Chapter 2 - What Janelle RecordedConrad watched the video twice.
The first time, he said nothing.
The second time, his hand tightened around Janelle’s phone.
The recording was only forty-three seconds long.
It had been filmed through the narrow opening of Conrad’s study door eleven nights earlier.
Vivian stood beside his desk.
A blue folder lay open in front of her.
She held a document in one hand and her phone in the other.
Someone was speaking to her through the speaker, but the voice was too faint to identify.
Vivian’s words were unmistakable.
“The deed has already been recorded.”
A pause.
“No, Conrad doesn’t know.”
Another pause.
Then:
“Once he’s gone, the house is mine.”
Conrad stopped the video.
“What deed?”
Vivian laughed.
It sounded forced.
“This is absurd.”
“What deed?”
“There isn’t one.”
Janelle took the phone from Conrad.
“I saw her in your study three times that week.”
Vivian turned on her.
“You were spying on me?”
“I started paying attention when documents disappeared from the trash before I could empty it.”
Conrad’s gaze sharpened.
“What documents?”
“Copies. Property records. Something with the mansion’s address.”
Vivian folded her arms.
“The maid is inventing a conspiracy because I disciplined a spoiled child.”
Conrad looked at Asher.
The boy was trembling violently now.
Whatever was hidden in Janelle’s phone could wait.
He pulled off his overcoat and wrapped it around Asher’s shoulders.
“Asher, can you walk?”
The boy nodded.
He tried to stand.
His knees buckled.
Conrad caught him.
Vivian moved forward.
“He’s being dramatic.”
Conrad looked at his wife.
“Don’t.”
One word.
Vivian stopped.
Janelle called 911.
Within minutes, the mansion’s quiet front drive flashed red and white.
Paramedics assessed Asher in the foyer before carrying him outside.
His mother, Rachel, arrived twenty minutes later.
She had been at a dinner with her husband—Vivian and Conrad’s son, Miles—when Janelle called.
Rachel ran through the front door still wearing her coat.
“Asher?”
“He’s conscious,” Conrad said.
Rachel saw the frost still clinging to her son’s hair.
Her face changed.
“What happened?”
Asher looked at Vivian.
Rachel followed his eyes.
“No.”
Vivian lifted her chin.
“He was misbehaving.”
Rachel lunged.
Miles caught his wife around the waist before she reached Vivian.
“You put him in there?”
“Rachel—”
“You locked my son in a freezer?”
“He needs boundaries.”
Rachel screamed.
“You could have killed him!”
Two police officers entered behind the paramedics.
The room fell silent.
Vivian’s posture changed immediately.
Composed.
Elegant.
Offended.
“I think everyone is overreacting.”
Conrad stared at her.
There had been a time when that calmness impressed him.
Now it frightened him.
Asher was taken to the hospital with Rachel riding beside him.
Miles followed.
Before leaving, Conrad gave Janelle’s video to the responding officer and stated clearly that he had not authorized anyone to confine Asher in the freezer.
Vivian stood across the foyer.
“You’re giving them evidence against your wife?”
“I’m giving them evidence.”
“You don’t even know what happened.”
“I know enough.”
Her eyes narrowed.
“You always choose strangers over your own family.”
Conrad almost answered.
Then he realized something.
Those were nearly the same words Vivian had used whenever Rachel defended Asher.
Whenever Miles treated Asher like a son.
Whenever Conrad invited the boy into his office to watch baseball.
Strangers.
Outsiders.
Not blood.
He had heard the words for years.
He had simply chosen not to understand what they meant.
One of the officers approached Vivian.
“Mrs. Mercer, we need to speak with you separately.”
“I’m not going anywhere.”
“That’s fine. We can speak here.”
Conrad left them and went upstairs.
His study door was closed.
He unlocked it.
The room looked normal.
Desk.
Bookshelves.
Fireplace.
Family photographs.
He crossed to the bottom drawer of the desk.
Inside should have been a red leather document case.
It was gone.
Conrad stood very still.
Three weeks earlier, his estate attorney, Nora Bell, had delivered the case personally.
Inside were draft revisions to Conrad’s living trust.
Nothing had been signed.
Nothing had been finalized.
But the drafts contained one change Vivian had violently opposed when Conrad mentioned it.
The mansion would eventually be placed into a protected family trust.
Miles would have an interest.
Rachel would have occupancy protections if Miles died.
And Conrad had directed Nora to create a separate education trust for Asher.
Vivian had called it insanity.
“He isn’t even your grandson.”
Conrad had replied, “He calls me Grandpa.”
They had not discussed it again.
He opened his laptop.
Logged into the county property records website.
Typed the mansion’s address.
For several seconds, he simply stared.
A deed had been recorded thirty-seven days earlier.
Grantor:
Conrad Mercer.
Grantee:
Alder House Holdings LLC.
Consideration:
Ten dollars and other valuable consideration.
Conrad clicked the scanned document.
His signature appeared at the bottom.
It looked like his.
But it was not.
His heart began pounding.
There was a knock.
Janelle stood in the doorway.
“Mr. Mercer?”
He turned the screen toward her.
“Is this what you saw?”
She stepped closer.
Her eyes widened.
“Yes.”
Conrad looked again at the forged signature.
“Who owns Alder House Holdings?”
“I don’t know.”
A small voice came from behind them.
“I do.”
Conrad turned.
Asher should have been at the hospital.
But it wasn’t Asher.
Miles stood in the hallway.
Rachel had sent him back to collect clothes and insurance information.
He was staring at the laptop.
Conrad rose.
“What did you say?”
Miles’s face had gone pale.
“I said I know that name.”
Vivian’s son swallowed.
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“Because my mother asked me to sign papers for Alder House Holdings six months ago.”
And suddenly Conrad’s suspicion shifted from his wife to his own son.
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