Chapter 3 - Shadows of GreenwichMy mother hurried toward the hallway as I went up to my old bedroom to grab my coat and handbag. She slipped through the door before I could close it, her eyes manic and frantic.
“Claire! What are you doing? Have you lost your mind?” she hissed, her voice a harsh whisper. “How did you meet Julian Mercer? Why didn't you tell us?”
“Because if I told you, you would have found a way to push Natalie toward him instead,” I said, zipping up my canvas coat—the same worn jacket I’d used for three winters while Ryan drove a leased BMW.
“Don't speak to me like that!” Margaret snapped, grabbing my arm. Her nails dug into my sleeve. “You listen to me, young lady. Your father’s company is three weeks away from insolvency. If Julian Mercer doesn't sign that fifty-million-dollar buyout, Bennett Logistics goes under! We will lose the house! We will be ruined!”
“Then maybe Ryan should sell his sports car,” I said, pulling my arm out of her grip.
“You selfish little creature!” she spat, her face contorting into pure venom. “We took you in! We raised you! You owe this family everything! You go down those stairs right now and tell Mr. Mercer that this was a joke. Tell him you want him to sign the contract!”
I looked around the small bedroom. It hadn't changed since I was eighteen. While Natalie’s room had been converted into a luxurious guest suite, mine still held the faded wallpaper, the sagging mattress, and the small desk where I used to study until two in the morning after finishing my night shifts at the diner.
“I owe you nothing, Mom,” I said softly. “You traded me for Ryan’s mistakes years ago. Tonight, the account is settled.”
When I walked down the grand staircase, Julian was standing in the foyer. My father was practically down on one knee, holding a pen and a copy of the merger agreement.
“Mr. Mercer, please,” Thomas pleaded, his forehead slick with sweat. “We can discuss the equity structure. We can give Mercer Holdings a controlling interest! Just sign the preliminary letter of intent!”
Julian adjusted his cuff links, his face unreadable. “The merger was contingent on Bennett Logistics meeting our ethical standards, Mr. Bennett. Right now, your balance sheet is built on wage theft from your own daughter and fraud committed by your son.”
“Claire!” my father turned to me, his voice high-pitched and desperate. “Tell him! Tell him we’re a family! Tell him how much we’ve done for you!”
I walked past my father without looking at him. “Let’s go, Julian.”
May you like
Julian opened the front door, allowing the cool evening air to sweep into the warm, suffocating house. Before he stepped out, he turned back to my father.
“The audit report will be delivered to the Securities and Exchange Commission on Monday morning, Thomas. Have a pleasant Thanksgiving.”
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