Chapter 4 - The Price of BloodBy morning, Asher was stable.
His body temperature had returned to normal, but the emergency physician wanted him observed through the night.
Rachel sat beside his bed.
Miles stood at the window.
Neither had spoken for several minutes.
Finally Rachel said, “You knew.”
Miles turned.
“Knew what?”
“That your mother hated him.”
“I knew she was difficult.”
“Difficult?”
Rachel’s voice rose.
“She locked him in an industrial freezer.”
“I know.”
“You spent years telling me she didn’t mean the things she said.”
Miles looked down.
Rachel continued.
“When she refused to put his picture on the Christmas table, you said she was old-fashioned.”
“I was wrong.”
“When she told him the Mercer name would never belong to him, you told me not to make it bigger than it was.”
“I was wrong.”
“When he stopped wanting to visit this house—”
“I was wrong!”
Asher stirred.
Both adults went silent.
Miles lowered his voice.
“I was wrong.”
Rachel stared at him.
Tears gathered in her eyes.
“I needed you to see it before this happened.”
Miles had no defense.
That was what hurt most.
He sat beside Asher.
The boy’s eyes opened.
“Hey, buddy.”
Asher looked toward his mother first.
Then at Miles.
“Is Grandma here?”
“No.”
“Can she come in?”
Miles swallowed.
“No.”
Asher studied his face.
“Are you mad at me?”
Rachel closed her eyes.
Miles leaned closer.
“No. Never.”
“I went in Grandpa’s office.”
“You didn’t deserve what happened.”
“She said I stole the key.”
“Did you?”
“I found it.”
“I believe you.”
Asher’s eyes filled.
“She said if I told anybody she’d make Mom go away.”
Rachel stiffened.
Miles looked at her.
“What exactly did she say?”
Asher squeezed the blanket.
“She said Mom only gets to live there because you let her. And if I kept causing trouble, you’d choose your real family.”
Rachel looked away.
Miles felt something in his chest break.
He had heard his mother say versions of those words.
Not to Asher.
To him.
“Blood is the only thing people can’t divorce away.”
“Your wife came with another man’s child.”
“Someday you’ll understand the difference between love and obligation.”
He had told himself Vivian was from another generation.
Now he wondered whether that excuse had simply been cowardice.
Rachel’s phone buzzed.
Conrad.
Miles answered.
His father’s first words were:
“Did you sign a three-point-two-million-dollar loan application?”
Miles stood.
“What?”
Conrad described the document.
Miles’s face drained.
“No.”
“Your signature is on it.”
“I never signed that.”
“You signed papers for Alder House.”
“Not a loan.”
“Then we need proof.”
Miles remembered something.
“The papers.”
“What?”
“When Mom brought them, I signed them at her house.”
“What house?”
“The lake cottage.”
Vivian owned a small cottage forty miles away.
“She told me the documents had duplicate signature pages because the LLC filing service needed originals.”
Conrad went quiet.
“How many blank signature pages did you sign?”
Miles felt sick.
“Three.”
Rachel stared at him.
Conrad swore softly.
“Get back here when Asher is discharged. Nora is coming.”
“Dad—”
The line went dead.
Across town, Vivian sat in an interview room at the police station.
She had not been arrested for the financial issues.
Not yet.
But officers were investigating the freezer incident and the slap.
Her attorney sat beside her.
Vivian remained calm.
She insisted the freezer door had been open.
She said Asher exaggerated.
She claimed Janelle had threatened and provoked her.
Then the detective placed photographs on the table.
One showed the frost on Asher’s clothing.
Another showed the industrial freezer.
A third showed a red mark on Janelle’s cheek.
Vivian barely glanced at them.
“My husband will clear this up.”
The detective folded her hands.
“Mr. Mercer gave us the video.”
Vivian looked up.
For the first time, her attorney turned toward her.
“What video?”
Vivian said nothing.
The detective continued.
“He also told us he believes financial records may have been removed from his home.”
Vivian’s lawyer requested a break.
Outside the room, he faced her.
“What did you do?”
Vivian’s mouth tightened.
“This family was being stolen from me.”
“That isn’t an answer.”
“You don’t understand Conrad.”
“I understand forged deeds.”
Vivian stared at him.
He hadn’t known about the deed.
She realized it too late.
Her attorney stepped backward.
“Is there a forged deed?”
Vivian slowly picked up her purse.
“I want another lawyer.”
He laughed once in disbelief.
“That would be wise.”
Vivian was released later that afternoon while prosecutors reviewed potential charges and investigators gathered statements.
When she returned to the mansion, her electronic gate code no longer worked.
She pressed the intercom.
Conrad answered.
“You’re not coming inside.”
“This is my home.”
“No.”
“You can’t lock me out of my own property.”
“The property you secretly transferred to an LLC?”
Silence.
Then Vivian smiled at the camera.
“You finally found it.”
Conrad felt the answer more than he heard it.
“You forged my name.”
“Prove it.”
The intercom went dead.
Vivian remained outside the gate for another minute.
Then her phone rang.
Unknown number.
She answered.
A distorted voice said:
“You were supposed to destroy the flash drive.”
Vivian looked toward the mansion.
“I did.”
“No,” the caller replied.
“You destroyed a copy.”
May you like
Vivian’s smile vanished.
“And the original is still inside the house.”
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