Chương 9
"Years ago."
"Yes."
"Would that authority automatically end when Dad died?"
"It should have."
"Should."
"Rebecca, stop."
I took the phone from her hand.
"Grant, could Julian have kept using Mercer after Charles died?"
"Not legally without authorization."
"That's still not an answer."
"No."
His voice hardened.
"He should not have been able to."
"But maybe he did."
"Maybe."
The word no longer sounded cautious.
It sounded dangerous.
"How much money went through Mercer?"
"I don't know."
"Millions?"
"Potentially."
Rebecca covered her mouth.
I looked again at the notebook.
The numbers I had assumed were random suddenly seemed less random.
One transfer showed 420.
Another showed 315.
Another 780.
No commas.
No dollar signs.
"Could Julian have been moving money from Mercer into accounts connected to me?"
"Why would he?"
"I don't know."
"Do you have brokerage accounts?"
"Only one."
"Retirement?"
"Through work."
"Any old LLCs?"
"No."
"Business entities?"
"No."
"Trusts?"
"Not that I know of."
Grant went silent.
Then he said, "Run your name through the secretary of state's business search."
Rebecca looked at me.
I was already opening my laptop.
"What state?"
"Start with yours."
The state registry loaded slowly.
My fingers shook as I typed my name.
Sloan Vance returned three results.
One was a nonprofit board I had served on years earlier.
The second was unfamiliar.
SJV Property Services LLC.
Registered six years ago.
Status active.
The third made my stomach drop.
Mercer Coastal Management LLC.
Registered four years ago.
Organizer: Julian Vance.
Member: Sloan Vance.
Address: our home.
I stopped breathing.
Rebecca leaned over my shoulder.
"Oh, God."
Grant heard her.
"What?"
I read the company name aloud.
The line went quiet.
Then Grant said, "Take screenshots."
"I am."
"Open the filings."
I clicked.
Annual reports appeared year after year.
My name was on all of them.
My signature was too.
Except it wasn't.
The same wrong loop.
The same careful imitation.
"Those aren't mine."
My voice sounded distant.
"How many?"
Rebecca asked.
"All of them."
Grant said, "Save every document."
I downloaded the filings.
One listed Mercer Coastal Management as holding residential property.
"Property?"
I whispered.
Rebecca leaned closer.
"Where?"
The filing gave no address.
Grant said, "Check county records."
"Which county?"
"Registered agent address might tell you."
The agent was a law office in Hilton Head.
Rebecca typed the company name into a property search on her phone.
Several seconds passed.
Then she stopped.
"What?"
I asked.
She did not answer.
"Rebecca."
She turned the screen toward me.
A property record showed a three-bedroom townhouse less than two miles from the Vance beach estate.
Owner: Mercer Coastal Management LLC.
Purchase date: four years earlier.
Purchase price: $684,000.
No mortgage listed.
I stared at it.
Julian had bought property in a company carrying my name.
With money from somewhere.
And had never told me.
"Who lives there?"
I asked.
Rebecca searched the address.
A rental listing appeared.
The townhouse had not been rented in at least three years.
Then an old social media photo loaded from a neighborhood association page.
It showed a block party beside a pool.
In the background, near a grill, Julian stood with a woman I had never seen.
His arm rested around her shoulders.
A little boy stood in front of them holding a red plastic cup.
The photo was dated two summers ago.
My stomach twisted.
Rebecca immediately said, "Don't jump."
"I can see him."
"I know."
"His arm is around her."
"I know."
"Who is she?"
Rebecca enlarged the image.
"I don't recognize her."
Grant said, "What are you looking at?"
I could not answer.
The betrayal had changed shape too many times in one day.
Letters.
Money.
Forged signatures.
Property.
Now a woman.
I hated myself for how quickly my mind constructed an entire second family.
Julian eating breakfast there.
Julian buying cereal.
Julian remembering that boy's birthday while forgetting Leo's.
Then I saw something else in the photograph.
The boy was wearing a Vance Family Beach Week shirt.
The same dark blue shirts Eleanor ordered every year.
I had seen them in Julian's vacation pictures.
On the front was a white outline of the South Carolina coast.
On the sleeve was a year.
Two years ago.
Rebecca saw it too.
"That child was at the family gathering."
Grant stopped speaking.
I looked at the woman's face.
Then at Julian.
Then at the boy.
"Grant."
Nothing.
"Who is she?"
His answer came slowly.
"Her name is Maren Mercer."
The last name made my skin go cold.
"Mercer?"
"Yes."
Rebecca stared at the phone.
"Who is she?"
Grant exhaled.
"Charles's former assistant."
"And the boy?"
Another silence.
"Grant."
"I don't know."
Rebecca's voice became sharp.
"Do not lie now."
"I'm not."
"Then why is she at family beach week?"
"Because Mom invited her."
"Why?"
Grant hesitated.
"Charles took care of Maren after her mother died."
"What does that mean?"
"Financially."
"Why?"
"I don't know."
Rebecca gave a bitter laugh.
"Apparently none of us knew anything."
I kept staring at the photograph.
Julian's hand rested comfortably on Maren's shoulder.
Not romantic.
Maybe.
Maybe not.
I no longer trusted my ability to interpret any gesture involving him.
"Was Julian involved with her?"
I asked.
"I never heard that."
"Did Charles?"
"I don't know."
"Did Eleanor?"
"No idea."
"Then why does Julian own a townhouse through a company called Mercer Coastal Management?"
Grant stopped breathing for a second.
"Send me that filing."
I did.
There was a long silence while he opened it.
Then I heard Eleanor's voice in the background.
Not words at first.
Just a startled question.
Grant said, "Mom, hold on."
Her voice rose.
Then Grant came back.
"Sloan."
"What?"
"Mom says she knows that property."
My chest tightened.
"How?"
"She says Charles bought it."
"Charles died seven years ago."
"I know."
"The property was purchased four years ago."
"I know."
"Then how did Charles buy it?"
Grant was silent.
Eleanor's voice came through clearly now.
"Because he paid for it before he died."
May you like
Nobody spoke.
She had taken Grant's phone.
