Chapter 6 - The Ledger's Deepest Secret
I locked the front doors, deactivated the estate's central alarm override, and headed back upstairs.
"Ellie," I called out gently, tapping on the heavy bedroom door. "It’s over. They're gone. The FBI took them."
A moment later, the sound of the heavy oak dresser scraping across the floorboards echoed from inside. The deadbolt clicked, and the door swung open.
Eliza stood there. She had washed her face, but the red swelling around her eyes and the jagged scabs on her shorn scalp were stark against her pale skin. She looked exhausted, as if she hadn't slept in weeks.
I pulled her into my arms, holding her tightly against my chest. She buried her face in my shoulder, her body shaking with long, shuddering breaths.
"Are they really gone?" she whispered.
"They're in federal custody," I said, stroking her back. "Evan Pierce is an FBI agent. He brought warrants for wire fraud, money laundering, and assault. They won't be coming back here."
I led her back to the bed and sat beside her. On the nightstand, Eliza's little leather notebook lay open under the soft yellow glow of the lamp.
"Nolan," she said softly, reaching out to touch the leather cover. "There’s something you still don't know."
"What is it?"
"The $70,000 Brooke claimed I stole," Eliza said, her fingers tracing the edge of the notebook. "Do you know what she actually spent that cash on three weeks ago?"
I shook my head. "I assumed it was her luxury card debts or gambling markers."
"No," Eliza said, looking directly into my eyes. Her expression was solemn, almost frightened. "Three weeks ago, Brooke hired two private men from an out-of-state security firm. She paid them seventy thousand dollars in untraceable cashier's checks."
A cold premonition tightened in my chest. "Why would Brooke hire private security?"
"Not security, Nolan," Eliza whispered. "She hired them to locate someone. Someone your mother told you died twenty-two years ago."
I froze. The room seemed to tilt beneath my boots.
"My older brother," I said slowly, the words feeling foreign and heavy on my tongue. "Julian."
"Julian didn't drown in Lake Michigan when he was twelve, Nolan," Eliza said, turning the notebook to an envelope tucked deep into the back pocket of the leather binding. She pulled out a faded, weathered birth certificate alongside a recent DMV printout from Texas. "Your mother staged the accident to collect his life insurance and hide what Julian discovered about her father's trust fund. Julian ran away, and Brooke just tracked him down."
My breath hitched. "Julian is alive?"
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"He was," Eliza said quietly. "Until three days ago, when Brooke’s hired men found his trailer outside of San Antonio. And that’s the real reason Diane wanted me silenced, Nolan. Because Julian didn't run away empty-handed all those years ago. He took the master keys to the Mercer Family Trust's original vault."
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