Chapter 9 - ROMAN TRIED TO DESTROY GENEVIEVE ONE LAST TIME
Roman could not reach us from federal detention.
So he attacked Genevieve.
Through lawyers.
Through newspapers.
Through leaked documents.
The first headline appeared while Jonah was undergoing treatment.
MERCER WIFE ALLEGEDLY DIVERTED MILLIONS BEFORE DEATH.
I stared at the article.
Fabricated financial records claimed Genevieve had secretly transferred family money into accounts connected to Mara.
The implication was clear.
Genevieve had been stealing.
Mara had been benefiting.
Roman was the victim trying to correct the fraud.
Prescott called.
“It’s everywhere.”
“Can we prove it false?”
“Yes.”
“Then do that.”
“Lawson, this is bigger.”
“How?”
“The organization believes Genevieve may have been working against the family.”
I laughed.
“She was.”
Prescott went quiet.
I continued.
“She wanted legitimacy.”
“She wanted the twins outside the organization.”
“She wanted me out.”
“That qualifies.”
Silence.
Then Prescott asked:
“Do you?”
I looked through the hospital glass.
Jonah slept after treatment.
Blythe colored at a small table with Mara.
“Do I what?”
“Want out.”
The answer came before I could measure it.
“Yes.”
Prescott exhaled.
“That makes the leak dangerous.”
“Why?”
“Because men who stayed loyal to you will wonder whether Roman was right.”
“That Genevieve made me weak.”
“Yes.”
I smiled.
“She did.”
Prescott sounded alarmed.
“That is not helpful.”
“She made me weak enough to care whether my children grew up afraid of me.”
Mara looked over.
She could not hear Prescott.
But she saw my expression.
I continued.
“Release the real documents.”
“All?”
“Everything legal.”
“Some show questionable company transfers.”
“Then let auditors question them.”
“Lawson.”
“I’m done hiding Roman’s crimes behind Mercer secrecy.”
That was the beginning.
Prescott worked with attorneys.
Independent auditors entered companies my family had kept closed for decades.
Federal prosecutors received records.
The legitimate businesses were separated from criminal income streams.
Warehouses.
Restaurants.
Real estate.
Freight.
Construction.
Some would survive.
Some would not.
Men called me a traitor.
One lieutenant quit.
Another threatened war.
Prescott handled it.
Mostly legally.
I told him to surprise himself.
Then Mara came into the family waiting room carrying an old USB drive.
“What?”
“This was inside Genevieve’s ring box.”
I stared.
“What ring box?”
“The one she gave me.”
“You had more?”
“I didn’t know.”
Mara looked shaken.
“I broke the lining accidentally.”
Inside had been a tiny drive.
We opened it on an isolated laptop provided by federal investigators.
Genevieve appeared on-screen.
My heart stopped.
She sat inside her dressing room at the estate.
Hair loose.
No makeup.
Alive.
“Lawson.”
I covered my mouth.
Mara sat beside me.
Genevieve smiled faintly.
“If you are watching this, I was either right about Roman or dramatically paranoid.”
I laughed through tears.
“Please choose dramatically paranoid.”
My chest broke.
She continued.
“I found financial guarantees using signatures that look like yours.”
Her expression hardened.
“They are not.”
I stared.
“I also found references to the twins’ reversion shares.”
Genevieve looked directly into the camera.
“If Roman is behind this, he is not protecting the family. He is protecting debt.”
She paused.
“And if Franklin is helping him, do not kill Franklin.”
I laughed helplessly.
Mara did too.
Genevieve continued.
“I know you.”
She smiled.
“Lawson, evidence first.”
My wife had predicted me perfectly.
Then her expression softened.
“There is something else.”
I leaned closer.
“My sister.”
Mara started crying.
“If Mara comes to you, believe her long enough to check.”
She looked directly at the camera.
“Not blindly.”
“Never blindly.”
“But check.”
Mara covered her face.
Genevieve continued.
“I kept her away from you because your life makes everyone around you a target.”
That hurt.
“You’ll be angry.”
“Yes,” I whispered.
“I’m sorry.”
She paused.
“I wanted one person outside Mercer influence.”
Mara whispered, “Genevieve.”
Then my wife said something that silenced both of us.
“If anything happens to me, do not make my death the reason you become worse.”
I stopped breathing.
“Grief will tell you cruelty is loyalty.”
Her eyes filled.
“It isn’t.”
Mara reached for my hand.
This time I let her.
Genevieve continued.
“If the twins ever become part of this war, get them out.”
My chest tightened.
“Burn every dollar if you have to.”
She smiled sadly.
“They need a father more than they need an empire.”
The video ended.
I sat in silence.
For two years, I had honored Genevieve by becoming harder.
More feared.
More isolated.
I thought grief required it.
She had known exactly what I would do.
And asked me not to.
I looked at Mara.
“You knew she wanted me out?”
“Yes.”
“Why didn’t you say?”
“You were barely trusting me about medicine.”
Fair.
“She loved you.”
My throat tightened.
“I know.”
“No.”
Mara shook her head.
“She loved you enough to know what you were.”
That landed differently.
Not innocence.
Not fantasy.
Choice.
“And she still wanted better from you.”
I closed my eyes.
“I failed.”
“So far.”
I looked at Mara.
She smiled faintly.
“Annoying, right?”
“Very.”
A nurse entered.
“Mr. Mercer.”
My body tightened automatically.
Then she smiled.
“Jonah’s treatment finished.”
I stood.
“How is he?”
“Sleeping.”
“And Blythe?”
“Tomorrow.”
I exhaled.
The next day, Blythe underwent hers.
No crisis.
No emergency.
No dramatic miracle.
Just medicine.
Monitoring.
Waiting.
Weeks followed.
Then the first major reassessment.
Camille and Elena entered together.
I hated that.
Two doctors usually meant bad news.
Mara squeezed my hand beneath the table.
Elena smiled.
“Jonah has no detectable disease by our current testing threshold.”
The world stopped.
I stared.
“What?”
Camille smiled too.
“He is in remission.”
My knees weakened.
“And Blythe?”
A pause.
My heart stopped again.
Then:
“Also no detectable disease.”
I made a sound I had never made in my life.
Half laugh.
Half sob.
Mara covered her face.
I stood.
Did not know where to go.
What to do.
Camille continued talking.
Follow-up.
Risk.
Monitoring.
Not guarantees.
I heard almost none of it.
Both.
Alive.
Remission.
I walked into their room.
Jonah looked up from a video game.
Blythe was drawing.
“Dad?”
I stood there crying.
Blythe frowned.
“What happened?”
I laughed.
“Nothing.”
Jonah looked suspicious.
“You’re crying.”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
I crossed the room.
Dropped to my knees.
Pulled both of them into my arms.
“Because you’re staying.”
Blythe hugged my neck.
Jonah laughed.
“Told you.”
I held them.
Ten days.
That was all we had supposedly been given.
We had reached thirty-seven.
Then forty.
May you like
Then forty-one.
And suddenly the calendar belonged to us again.
