Chapter 5 - The Snake Cornered
Nora stared at the glowing monitor, her chest heaving as if she were drowning.
The video looped continuously on the screen: her face, cold and calculating, tipping the silver vial into the porcelain cup. The evidence was absolute, undeniable, and devastating.
“Ethan...” Nora gasped, falling from her chair onto her knees, reaching frantically across the mahogany desk to grab his hand. “Ethan, please! He made me do it! Julian threatened me! He said he would kill me if I didn't give him the money!”
Ethan pulled his hand back as if she were covered in plague, his eyes cold and unmoving.
“Save it for the judge, Nora.”
“No! You don't understand!” Nora wept, her tears finally real—tears of sheer, unadulterated terror. “Julian is a psychopath! He killed Clara! He gave her the wrong infusions during her treatment! He slowed down her recovery on purpose so she would die!”
The room seemed to drop twenty degrees in an instant.
Ethan froze. The air in his lungs turned to ice. He stood up slowly, leaning over the desk until his face was inches from Nora’s trembling, pale forehead.
“What did you just say?” Ethan’s voice was barely a whisper, but it carried the weight of a mountain.
Nora realized what she had blurted out in her panic. She clapped her hands over her mouth, her eyes wild with regret.
“Tell me,” Ethan growled, grabbing her by the collar of her silk blouse and pulling her up until she was forced to look him in the eye. “Did Mercer murder my wife?!”
“I—I don't know for sure!” Nora sobbed, her hands clutching his wrists. “I just overheard him on the phone three years ago! He said... he said Clara’s immune system was too strong, so he adjusted her dosage! He needed her dead so you would be vulnerable! So you would look for comfort!”
Ethan let go of her collar so suddenly she stumbled back onto the carpet, clutching her throat.
Clara hadn't lost her fight to cancer. She had been systematically assassinated over six months by the very doctor Ethan had paid millions to save her.
A dark, terrifying rage surged through Ethan’s veins, but he forced it down, clamping it shut behind a wall of pure iron discipline. If he killed Nora now with his bare hands, she would win. Mercer would win. Lily would be left an orphan.
“Marcus!” Ethan roared.
The heavy oak doors flew open immediately. Marcus and two armed security personnel stepped into the room.
“Take her,” Ethan commanded, pointing at Nora. “Lock her in the master holding room upstairs. Strip her of her phone, her watch, and any jewelry. If she breathes too loud, gag her.”
“You can’t do this!” Nora shrieked as the guards grabbed her under the arms, dragging her toward the door. “Ethan! Please! I can help you put Julian away! You need me!”
“I don't need you for anything, Nora,” Ethan said without looking back. “You’ve already given me everything I need to put you both in maximum security for the rest of your natural lives.”
The heavy doors slammed shut, cutting off Nora’s hysterical wails.
Ethan turned to Marcus. “Is the wiretap on Mercer’s private phone line active?”
“Active and recording,” Marcus confirmed. “Our cybersecurity team intercepted an encrypted signal sent from Mercer’s office twenty minutes ago. He’s getting nervous. He expected Nora to call him by noon to confirm your death.”
“Good,” Ethan said, walking toward his desk and picking up his personal cell phone. “Then let's give him the confirmation he’s waiting for.”
Ethan dialed Nora’s personal number—the secondary burner phone Marcus’s team had retrieved from her purse.
He pressed speakerphone.
The call rang once. Twice.
On the third ring, a smooth, cultured male voice answered.
“Nora?” Dr. Julian Mercer’s voice came through the speaker, crisp and anxious. “Why haven't you checked in? Is it done? Is Vance dead?”
Ethan took a deep breath, matching Nora’s frantic, breathless tone using a real-time digital voice modulation app Marcus handed him.
“Julian...” Ethan spoke through the modulator, perfectly mimicking Nora’s frantic voice. “It’s done. He drank it. He’s dead.”
On the other end of the line, Mercer let out a long, shuddering sigh of relief.
“Thank God,” Mercer laughed—a cold, sickening sound. “Did he suspect anything?”
“No,” Ethan modulated. “He collapsed in the dining room. The paramedics are on their way now. But Julian... the police are going to look at the estate records. Where are we meeting with the transfer papers?”
“Don't panic, my sweet,” Mercer said smoothly. “Bring his private ledger and his master security fob to my private lab at the waterfront warehouse by 8:00 PM tonight. Once I have the encryption keys to his off-shore accounts, we’ll catch a private charter flight to Zurich before the autopsy report is even printed.”
“I’ll be there,” Ethan modulated softly.
“Good girl,” Mercer said. “And Nora? Make sure you bring the little girl. We can’t leave any loose ends in Boston.”
The line went dead.
Ethan set the phone down on the desk. His hands were completely steady now.
He looked at Marcus. “He wants my daughter.”
May you like
Marcus racked the slide of his Glock 19 with a heavy, lethal click.
“He’s not getting your daughter, Ethan,” Marcus said flatly. “He’s getting a federal raid.”
