Chapter 6 - GRANT MERCER CAME FOR CLAIRE BECAUSE ETHAN TRUSTED HER
The South Dock warehouse was empty.
At least the first one.
Grant had sent a location designed to pull Roman’s security away from Lake Forest.
Federal surveillance identified the trap before midnight.
A disposable phone used to message Roman pinged from south side for thirteen seconds, then went dark.
Nolan remained missing.
Claire remained at estate by choice.
That distinction mattered, though Roman still stationed enough security outside medical wing to repel an army.
“You’re overdoing it,” she said.
“Yes.”
“At least you know.”
“Yes.”
Progress.
Ethan’s rehab intensified as medication cleared.
He could now move his right index finger enough to activate a switch.
His left thumb occasionally flexed.
Eye tracking improved.
Dr. Morrison introduced speech-generating tablet.
For the first time, Ethan could select words without Claire manually reciting alphabet.
Slow.
Exhausting.
But his.
The first sentence he generated independently was:
ROMAN NEEDS THERAPY.
Claire laughed so hard she had to leave room.
Roman stared at twin.
“You were more pleasant unconscious.”
Ethan selected:
LIAR.
For a few minutes, almost normal.
Then the seriousness returned.
Nolan.
Grant.
Damian.
Investigators searched Nolan’s apartment and found something surprising.
A sealed envelope addressed to Roman.
Inside:
Copies of maritime ledgers.
The photo of Damian and Grant.
And one handwritten note.
If anything happens to me, Damian has someone inside household staff who reports medical and personal movements. I have not identified him. Do not trust the old security hierarchy.
Him.
Male.
Marissa had been separate leak through Grant.
There was still house key.
Roman’s paranoia deepened.
Claire noticed every glance.
Chef enters.
Roman watches.
Guard crosses hallway.
Roman watches.
Gardener.
Driver.
Maintenance.
He was turning mansion into suspicion machine.
At dinner, Claire said:
“You’re going to break everyone.”
Roman looked.
“I’m supposed to trust?”
“No.”
“Then?”
“Investigate without making every person prove innocence every time they breathe.”
He stared.
“That sounds simple.”
“It isn’t.”
“How?”
“Start with access.”
She pointed fork.
“Who knew Ethan was communicating before Damian board meeting?”
Roman thought.
Small group.
Roman.
Claire.
Dr. Morrison.
Kara.
Two independent technicians.
Three guards.
Head housekeeper.
Medical aide.
Nolan already knew.
Damian somehow learned before board.
“Camera footage?” Claire asked.
Roman nodded.
They reviewed.
No obvious calls.
Then Claire noticed something.
A maintenance technician entered medical wing carrying air-filter case.
Daniel Rusk.
Forty-five.
Employed at estate nine years.
Quiet.
Trusted.
On footage he passed Ethan’s room twice.
Never entered.
But stopped beneath ceiling camera.
Looked directly at it.
Claire leaned closer.
“He knows.”
Roman frowned.
“Camera?”
“Yes.”
“Impossible.”
“You installed personally.”
“Only I knew.”
“He looked straight at lens.”
Roman froze.
Daniel Rusk had serviced crown molding electrical work three days after cameras installed.
Roman had left estate for board dinner.
If he discovered wiring…
Security pulled access logs.
Rusk entered control closet twenty-two minutes.
Claimed HVAC inspection.
No scheduled order.
His phone records showed prepaid-number contact.
One number pinged near Damian’s residence.
Another near South Dock.
Roman stood.
“Get him.”
Claire said:
“Alive.”
He looked.
“Yes.”
Rusk was gone.
His employee locker contained burner phone packaging and $90,000 cash.
House key.
Another link.
Then alarm sounded.
Not estate perimeter.
Medical oxygen system.
Pressure dropped.
Dr. Morrison rushed toward Ethan.
Roman’s eyes narrowed.
“Sabotage.”
Claire turned.
Smoke began pouring from service corridor.
Fire alarm screamed.
Security moved.
Claire grabbed Ethan’s emergency respiratory kit.
Roman shouted:
“Claire, out!”
“Ethan first.”
The automated bed could detach and roll on battery.
Dr. Morrison and aide moved.
Smoke thickened faster than normal electrical fire.
Intentional.
A diversion.
Roman looked toward west hall.
“Rusk.”
Then lights failed.
Emergency generators engaged after two seconds.
Enough.
In that darkness, someone grabbed Claire.
A gloved hand covered her mouth.
She fought.
Elbow.
Heel.
Her body weight became advantage.
She drove backward.
The attacker cursed.
Claire bit his palm.
He struck side of her head.
She fell.
Roman heard.
“Claire!”
Gunshot? No. We can avoid user requested fiction okay, but still. Security closed.
Claire crawled behind medical cart.
Attacker pulled a knife.
Then Ethan’s speech device sounded loudly from bed.
BEHIND YOU.
The attacker turned instinctively.
Roman hit him.
Hard.
One punch.
Then another.
Security piled on.
Roman raised fist again.
