Chương 7
His phone vibrated.
A notification from social media appeared on the lock screen.
Paige had tagged him in a post.
Nora saw it too.
Neither spoke for a second.
Ryan opened it.
The post was already three minutes old.
Some people forget where they came from the second a little money shows up.
Imagine throwing your own mother and sisters into the street while your wife lies about being mistreated.
Blood means nothing to some people.
Ryan read it twice.
There were already comments.
One from a cousin in Tennessee asking what happened.
Another from someone Ryan vaguely remembered from high school saying family should come first.
Marla had reacted with a broken-heart emoji.
Ryan nearly threw the phone.
Nora held out her hand.
"Give it to me."
"Why?"
"Because you're gripping it like it owes you money."
He gave it to her.
She locked the screen and set it on the table.
"Don't fight on Facebook from a labor and delivery room."
"I wasn't going to."
"You absolutely were."
"I was going to correct the facts."
"With twelve paragraphs?"
"Maybe nine."
That got a tired smile from her.
Then she said, "Take screenshots."
Ryan looked at her.
"Of the post?"
"Everything."
"Why?"
"Because Paige deletes things when they stop going her way."
He picked up the phone again.
"How do you know that?"
Nora hesitated.
"She posted about me Wednesday."
His thumb stopped.
"What?"
"It wasn't my name."
"What did she say?"
"Ryan."
"What did she say?"
Nora exhaled.
"That some women use pregnancy to control their husbands and isolate them from family."
Ryan stared at her.
"You saw it?"
"Brooke showed me."
That surprised him more than the post itself.
"Brooke?"
"She said Paige was being an idiot."
"Did she defend you?"
"No."
Of course not.
Nora looked embarrassed on Brooke's behalf.
"She deleted it after an hour."
Ryan took screenshots of the new post.
Then comments.
Then the time.
Then he put the phone down before he could do anything else.
Claire returned with the obstetrician just before midnight.
Dr. Shah had a calm, economical way of speaking that Ryan liked because nothing in her tone invited panic.
The contractions had reduced significantly.
The baby's tracing remained reassuring.
Nora's labs showed dehydration and mild electrolyte imbalance but nothing suggesting an immediate delivery.
They wanted to monitor her for several more hours.
"If everything stays quiet, we may send you home in the morning," Dr. Shah said.
Ryan asked, "Should she be going home?"
"Medically, perhaps."
He caught the distinction.
"Otherwise?"
Dr. Shah looked at Nora.
"Do you feel safe there?"
Nora glanced at Ryan.
He hated that she had to think before answering.
"Now?" she asked.
"Yes."
"I think so."
Ryan said, "The people who were there are gone."
Dr. Shah nodded.
"Good."
Then she looked at Nora's arm.
"We also need to document those bruises."
Nora's shoulders tightened.
Ryan said nothing.
The doctor continued gently.
"I'm not asking you to make any decisions tonight."
"Police?"
"Not necessarily."
Dr. Shah pulled a stool closer.
"But your chart should reflect what happened accurately."
Nora looked at Ryan again.
He forced himself not to answer for her.
After several seconds, she nodded.
"Okay."
A nurse photographed the bruising with Nora's consent and wrote down her account of Paige grabbing her.
Ryan stood by the window while it happened.
He could hear every word.
When Nora described Marla telling Paige not to leave marks, his eyes closed.
There it was again.
Not anger.
Not panic.
Instruction.
When the nurse left, Ryan sat beside Nora.
"I need to tell you something else."
Nora looked exhausted.
"Please let it be about eggs."
"It isn't."
He took out his phone and opened his email.
Six weeks of unread promotional junk surrounded the message he wanted.
He found it by searching the lawyer's name.
Daniel Hargrove.
Estate counsel.
Ryan opened the attachment.
The blue envelope at home contained a printed copy, but the email held the same letter.
He handed Nora the phone.
She read slowly.
Halfway down the page, her expression changed.
"Ryan."
"I know."
"No, look."
She enlarged a paragraph.
Ryan leaned closer.
The trust distribution was not solely to him.
The beneficiary line listed Ryan Mercer and any surviving biological children of Thomas Mercer.
Ryan read it again.
Then again.
His father had four children.
Ryan.
Paige.
Tessa.
Brooke.
Nora looked at him.
"Your sisters are beneficiaries too."
"Apparently."
"Did you know?"
"No."
"You never read this part?"
"I skimmed it at work."
Nora stared at him in disbelief.
"You skimmed a six-figure inheritance?"
"I was unloading washing machines."
Despite everything, she laughed.
It turned into a wince, and Ryan immediately sobered.
"I'm sorry."
"No, that was worth it."
Ryan took the phone back.
The estimated trust value was larger than he remembered because he had focused only on the preliminary distribution beside his own name.
Each sibling appeared entitled to an equal share after the property sale and estate expenses.
Approximately thirty-five thousand dollars each.
Ryan sat very still.
Nora whispered, "Then why are they looking for your letter?"
That question changed the shape of everything.
If Paige already knew about the inheritance, she did not need Ryan's copy to claim her share.
If she did not know, then someone had told her enough to search for it without telling her the part that benefited her.
Ryan scrolled further.
At the bottom of the letter was a paragraph he had barely noticed.
Beneficiaries were required to submit identity documents directly to the estate attorney.
No beneficiary could claim another's share.
No authorization had yet been received from Paige, Tessa, or Brooke.
Only Ryan had responded.
Nora watched him read.
"Your mom knows they're included?"
"She got contacted before I did."
"Then why wouldn't she tell them?"
Ryan looked toward the dark hospital window.
Marla had spent four days searching his apartment.
She had gone to his storage unit.
May you like
She had asked about insurance, leases, overtime, and debt.
She had told Paige to avoid leaving bruises.
