Chapter 4 - Grant Comes HomeGrant entered the Mercer mansion at 5:18 the next morning.
He had not slept.
His shirt was wrinkled from the flight.
His tie hung from his coat pocket.
Kiara met him in the foyer.
For several seconds, neither spoke.
Then Grant asked the only question that mattered.
“Where is she?”
“Upstairs.”
“Is she okay?”
“Physically, the paramedics said she should be fine. They recommended follow-up.”
Grant closed his eyes.
“Physically.”
Kiara did not soften it.
“She’s terrified of Melanie.”
The words hit harder than Grant expected.
He walked upstairs.
Ayla was awake in Serena’s old bedroom.
She had chosen it herself after the police left.
Grant paused in the doorway.
His daughter sat beneath the quilt her mother had once used.
She looked very small.
“Ayla.”
She looked at him.
Something moved across her face.
Relief.
Then hesitation.
That hesitation destroyed him.
Grant approached slowly.
“Can I hug you?”
Ayla nodded.
He sat beside her.
The moment his arms closed around her, Ayla began crying.
Not loudly.
That was worse.
Her face pressed against his chest as if she had been holding the tears inside until he arrived.
“I’m sorry,” Grant whispered.
Ayla pulled back.
“For what?”
“For not being here.”
“You were working.”
“I should have known.”
She looked down.
Grant touched her hair gently.
“Has Melanie done things like this before?”
Ayla was silent.
His stomach turned.
“Ayla?”
“She never put me in the freezer before.”
Grant could barely breathe.
“What did she do?”
“She’d lock my room.”
“How often?”
“When you traveled.”
“What else?”
“She took Mom’s pictures.”
“What?”
“She said it wasn’t healthy to keep staring at dead people.”
Grant stood abruptly.
Ayla flinched.
He saw it.
His anger immediately collapsed into shame.
“I’m not angry at you.”
“I know.”
But she had flinched.
Grant would remember that for the rest of his life.
He sat again.
“Why didn’t you tell me?”
“I tried.”
The room became completely still.
“When?”
“Lots of times.”
Grant frowned.
“I would remember.”
Ayla looked at him.
“Would you?”
The question contained no cruelty.
That made it devastating.
She reminded him.
A dinner six months earlier.
Ayla had said she hated being alone with Melanie.
Grant had answered that adjusting to a stepmother took time.
A phone call from Boston.
Ayla had started crying.
Melanie had taken the phone and said Ayla was upset about homework.
Grant had believed her.
Three weeks earlier Ayla had begged to travel with him.
He had laughed.
Now every memory rearranged itself.
Grant covered his face.
“I failed you.”
Ayla whispered, “Dad…”
“No.”
He forced himself to look at her.
“You should never have had to convince me that you were scared.”
Ayla studied him.
Then she asked, “Do you believe me now?”
“Yes.”
“Even if Melanie says I’m lying?”
“Yes.”
“Even if she cries?”
“Yes.”
Ayla nodded.
That answer mattered.
Grant went downstairs afterward.
Kiara and Detective Bell were waiting in the library.
Bell showed him photographs of Serena’s damaged drawer.
Grant stared at the missing space.
“I haven’t opened this drawer in years.”
“Did Serena maintain financial records?”
“Everything.”
“Do you recognize Sable Ridge Advisory?”
Grant’s face hardened.
“Yes.”
Bell looked interested.
Grant opened his laptop.
He showed them the transfers.
Payments ranging from $45,000 to $190,000.
Total: $1,817,500.
Kiara stared.
“All this from your company?”
“Mercer Urban Development.”
“Who can authorize payments?” Bell asked.
“Me. Spencer. Two accounting officers above certain limits.”
“And you never approved these?”
“No.”
Bell pointed at the digital signature.
“Someone did using your credentials.”
Grant’s jaw clenched.
“I want Spencer’s access frozen.”
“Call your counsel first. Preserve everything.”
Grant called his general counsel and outside forensic accountants.
By 7:00 a.m., Spencer’s company access was suspended.
At 7:12, Spencer called.
Grant watched the name flash across his screen.
Kiara and Bell looked at him.
Grant answered.
“Morning, Spencer.”
“What the hell is going on?”
“You tell me.”
“My access is dead.”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
Grant looked at the video paused on Kiara’s phone.
“Where’s my wife?”
Silence.
Then Spencer laughed once.
“You’re tired.”
“Where is Melanie?”
“I have no idea.”
Grant’s hand tightened.
“Interesting.”
“What is?”
“She left my house in a black Mercedes five hours ago.”
Nothing.
Grant continued.
“And Kiara has a video.”
Spencer stopped breathing for a fraction too long.
Grant heard it.
“A video of what?”
“You tell me.”
Spencer hung up.
Grant lowered the phone.
Detective Bell said, “That was useful.”
Grant stared at the dark screen.
“No.”
He looked toward Serena’s open drawer.
“That was confirmation.”
A notification appeared on his laptop.
His attorney had sent preliminary corporate records for Sable Ridge Advisory.
Grant opened the attachment.
The company had been incorporated eighteen months earlier in Delaware.
Registered agent information led to a holding service.
But the original organizer’s contact address had accidentally remained visible in an old filing.
Grant knew the address.
He had sent Christmas gifts there for years.
It belonged to Spencer Voss.
Kiara exhaled.
“So he stole from you.”
Grant shook his head.
“Not alone.”
Bell looked at him.
Grant turned the computer.
A second document had appeared.
A bank compliance report.
One of Sable Ridge’s transfers had been used to make a $320,000 down payment on a condominium.
The purchaser was not Spencer.
It was Melanie Mercer.
Grant stared at his wife’s name.
Then Ayla’s words echoed in his head.
Once Grant signs Friday, it’s finished.
May you like
Friday was two days away.
Whatever Melanie and Spencer were planning, the stolen money was only preparation.
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