Chapter 19: The Secret of Zurich
Margaret stared at the single letter “H” scrawled at the bottom of the parchment, her mind racing through every genealogical record, every family tree, and every hidden file she had uncovered over the past month.
“...why your mother never wanted you to find me.”
The words echoed in the silent penthouse like a gunshot. For thirty years, she had believed her mother, Rebecca Mercer, was an innocent victim of a tragic fire and a greedy husband. Her grandfather, Jonathan, had spent decades mourning his daughter as a saint destroyed by monsters.
If this letter was to be believed... Rebecca hadn't just been hiding from Richard Whitmore. She had been hiding from someone else, too.
Margaret picked up her smartphone and immediately dialed her grandfather’s private residence line. It rang three times before an elderly butler answered, his voice breathless and panicked.
“Ms. Mercer-Hale? Thank god you called,” the butler stammered, the background noise behind him filled with chaotic shouts and the sound of breaking glass.
“What’s wrong?” Margaret demanded, standing up from her desk so fast her chair rolled backward against the wall. “Where is my grandfather?”
“Someone breached the estate’s private security perimeter twenty minutes ago,” the butler shouted over the phone as a loud crash echoed through the line. “Mr. Mercer went down to the East Wing study to check the ancestral vault... Ms. Mercer-Hale, you need to leave the penthouse now. You’re not safe there either—!”
The phone line went abruptly dead with a sharp, piercing screech of static.
“Grandpa!” Margaret screamed into the receiver, but the call was completely disconnected.
She didn't hesitate for a second. She grabbed the brass key from her desk, slipped the mysterious parchment letter into her inner coat pocket, and reached into the drawer for her pearl-handled revolver.
As she sprinted toward the private elevator leading down to the underground garage, the penthouse lights suddenly flickered and died, plunging the entire fifty-fifth floor into pitch-black darkness.
May you like
The emergency backup generators failed to kick in.
And from the shadows of the private hallway just outside her office doors, a slow, heavy pair of footsteps began to echo across the marble floor—coming straight toward her.
