Chapter 7
I brought Vincent to Mercer Market that night.
Not the estate.
The market.
I wanted him to see where Lily had stood with $11.40.
He arrived irritated.
“Daniel, whatever this is, it could have waited.”
I placed the crumpled bills on the checkout counter.
He frowned.
“What am I looking at?”
“Eleven dollars and forty cents.”
He stared.
“Should that mean something?”
I almost laughed.
“To you? Apparently not.”
Then Lily stepped out from behind Marco.
Vincent froze.
Tiny reaction.
Enough.
“You know her.”
“No.”
Wrong.
Too quick.
I held up the old photograph Sarah showed me.
Vincent’s face changed.
“Where did you get that?”
I leaned closer.
“You just told me you don’t know Lily.”
Silence.
He looked toward Marco.
Then at me.
“Sarah is unstable.”
Of course.
The oldest trick in every powerful family.
Woman refuses silence.
Call her unstable.
“She says she’s my sister.”
Vincent’s jaw tightened.
“She says a lot.”
“Was my father hers?”
No answer.
“Vincent.”
He sighed.
“Yes.”
Lily looked at me.
I kept my eyes on him.
“Why was I never told?”
“Because your father made a mistake.”
My face hardened.
“Sarah was the mistake?”
“That’s not what I meant.”
“It’s exactly what you meant.”
Vincent lowered his voice.
“Your father had an affair. Sarah was born. Frank Carter agreed to raise her. Everyone moved on.”
“Sarah didn’t.”
He rolled his eyes.
“She had a home.”
“She had a lie.”
“Sometimes that’s kinder.”
I stared.
There it was.
A man deciding another person’s truth was inconvenient enough to remove.
Then I asked:
“Why did you threaten her children?”
His expression changed.
Not much.
Enough.
Lily saw it.
So did I.
May you like
Vincent had spent decades convincing everyone he protected the Mercer family.
Now a five-year-old was standing in front of him as proof that what he really protected was his place inside it.
