Chapter 6 - THE MAN I MARRIED
Brendan called me at 2:13 in the morning.
I was awake.
Sleep had become something that happened to other people.
Maya was in the adjoining room.
Security recorded everything.
I answered on the fourth ring.
“Where are you?”
Brendan breathed into the phone.
“You always start with a demand.”
“I’m past pretending we’re married.”
“That’s not what I meant.”
“Then tell me where you are.”
“I’m safe.”
“I didn’t ask if you were safe.”
A pause.
Then he laughed softly.
“You sound like your father.”
I hated the way he said it.
As if he knew something about my father that I did not.
“What do you want?”
“To explain.”
“You had five years.”
“I didn’t know everything.”
“You knew enough to talk about my baby as leverage.”
“That recording is out of context.”
I closed my eyes.
“Of course it is.”
“Cassidy.”
“No.”
“Listen to me.”
“I listened to you for years.”
“I listened when you said we couldn’t afford a better apartment.”
“I listened when you told me your mother needed help with bills.”
“I listened when you said the company underpaid you.”
“I listened when you called me ungrateful because I questioned a fifty-thousand-dollar watch.”
“You were stealing from me while telling me I was lucky to have you.”
Silence.
Then he said something unexpected.
“I was stealing from them.”
“Them?”
“Arden.”
I almost laughed.
“I am Arden.”
“You weren’t supposed to be.”
The words landed hard.
“What does that mean?”
He breathed slowly.
“My mother told me your father cheated our family.”
“Your grandfather tried to steal my father’s company.”
“That’s his version.”
“Documents exist.”
“Documents written by the winners.”
I could hear Vivian in him.
Not her voice.
Her mythology.
“What did she tell you?”
“That Harold Pierce built the original legal structure that made Arden possible.”
“That your grandfather promised him equity.”
“That Elias forced him out.”
“That Thomas Arden tried to correct it.”
“And you believed that entitled you to steal.”
“I believed I was taking back what was owed.”
“You bought watches.”
Brendan went quiet.
“You funded houses.”
Silence.
“You paid your girlfriend.”
“That wasn’t—”
“You turned theft into a lifestyle.”
“I made mistakes.”
“No.”
“Stealing one dollar is a mistake.”
“Building shell companies is a plan.”
His breathing became sharper.
“You hid who you were from me.”
There it was.
The accusation he had been waiting to make.
“Yes.”
“For six years.”
“Yes.”
“You let me think I was building everything.”
“You were building a career.”
“Inside your company.”
“You earned promotions at first.”
“At first.”
I did not answer.
His voice hardened.
“Did you approve them?”
“Some.”
“Were you watching me?”
“My father was.”
Silence.
Then Brendan laughed bitterly.
“So I was a test.”
“I didn’t know that.”
“You expect me to believe that?”
“I don’t care what you believe anymore.”
He breathed for several seconds.
“I loved you.”
Those words hurt more than I expected.
Not because I wanted them.
Because some part of me still remembered needing them.
“Maybe you did.”
“I did.”
“Then you became comfortable hating me.”
“That isn’t fair.”
“Fair?”
I looked at the security monitor showing the closed door.
“You let your mother pour garbage over a pregnant woman.”
“You laughed.”
“I was angry.”
“At what?”
“You came into the house like you still owned it.”
“I did own it.”
He went silent.
“I didn’t know that.”
“I know.”
That was the entire marriage in five words.
He had been kind when he thought kindness benefited him.
Cruel when he thought I had no leverage.
Then I became valuable again.
And suddenly he wanted to explain.
“Where is the Aurora folder?” I asked.
His tone changed.
“So Sabrina told you.”
“Where is it?”
“Safe.”
“You don’t understand what you have.”
“I understand enough.”
“No, Brendan.”
“You really don’t.”
The Aurora pages he carried were incomplete.
If he tried to use them, every institution involved would know the documents were compromised.
But he could sell them.
To Rebecca.
To outside investors.
To competitors.
Maybe even to foreign interests.
That possibility frightened Maya more than the financial theft.
“Who gave you those pages?” I asked.
“Marcus.”
I sat upright.
“What?”
“Months ago.”
“Why?”
“He said your father wanted me prepared.”
“That makes no sense.”
“It made sense then.”
“What exactly did Marcus give you?”
“Copies.”
“Of what?”
“The Aurora succession summary.”
“Why would he do that?”
“Because he told me I might need to protect our child if something happened to you.”
My hand moved to my stomach.
Marcus again.
Always Marcus.
Half protector.
Half betrayer.
“What did he ask in return?”
“Nothing.”
“I don’t believe you.”
“He wanted me to understand responsibility.”
“Then why did you hide the pages?”
“Because my mother found out.”
“Found out how?”
“She always finds out.”
That answer sounded like a frightened child.
For a moment I saw Brendan at twenty-eight.
Trying to impress Vivian.
Trying to escape her.
Trying to become richer than everyone who had ever made him feel small.
Then I remembered Sabrina.
The recordings.
The theft.
Sympathy vanished.
“Where is Vivian?”
“I don’t know.”
That was possible.
Vivian had disappeared from the hotel Arden provided after the estate eviction.