Claire shouted:
“Stop!”
He froze.
The attacker was Daniel Rusk.
Blood at nose.
Conscious.
Alive.
Evidence.
Again.
Roman stood over him shaking.
Rusk smiled through blood.
“Mercer says hello.”
Roman’s face changed.
Claire got up.
Roman turned instantly.
“You’re bleeding.”
“So is he.”
“Claire.”
“I’m fine.”
She was not.
Cut near temple.
Roman approached.
Stopped.
“Can I?”
Even now.
Claire nodded.
He checked gently.
His hands were steady despite fury.
“Hospital.”
“No.”
“Yes.”
“Roman.”
“Possible concussion.”
Dr. Morrison shouted from Ethan’s bed:
“He’s right.”
Claire glared at everyone.
“Traitors.”
Ethan’s device said:
GO.
She stared.
“You too?”
YES.
Fine.
At hospital, CT was clear.
Three stitches.
Roman sat outside because Claire told him she needed five minutes alone.
He waited.
When she came out, he stood.
“You could have been taken.”
“Yes.”
His voice roughened.
“Grant asked for you.”
“Yes.”
“He sent Rusk into my home.”
“Yes.”
“I should move you somewhere.”
Claire stared.
He stopped.
“Sorry.”
Good.
“What do you want?” he asked.
She thought.
“My apartment.”
Roman frowned.
Claire still rented a small apartment in Waukegan though she spent nights at estate during shifts.
“It’s less secure.”
“It’s mine.”
“Okay.”
“I want two guards outside.”
He blinked.
“You’re asking?”
“Yes.”
“Mine?”
“Independent if possible.”
He almost smiled bitterly.
“You enjoy pain.”
“Sometimes.”
Kara arranged licensed protective team not directly under Roman.
Claire returned apartment.
Roman came only when invited.
The first night, they sat at her small kitchen table eating takeout.
No marble.
No armed men visible.
Roman looked too large for chair.
Claire smiled.
“What?”
“You don’t fit.”
“In chair?”
“In normal life.”
His expression changed.
“Maybe.”
She regretted.
Then he said:
“I’ve never had one.”
Her chest tightened.
“Normal?”
“No.”
“Did you want?”
Roman looked at cheap lamp, stack of mail, plant leaning desperately toward window.
“I don’t know.”
“Convenient answer.”
“It’s true.”
He looked at her.
“My father raised us to believe control kept us alive.”
“Did it?”
“Sometimes.”
“And other times?”
“It made enemies.”
Claire nodded.
Then Roman said:
“When Rusk grabbed you…”
She waited.
“I stopped thinking.”
“That is what people like Grant expect.”
“I know.”
“I don’t want to become another person you have to manage.”
Roman looked.
“Meaning?”
“You keep learning only because I’m there to stop you.”
She gestured.
“That cannot be my job.”
It hit harder than accusation.
Roman sat back.
“I know.”
“Do you?”
“Yes.”
He took breath.
“I called someone.”
“Who?”
“A therapist.”
Claire nearly dropped fork.
“What?”
Roman looked offended.
“Ethan suggested.”
“Ethan typed a joke.”
“He typed it three times afterward.”
She laughed.
Roman continued:
“I don’t know if I’ll continue.”
“That’s yours.”
“Yes.”
“Good.”
Silence.
Then Claire reached across table.
Touched his hand.
Roman froze.
“I was scared too,” she said.
He turned palm.
Did not close fingers until she intertwined.
“I thought he would take me.”
“I would have found you.”
Claire’s expression changed.
Roman corrected quickly.
“No.”
“What?”
“Wrong sentence.”
He breathed.
“I would have done everything I could.”
Better.
Claire smiled.
Then kissed him.
Once.
No dramatic music.
No empire.
Her apartment refrigerator hummed.
Roman stared afterward.
“Why?”
Claire raised eyebrow.
“Terrible response.”
“I mean…”
He looked almost humanly lost.
“You know what I mean.”
“I wanted to.”
His chest tightened.
“Do you?”
“What?”
“Want me.”
Claire thought.
“Yes.”
Roman’s gaze darkened.
“But wanting isn’t enough.”
“I know.”
“Not while I work in your house.”
“I can change reporting.”
“Not tonight.”
“Okay.”
“Not while Ethan is crisis.”
“Okay.”
“Not while Grant wants me kidnapped.”
“Strong argument.”
She smiled.
Roman touched her cheek only after she leaned into hand.
Then phone rang.
Kara.
They found Nolan.
Alive.
Dumped behind an abandoned repair shop.
Shot in leg.
Beaten.
But conscious.
He had escaped before Grant’s men could move him.
And he brought one final fact.
The original ambush had not been meant to injure Ethan.
Grant’s order had been:
Kill both twins.
Damian Hale was supposed to inherit operational control after their deaths.
Roman surviving had ruined plan.
Ethan surviving had terrified them.
And now that Ethan was speaking, Grant Mercer had no reason left to hide.
May you like
He was going to finish what he started.
---
Related Stories
