Chapter 6 - Eleanor Came To My Hospital Room
Eleanor violated the restraining order on a Thursday.
She arrived wearing a dark wig, oversized sunglasses, and a long beige coat.
If a nurse hadn’t recognized her from the news, she might have reached my room.
Security stopped her near the elevators.
But before police arrived, she shouted my name.
“CLARA!”
Her voice echoed down the corridor.
I froze inside my room.
“CLARA, YOU UNGRATEFUL LITTLE COWARD!”
Arthur stood immediately.
“Stay here.”
“No.”
“Clara—”
“I’m done hiding from her.”
Against medical advice, I walked into the hallway.
Slowly.
My shoulder hurt.
The compression garment beneath my blouse pulled against healing skin.
But I kept walking.
Eleanor stood between two security guards.
Without her perfect hair and expensive jewelry, she seemed smaller.
Older.
Her eyes landed on the scar above my collar.
For half a second, something flashed across her face.
Not guilt.
Satisfaction.
“There she is,” Eleanor hissed. “The little martyr.”
Arthur stepped between us.
“You are violating a court order.”
“I want to speak to my daughter-in-law.”
“You tried to boil her alive.”
Eleanor smiled at him.
“Oh, Arthur. Still playing protector for a dead man’s spoiled child?”
That struck something inside me.
“My father knew, didn’t he?”
Her smile disappeared.
Arthur turned toward me.
“What?”
I stepped closer.
“You knew my father didn’t trust Julian.”
Eleanor looked away.
That was enough.
I felt cold.
“How long?”
She said nothing.
“How long did my father know?”
A security guard warned her that police were coming.
Eleanor suddenly leaned forward.
“You think your father was smarter than everyone.”
“Was he?”
“He tried to keep Julian away from you.”
Arthur’s face tightened.
“Eleanor, stop talking.”
She laughed.
“Why? You never told her?”
I looked at Arthur.
“Told me what?”
Before he could answer, Eleanor said it.
“Your precious father offered Julian five million dollars to disappear before your wedding.”
The hallway seemed to tilt.
I stared at Arthur.
“Is that true?”
His silence answered first.
“Yes.”
I couldn’t speak.
Eleanor continued, enjoying every second.
“Julian refused. Do you know why?”
“Stop,” Arthur said.
“Because my son loved winning more than he loved money.”
She looked directly at me.
“And you were the prize.”
Police arrived.
They handcuffed her.
As officers pulled her away, she twisted toward me.
“You still don’t understand, Clara!”
“What?”
Her face changed.
For the first time, I saw fear.
“Your father didn’t die believing Julian was after your money.”
The elevator doors opened.
She struggled against the officers.
“He died knowing it!”
The doors closed.
I turned toward Arthur.
He suddenly looked seventy instead of sixty-five.
“Tell me everything.”
We returned to my room.
Arthur stood at the window for nearly a minute before speaking.
“Six weeks before your wedding, your father asked me to investigate Julian.”
“Why?”
“A business associate warned him that Julian had substantial hidden debt.”
My heart pounded.
“Did you find it?”
“Some.”
“How much?”
“Approximately four million dollars at the time.”
I laughed bitterly.
“And nobody told me.”
“Your father tried.”
“No. He hinted. He asked whether I was sure. He never told me the truth.”
“He was afraid you would think he was trying to control you.”
“So he offered Julian money?”
“Yes.”
“To leave me?”
“Yes.”
The humiliation was almost unbearable.
Julian had known before our marriage that my father distrusted him.
And instead of walking away, he married me anyway.
Not despite the obstacles.
Because of them.
Arthur opened his briefcase.
“There’s something I never gave you.”
He removed an envelope.
My father’s handwriting covered the front.
For Clara, if I was right.
My hands began shaking.
“When did he write this?”
“Three months before he died.”
“Why didn’t you give it to me?”
“He instructed me not to unless Julian attempted to access protected trust assets.”
“He’s been trying for months.”
“I know.”
Pain filled Arthur’s face.
“I should have given it to you sooner.”
I opened the envelope.
Inside was a handwritten letter.
My darling Clara,
If you are reading this, then I failed to protect you without hurting you.
That sentence broke me.
I kept reading.
My father wrote that he had discovered Julian was using our relationship to attract investors.
He had boasted privately that marrying into the Mercer family would make banks treat him differently.
He had asked questions about my inheritance before proposing.
He had attempted to obtain copies of family trust documents.
My father confronted him.
Julian denied everything.
Then came the sentence that changed the entire case.
I believe Julian has access to someone inside my office.
I stopped.
“Inside Dad’s office?”
Arthur nodded.
“Did you investigate?”
“We tried.”
“Who?”
“We never proved it.”
I returned to the letter.
My father had noticed documents being moved.
Copies appearing where originals should have been.
Passwords reset.
The leak stopped shortly before his death.
“Who left the company around then?”
Arthur was already reaching for his phone.
It took Marcus two hours to reconstruct the old personnel records.
Four people had left within six months of my father’s death.
Three were easily cleared.
The fourth was a senior administrative assistant.
Her name was Margaret Sloan.
She had worked for my father for eleven years.
I remembered her.
Quiet.
Efficient.
Always kind to me.
She disappeared from corporate records shortly after resigning.
Marcus traced her through property filings.
Three weeks after leaving my father’s company, Margaret bought a $900,000 home in cash.
“Where did the money come from?” I asked.
Marcus looked grim.
“A company controlled by Eleanor.”
The leak had not been Julian.
Not directly.
It had been my father’s trusted employee.
Paid by my mother-in-law.
Then Detective Monroe entered with another discovery.
Margaret Sloan was dead.
A single-car accident two years earlier.
No witnesses.
No suspicious circumstances noted.
But investigators had reopened the file.
Because three days before Margaret died, she had mailed a package.
The recipient?
Thomas Greer.
The missing building inspector.
And whatever Margaret had sent him was important enough that federal agents were now searching every property he owned.
Forty-eight hours later, they found a locked safe behind the wall of his vacation cabin.
Inside were stacks of cash.
Fake inspection reports.
A flash drive.
And one sealed envelope.
May you like
Written across the front were two words.
MERCER INSURANCE.