Her attorney claimed she was with friends.
Security disagreed.
“Where is Rebecca?”
“I don’t know.”
“Marcus?”
“No.”
“Then what exactly do you know?”
A long silence.
“I know who arranged our first meeting.”
My heart stopped.
“Say it.”
“My mother.”
I closed my eyes.
There it was.
The thing I had feared.
“How?”
“She knew you went to that bookstore on Saturdays.”
“How did she know?”
“Harold kept files on the Arden family.”
“Harold was dead by then.”
“My mother kept them.”
My skin crawled.
“She sent you to meet me.”
“Yes.”
“And you agreed.”
“Yes.”
I could not speak.
He hurried.
“But I didn’t expect to love you.”
I laughed once.
The sound came out broken.
“Do you know how disgusting that sounds?”
“I was twenty-seven.”
“You were not a child.”
“I thought it was about getting a job.”
“You targeted me.”
“I met you.”
“You targeted me.”
“Yes.”
The word finally came.
Clean.
Ugly.
True.
I looked toward the dark window.
The city lights blurred.
“Did you marry me for Arden?”
“No.”
“How can I believe that?”
“You can’t.”
At least he understood one thing.
“I need the Aurora folder.”
“I need protection.”
“From whom?”
“My mother.”
Interesting.
“And Rebecca.”
“Why?”
“Because they think I know where Thomas is.”
I froze.
“Thomas Arden?”
“Yes.”
“Do you?”
“No.”
“But Marcus thinks he might be alive.”
“How do you know that?”
“My mother has spent twenty years looking for him.”
The room went silent.
Maya had stepped into the doorway.
She heard it too.
“Why?” I asked.
“Because Thomas promised Harold something.”
“What?”
Brendan’s voice dropped.
“Control of Aurora.”
My mind raced.
Aurora Strategic Systems had been founded fourteen years ago.
Thomas had supposedly died decades earlier.
Unless the company was built from something older.
Something Thomas helped create.
“Cassidy, I want a deal.”
“No.”
“You don’t even know what I’m offering.”
“You’re offering stolen information in exchange for protection from your co-conspirators.”
“I’m offering the truth.”
“You’re late.”
“Your father lied to you too.”
That angered me.
“Do not use him to excuse yourself.”
“I’m not.”
“Then stop.”
“He knew Thomas was alive.”
“You don’t know that.”
“I have the letter.”
My heart beat harder.
“My father’s letter?”
“Yes.”
“Read it.”
“No.”
“Brendan.”
“You give me protection first.”
I looked at Maya.
She shook her head.
Not because protection was impossible.
Because Brendan was still bargaining.
“Where are you?”
“No.”
“Then we’re done.”
“Cassidy.”
I ended the call.
He called back twice.
I ignored him.
At 2:31, he sent a photograph.
My father’s handwritten letter.
Only the first page.
Brendan,
You will hear stories about what belongs to the Pierce family.
Some will contain pieces of truth.
Do not confuse a piece of truth with a right to revenge.
You are not the first man Vivian has encouraged to believe he can reclaim Harold’s legacy through my daughter.
My pulse hammered.
Not the first man.
The torn fragment made sense.
There had been someone before Brendan.
Someone Vivian had targeted before using her own son.
I zoomed in.
At the bottom of the photograph, one additional sentence was visible.
Ask your mother what happened to Daniel Mercer.
I had never heard the name.
Noah searched.
Nothing at first.
Then an old private university alumni record appeared.
Daniel Mercer.
Born forty-one years earlier.
Attended Yale.
Worked briefly at Arden Capital.
Disappeared from public records eighteen years ago.
And there was one photograph.
A charity gala.
Daniel stood beside a much younger Vivian Pierce.
She was smiling at him.
On Daniel’s other side stood my father.
And in the background, barely visible, was Marcus Venn.
Before Brendan, Vivian had tried this with someone else.
The next morning, Elena found the missing connection.
Daniel Mercer had not simply worked at Arden.
He had dated me.
Or more accurately, he had been around me when I was too young to remember.
I was eleven.
He was twenty-three.
Not romantically.
He had worked as a junior aide in my father’s office and frequently accompanied the family on trips.
Then one day he vanished.
My father erased his access.
His personnel record was sealed.
Two months later, Vivian received a two-million-dollar payment through an overseas entity.
“From Daniel?” I asked.
“No.”
“From whom?”
Elena turned the screen.
Thomas Arden.
I stared at the name.
Then Maya entered.
“We found Marcus.”
I stood.
“Alive?”
“Yes.”
“And Rebecca?”
“No.”
“Where is he?”
“Hospital outside Albany.”
“What happened?”
“He was found beside a rural road.”
“Did he say who attacked him?”
Maya hesitated.
“He says it was not Rebecca.”
“Then who?”
“Marcus says Rebecca was trying to help him.”
I stared.
“What?”
“He says someone else was at Fox Lantern.”
“Who?”
Maya looked directly at me.
“Daniel Mercer.”
May you like
Eighteen years after disappearing, the first man Vivian Pierce had allegedly used against my family had returned.
And according to Marcus, he was the person who took the succession ledger.
