Chapter 8: Caroline Mercer’s Last Move
Caroline Mercer disappeared before detectives reached her Manhattan apartment.
Her phone was abandoned in a taxi.
Her bank accounts showed no recent withdrawals.
She seemed to have vanished without preparation.
But Nathan knew better.
Caroline had spent nearly two decades preparing.
By midday, anonymous documents began reaching news organizations.
They accused Nathan of hiding evidence from his brother’s fatal crash, bribing investigators and using his wealth to imprison his innocent wife.
Photographs of police cars outside Harrington Manor spread across every network.
The company’s stock dropped eleven percent before the market closed.
Board members demanded an emergency meeting.
Nathan attended remotely from a private hospital conference room.
On the screen, twelve executives stared back at him.
Board Chairman Richard Cole spoke first.
“Nathan, we need you to step aside temporarily.”
“My wife abused my children in my home.”
“We understand this is personal.”
“No,” Nathan said. “You understand it as a public-relations crisis.”
Richard removed his glasses.
“The company employs eighty thousand people. We have responsibilities beyond your family.”
Nathan looked through the conference-room window.
Oliver was helping Noah build a tower from paper cups. Emma sat nearby, watching her brothers with the first small smile Nathan had seen since the basement.
“I agree,” Nathan said.
Richard relaxed.
“So you’ll take a leave?”
“No. I’ll place my voting shares into an independent trust for ninety days. You can manage operations without using my children as an excuse to push me out permanently.”
Several directors shifted uncomfortably.
Nathan continued.
“I will also authorize an outside investigation into every claim released today.”
Richard frowned.
“That could expose the company.”
“If there is wrongdoing, it should be exposed.”
Nathan ended the call.
His chief of staff, Grace Holloway, stood near the wall.
“That was either very brave or very dangerous,” she said.
“Probably both.”
Grace handed him a tablet.
“Our cybersecurity team traced one of the leaks to a private communications company in Virginia.”
“Caroline?”
“Someone using her credentials.”
The company rented secure data rooms to corporate clients. Caroline had uploaded thousands of files there.
Among them were edited basement videos.
In the altered footage, Victoria appeared to be comforting the children after supposed emotional outbursts. Time stamps had been changed. Audio had been removed.
“She’s creating an alternate story,” Nathan said.
Grace nodded.
“And it’s working. Several commentators are suggesting the basement was a therapy room.”
Nathan felt anger rising.
“Release nothing involving the children.”
“Then the public sees only Caroline’s version.”
“My children have already been watched enough.”
Grace looked at him with respect.
“What do we release?”
Nathan thought for a moment.
“The audio of Victoria and Caroline discussing the fabricated blood test from Michael’s crash. No images of the children. No medical information.”
Before Grace could respond, Nathan’s phone rang.
Detective Morales.
“We found Caroline,” she said.
“Where?”
“At your children’s school.”
Nathan stood so quickly that his chair struck the wall.
May you like
“What is she doing there?”
“She took Emma’s teacher hostage.”
