Chapter 8
Vittorio hit Mercer once.
Not hard enough to end the conversation.
Hard enough to erase the smile.
“No.”
I surprised everyone.
Vittorio stopped.
I looked at Mercer.
“Let him talk.”
He touched his lip.
“You sound like Ethan.”
“I don't care.”
“You will.”
Dad wouldn't look at him.
That told me almost as much as the recordings.
I asked:
“Why Noah?”
Mercer glanced at Vittorio.
“Because Ethan was building something.”
“An army?”
He laughed.
“No.”
“Then what?”
“A way out.”
Vittorio's face stayed still.
Mercer continued.
“Ethan spent years helping people disappear from obligations they no longer wanted.”
I understood.
People in this world who wanted to leave.
Drivers.
Associates.
Families.
Men who owed Vittorio.
Ethan had quietly helped them start elsewhere.
Not an empire.
An exit.
Mercer smiled faintly.
“People trusted him.”
“And now he's dead.”
“Yes.”
I looked at Noah.
“You thought they would trust his son?”
“Not today.”
“Then why take him now?”
“Because children grow.”
My skin crawled.
“And whoever raised him could decide what Ethan's name became.”
Vittorio's jaw tightened.
Mercer had not wanted Noah because of inheritance.
He wanted something worse.
A symbol.
A living piece of Ethan he could shape.
“Where were you taking him?”
Mercer shrugged.
“Somewhere safe.”
“From whom?”
“Everyone.”
Dad finally spoke.
“You said he would be protected.”
Mercer looked at him.
“I told you what you needed to hear.”
My father flinched.
I almost laughed.
The exact strategy Dad had used on me my entire life.
Now someone had used it on him.
Mark stared at Mercer.
“What about the other baby?”
Mercer's face changed.
Only slightly.
Enough.
“He bought us time.”
My stomach turned.
“He?”
“Another newborn.”
I hated the way he said it.
Like a tool.
A piece on a board.
“And after the switch?”
Mercer didn't answer.
Vittorio stepped forward.
I raised one hand again.
“Did you kill Ethan?”
Mercer looked at me.
“No.”
“Did you arrange the crash?”
“No.”
“Did you know it would happen?”
Pause.
There.
His first real mistake.
I felt cold everywhere.
“You knew.”
“I knew certain people had decided Ethan had become a problem.”
“Who?”
He smiled.
“That answer costs more than you have.”
Vittorio laughed once.
Mercer's smile faded.
Then I remembered the missing envelope.
The diaper bag.
Ethan had always duplicated everything.
Keys.
Passcodes.
Even grocery lists.
I pulled the bag toward me.
Ran my fingers along the lining.
There.
A second seam.
Hidden zipper.
Inside was a small black memory card.
Mercer stopped breathing.
So did Dad.
I held it between two fingers.
“You were looking for this.”
No answer.
Good.
That was an answer.
Vittorio took it carefully.
Samuel brought a secure reader.
The first file opened.
Not video.
Audio.
Ethan's voice.
Dated six days before his death.
“If this is being played, Mercer moved sooner than I expected.”
Mercer's face changed.
For the first time all night, he looked afraid.
Ethan continued.
“And if Dad is hearing this…”
May you like
Vittorio closed his eyes.
“…I'm sorry I didn't tell you how bad it was.”
