Chapter 2: The Brother Behind the Lie
At nine the next morning, I walked into Beatrix Shaw's office carrying the cream invitation.
She was already waiting.
Her office overlooked downtown Chicago, where the morning traffic crawled between glass towers. A silver coffee pot sat untouched on her desk. Three thick folders were arranged beside her laptop.
Beatrix was fifty-two, sharp-eyed, and incapable of wasting words.
She pointed to the chair opposite her.
"Sit down, Evelyn.""
I placed the invitation on the desk.
"Before we discuss the money, I want to know whether the paternity results are legally usable.""
"They can be, provided we authenticate the laboratory records and establish how the samples were collected.""
"Camille volunteered the test?""
"That's what the paperwork indicates.""
Beatrix opened the first folder.
"The test was ordered after Roland questioned the pregnancy timeline.""
I frowned.
"Why would he question it?""
"Because the pregnancy was announced before their wedding, and according to the records, Roland had already undergone fertility testing.""
I leaned forward.
"What did those tests show?""
Beatrix slid a medical report across the desk.
It was dated eight years earlier.
Roland's name appeared at the top.
Below it were the words that had changed everything.
Congenital azoospermia. No sperm detected.
I felt my stomach tighten.
"Eight years?""
"Yes.""
"He knew?""
Beatrix folded her hands.
"According to the doctor's notes, he was counseled about the diagnosis. He was advised to discuss assisted reproductive options with his partner.""
I stared at the paper.
For six years, Roland had watched me take injections, endure procedures, and blame myself for something he knew was not my fault.
I remembered the night he had thrown a negative pregnancy test into the bathroom trash.
"Maybe you should stop obsessing over it," he had said.
I remembered crying in the shower because I didn't want him to hear me.
Now I understood.
"Did he ever tell me?"" I asked.
"No.""
"Did the doctor contact me?""
"No. Roland was the patient, and the records were confidential.""
I stood and walked toward the window.
Outside, a delivery truck stopped at the curb.
People crossed the street carrying coffee and briefcases.
Ordinary lives.
I wondered how many women were walking around believing they were broken because the men they loved had lied to them.
"Who paid for the tests?"" I asked.
Beatrix turned another page.
"Mercer Holdings.""
I looked back.
"What?""
"The company's executive medical benefits account covered the original consultation. But that's not the most interesting part.""
She opened the second folder.
The $2.4 million transfer was printed across the top of a transaction report.
It had been sent from a subsidiary account belonging to Mercer Holdings to a private consulting company called Asterion Advisory.
The transfer date was six weeks before Camille announced her pregnancy.
"Who owns Asterion?"" I asked.
Beatrix tapped the page.
"Alistair Mercer.""
I sat down again.
"His own company?""
"Registered in Delaware. The beneficial ownership documents identify Alistair as the controlling party.""
"Why was Mercer Holdings paying him?""
"That's what we're investigating.""
She placed another document in front of me.
It was a consulting agreement.
The signature at the bottom belonged to Roland.
I recognized it immediately.
I had seen that signature on hundreds of contracts when I worked for the company.
"What's the stated purpose?"" I asked.
"Strategic acquisition advisory services.""
I read the agreement.
There was no meaningful description of the work. No deliverables. No verifiable milestones.
Just a fee of $2.4 million.
"That's not consulting," I said.
"No. It looks like a related-party transaction that may have been concealed from the board.""
I rubbed my forehead.
"Alistair has always been Roland's favorite.""
"That may be relevant.""
I remembered Alistair from family dinners.
He was charming, polished, and almost always standing slightly behind his older brother.
Roland used to introduce him as the genius of the family.
But when the company needed someone to negotiate its major contracts, it was me who did the work.
I had spent nine years building Mercer Holdings' commercial division.
I negotiated supplier agreements, rescued two failed acquisitions, and created the contract management system that eventually became the backbone of the company.
Roland received the public recognition.
I received a corner office and the promise that we were building something together.
Until he decided I was no longer useful.
"Why would Alistair receive the money?"" I asked.
Beatrix closed the folder.
"Possibly because Roland wanted to move company assets somewhere he controlled. Or because Alistair was providing something in return.""
I looked at the DNA report.
"Something like keeping a secret?""
"Perhaps.""
The room became very quiet.
Then my phone rang.
Roland.
I stared at his name.
Beatrix raised an eyebrow.
"Answer it. Put him on speaker.""
I accepted the call.
"Hello, Roland.""
His voice was smooth and impatient.
"Evelyn. I heard you're planning to attend Camille's shower.""
"That's correct.""
A short silence followed.
"I don't think that's a good idea.""
"Why not?""
"Camille is emotional right now. We don't want unnecessary tension.""
I glanced at Beatrix.
"She invited me.""
"She was being polite.""
"She wrote me a personal message.""
Roland sighed.
"Look, I know you're still upset about everything, but you need to move on. Camille and I are starting a family.""
I almost laughed.
"Congratulations.""
"Don't make this difficult.""
"Then don't call me.""
His voice hardened.
"One more thing. I heard you've been asking questions about Mercer Holdings.""
I went still.
"Who told you that?""
"That doesn't matter. Stay away from company business. You signed the settlement.""
"I signed a divorce agreement, Roland. Not a gag order.""
"Be careful, Evelyn. You don't want to start something you can't finish.""
I looked at the transfer report.
"Funny. I was about to tell you the same thing.""
I ended the call.
Beatrix slowly removed her glasses.
"He's nervous.""
"He knows about the audit.""
"Or he knows someone has been talking.""
I picked up the financial statement.
"Can you trace the remaining transfers?""
"I'm already working on it.""
"Then I want certified copies of every document. Medical records, DNA results, banking records, and the original Mercer Holdings contracts.""
Beatrix nodded.
"There's one more thing you should know.""
She opened a document on her computer.
It was a board resolution dated two months before my divorce.
The resolution authorized the transfer of several commercial contracts to a new subsidiary.
The approval section contained two signatures.
Roland Mercer.
Alistair Mercer.
And beneath them was a third line.
My name.
Evelyn Mercer.
Except I had never signed it.
I leaned closer.
The signature looked almost perfect.
Almost.
"That's forged," I whispered.
Beatrix nodded.
"And the contracts transferred under that resolution generated more than $8 million in annual revenue.""
I stared at the screen.
The brothers hadn't simply lied about the baby.
They had used my name to move company assets.
And if the documents were genuine, the fraud clause in my divorce settlement might be the least of their problems.
My phone vibrated again.
This time, the message came from an unknown number.
*Unknown:* You should stop digging into Alistair. He isn't the person you need to worry about.
A second message arrived.
*Unknown:* Ask Camille what happened the night she got pregnant.
I read it twice.
May you like
Then another message appeared.
*Unknown:* And ask why Roland paid her $500,000.
