Chapter 8 - SOMEONE CAME THROUGH THE WINDOW
Julian moved before I did.
“Stay here.”
He ran toward the kitchen.
I ignored him.
I grabbed my phone, took Noah, and raced toward the stairs.
“Girls!”
Sophie appeared at the top.
Her eyes were huge.
“Mommy?”
“Get your sisters into Grandma’s bedroom and lock the door.”
“What happened?”
“Now, Sophie.”
She ran.
Mom came out behind her.
“What was that?”
“Window. Call 911.”
Mom’s face changed immediately.
I pushed Noah into her arms.
“Take him.”
“No.”
“Mom.”
“I am not letting you go downstairs if someone—”
“Then stay with the kids.”
Another sound came from the kitchen.
A door slammed.
I ran halfway down.
Julian shouted, “Natalie, stay upstairs!”
I stopped.
For once, I listened.
Police arrived in six minutes.
They found Julian standing in the backyard.
Alone.
Whoever had broken the window was gone.
The kitchen looked as though someone had searched it.
One cabinet open.
A drawer pulled out.
Mom’s laptop missing.
My purse untouched.
The television untouched.
Silverware untouched.
And then I realized something.
My coat.
The flash drive Julian had given me was in its pocket.
I ran toward the hook beside the kitchen.
The coat was gone.
I turned toward Julian.
He understood immediately.
“No.”
“What was on that drive?”
“Everything.”
“You made copies.”
Silence.
“Julian.”
He looked sick.
“No.”
Police photographed the damage.
One officer asked whether we knew anyone who might want specific documents.
Julian said no.
I said, “Possibly.”
His eyes snapped toward me.
I told the officer about the financial dispute in general terms.
Not every detail.
Enough.
Julian looked furious.
After the police left, we stood in Mom’s kitchen surrounded by glass.
“You shouldn’t have said that.”
“I’m done protecting secrets I didn’t create.”
“If you start throwing accusations around—”
“Someone broke into my mother’s house thirty minutes after you gave me financial evidence.”
“I know what it looks like.”
“What does it look like?”
He didn’t answer.
I did.
“It looks like someone knew about the drive.”
“Nobody did.”
“Your mother?”
“I didn’t tell her.”
“Marcus?”
“I told you I didn’t send him.”
I stared at Julian.
Then another possibility occurred to me.
“You.”
His face changed.
“What?”
“Maybe there was nothing useful on the drive.”
“You think I staged this?”
“I don’t know what to think.”
He looked genuinely wounded.
“Jesus, Natalie.”
“What exactly have you done to earn trust this week?”
That silenced him.
Mom walked into the room.
“The girls are scared.”
My anger vanished.
I went upstairs.
That night, all four girls slept in Mom’s bedroom.
I lay beside them while Noah slept in a portable bassinet.
At two in the morning, Sophie whispered, “Mommy?”
“I’m awake.”
“Are you and Daddy getting divorced?”
The question pierced straight through me.
I rolled toward her.
“I don’t know.”
She nodded as though she had expected that.
“Did we do something?”
“No.”
“Because he wanted Noah?”
My chest tightened.
“Why would you ask that?”
She looked toward her sleeping sisters.
“Daddy said things were going to be different when the boy came.”
“When?”
“Before Noah was born.”
I felt suddenly cold.
“What things?”
“He said we might get a new house.”
“Okay.”
“And maybe new schools.”
My heart started pounding.
“What else?”
Sophie hesitated.
“Daddy told Grandma Evelyn that once the papers were done, she could stop worrying about ‘all the little shares.’”
I closed my eyes.
Children hear everything.
Adults just assume they don’t understand.
“Sophie, did Daddy ever talk about money with you?”
“No.”
“Did Grandma Evelyn?”
She frowned.
“She told me I should enjoy being the oldest while it lasted.”
My stomach twisted.
“What did she mean?”
“I asked. She said boys come first in Mercer families.”
I kissed Sophie’s forehead.
“That is not true in this family.”
She looked at me.
“Really?”
“Really.”
I waited until she fell asleep.
Then I went downstairs.
Julian was still there, sitting alone in the kitchen after cleaning the broken glass.
