security recorded the stairwell audio.”
Nora's bravado evaporated.
Julian saw it.
“He knows your name.”
“So?”
“So you're not taking the train.”
Nora looked toward Claire's room.
“Why would Vincent care about me?”
“Because people who notice things are dangerous to men who depend on nobody noticing.”
Nora thought of Gerald.
Forget your place.
She had spent years being told not to see too much, say too much, want too much.
Now someone might consider her a threat because she had done exactly that.
Julian's voice softened.
“You can quit.”
She looked at him.
“I'll pay the full contract regardless.”
“Why?”
“Because this wasn't part of what you agreed to.”
For the first time, Nora realized Julian was giving her an exit.
No pressure.
No debt.
No trap.
She considered it.
Her tiny apartment.
Her empty refrigerator.
Her unfinished degree.
Then Claire asleep behind the glass.
“No.”
Julian's brows drew together.
“No?”
“I'm staying.”
“This could become dangerous.”
“It already is.”
“You don't understand my world.”
“Then explain it.”
He looked at her for a long moment.
“My world takes things.”
Nora held his gaze.
“So does mine.”
Neither spoke.
Then Marco rushed around the corner.
“Boss.”
Julian turned.
“We found Vincent's car.”
“Where?”
“South Side.”
“And Vincent?”
“Gone.”
Marco hesitated.
“But there was something inside.”
He handed Julian a photograph.
Julian's face drained of color.
Nora stepped closer.
The photograph showed two children.
A teenage Julian.
A younger Claire.
Standing beside their father.
May you like
Written across the image in black ink were four words:
ONE HEIR TOO MANY.
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