“Why haven’t you left?”
He looked up.
“Because whoever did that might come back.”
“You think you get to protect us now?”
His face tightened.
“I’m still their father.”
I sat across from him.
“What did you mean when you told the girls things would change after Noah?”
He frowned.
“Sophie told me.”
His shoulders dropped.
“I was planning to move.”
“Where?”
“The Mercer estate.”
I stared.
Evelyn’s house was not a house.
It was an eleven-bedroom stone mansion outside the city on forty acres.
“You were planning to move all of us there?”
“Yes.”
“Without asking me?”
“I was going to tell you.”
I laughed bitterly.
“That sentence should be engraved on your tombstone.”
He rubbed his face.
“The company headquarters is closer.”
“And?”
“And Mother wanted the children raised there.”
“There it is.”
His eyes sharpened.
“What?”
“Your mother wanted.”
“Natalie—”
“No. I want to understand.”
I leaned forward.
“Why does Evelyn have so much control over you?”
He didn’t answer.
“Is it money?”
“No.”
“Fear?”
His eyes shifted.
That was the answer.
“Fear of what?”
Julian stared at the table.
“When I was sixteen, Caroline disappeared.”
“She left.”
“That’s what I know now.”
My skin prickled.
“What did you think then?”
“That she was sick.”
“What?”
“Mother said Caroline had a breakdown. Said she was using drugs. Said she became violent.”
“Was any of that true?”
“I don’t know.”
I remembered Caroline’s records.
Julian continued.
“My father barely spoke for months. Mother told me Caroline had tried to destroy him.”
“So you believed her.”
“I was sixteen.”
“And later?”
“I stopped asking.”
That sentence carried more shame than anything else he had said.
“Why?”
“Because every time I did, Mother reminded me that I was the child who stayed.”
I understood.
Not excused.
Understood.
Evelyn had built Julian’s identity around loyalty.
And loyalty meant obedience.
“Caroline said your mother hired Marcus against her.”
Julian’s eyes darkened.
“I believe her.”
“You do?”
“After tonight, yes.”
I stared.
“Then help us.”
He looked at me.
“Really help us. No more half-truths.”
He sat silently for a long time.
Finally, he took out his phone.
“There may be another copy.”
“Of the financial records?”
“Yes.”
“Where?”
“Dad kept a private storage unit.”
“Your father died four years ago.”
“I maintained the payments.”
“Why?”
“Because Mother tried to make me empty it after the funeral.”
My pulse quickened.
“And you didn’t?”
“No.”
“Where is it?”
“North side.”
I stood.
“We go tomorrow.”
Julian looked toward the stairs.
“If we find what I think is there, everything changes.”
“Good.”
“No, Natalie.”
He looked genuinely afraid.
“You don’t understand.”
“What?”
“My father kept records on everybody.”
“Including Evelyn?”
“Yes.”
“Then especially Evelyn.”
Julian shook his head.
“And maybe me.”
The next morning, Rachel met us at the storage facility.
Caroline came too.
Julian hated that.
But he didn’t argue.
The manager unlocked a climate-controlled unit registered under Robert Mercer’s estate.
Inside were boxes.
Dozens.
Legal files.
Accounting records.
Old computers.
Photographs.
Julian found a black metal cabinet at the back.
Locked.
He tried a key from his father’s ring.
It opened.
Inside were six binders.
Caroline reached for the one marked E.M.
Evelyn Mercer.
She opened it.
The first pages were financial records.
The next were private investigator reports.
Then medical documents.
Caroline stopped turning pages.
Her face went white.
“What?”
She looked at Julian.
Then at me.
“Oh my God.”
I stepped closer.
“What is it?”
She handed me a document.
It was twenty-seven years old.
A laboratory report.
Paternity testing.
Three names.
Robert Mercer.
Caroline Mercer.
And a third name I recognized immediately.
Julian Mercer.
At the bottom, one sentence had been underlined in red.
Probability of paternity: 0.00%.
I stared at Julian.
He stared back.
Neither of us understood.
May you like
Then Caroline whispered the truth before either of us could say it.
“Julian… Robert wasn’t your father.”
