PART 2
“My mother didn’t steal that money.” I said it before either detective reached me. Nathan glanced sideways. “You’re sure?” “No.” Saying it hurt more. Detective Laura Hayes stopped beside the table. “Ms. Mercer, we’re not arresting you at this moment, but we have a complaint alleging embezzlement and identity fraud.” Grant folded his arms. “There’s nothing alleged about those statements.” I grabbed one page. “These are fabricated.” “Your signature is there.” “Digital signatures can be cloned.” Grant smirked. “Convenient.” I stepped toward him. “So is stealing my phone five minutes before the police arrive.” His smile vanished. Nathan quietly took the documents, studying the transfer codes. “Detective, give me sixty seconds.” “Mr. Blackwood—” “The routing destination on page four belongs to Sloan Meridian’s Delaware subsidiary.” Grant lunged for the document. Nathan moved faster, pulling it away. “Interesting reaction.”
Grant shoved him. The ballroom erupted. Nathan staggered back into a chair, then came forward with frightening calm. I grabbed Grant’s sleeve before he could swing again. He spun and knocked me against the edge of the table. Pain shot through my hip. Nathan seized Grant by the lapels and slammed him backward against a column. “Touch her again,” he said quietly, “and the police will be the least of your problems.” “Nathan!” I caught his arm. Detective Hayes stepped between them. “Everybody stop.” Vanessa rushed over, furious. “Look what Claire has done to my wedding!” Something inside me finally snapped. “Your wedding? Grant framed me for stealing millions!” “Because you did!” she shouted. “Mom showed me everything.” The room seemed to tilt. “Mom showed you?” Vanessa’s face changed. She had said too much.
I ran upstairs before anyone could stop me. Our mother, Diane Mercer, had disappeared from the reception twenty minutes earlier. I found her in the bridal suite stuffing documents into a leather handbag. “Mom.” She froze. “Claire, sweetheart—” “Put the bag down.” “You don’t understand.” “Then explain why Grant has transfers authorized with Dad’s private code.” Tears filled her eyes. “I was trying to protect you.” “By making me look like a criminal?” She shook her head violently. “No. Grant made me sign documents after your father died. He said they were refinancing papers. When I realized what he’d done, he threatened Vanessa.” The door slammed behind me. Grant stood there.
“You talk too much, Diane.” My mother went white. Grant locked the door. I backed toward the dresser. “Nathan knows about the Delaware account.” “Nathan knows what I wanted him to know.” Grant reached for the handbag. Mom clutched it to her chest. “No.” He grabbed her. I shoved myself between them. “Get away from her!” He caught my shoulder and threw me onto the bed. I kicked his knee as he leaned over me. He cursed, stumbling. Mom screamed. Then the door crashed inward. Nathan hit Grant from the side, driving him into the wall. Detective Hayes came behind him with another officer. “Hands where I can see them!”
Grant raised his hands, but he was smiling. “Ask Claire what’s inside that bag.” Mom sank into a chair. With shaking fingers, I opened it. Inside were incorporation records, Dad’s original will, and a sealed letter addressed to me. Nathan read over my shoulder as I unfolded the first document. Mercer Development had never been left equally to Vanessa and me. My father had transferred fifty-one percent of the voting shares to a trust controlled by me on my twenty-fifth birthday—three days from now. “That’s why you framed me,” I whispered. Grant’s expression hardened. “Your father ruined everything.” Nathan took another document from the bag. “Claire, there’s more.” The supposed $7 million family debt I had spent three years paying wasn’t legitimate debt at all. Most of it had been created through shell loans controlled by Sloan Meridian. Grant hadn’t married Vanessa for her inheritance. He had married her because he believed she could force me to sign away Mercer Development before I gained control.
Detective Hayes reached for Grant. Suddenly the lights went out. Someone screamed downstairs. Glass shattered. In the darkness, Grant slammed into me, tore the sealed letter from my hand, and ran. Nathan caught me before I fell. Seconds later emergency lights flickered red. Hayes shouted into her radio. A security guard raced upstairs. “Mr. Blackwood! Sloan took Mrs. Sloan with him.” My heart stopped. “Vanessa?” The guard nodded. “He dragged her through the service exit. And he says if Claire doesn’t bring the original trust documents to Pier Seven in twenty minutes, her sister won’t be coming back.”
PART 3
“I’m going.” Nathan blocked the doorway. “Absolutely not.” “She’s my sister.” “And Grant just assaulted three people and abducted his wife.” I shoved the documents into my mother’s handbag. “Then help me do this intelligently.” Detective Hayes wanted tactical officers, but Pier Seven was six minutes away and Grant had specifically warned against police. Nathan looked at me for a long second, then took off his tuxedo jacket and wrapped it around my shoulders. “You stay behind me.” “That arrangement hasn’t worked particularly well tonight.” “Claire.” “Nathan.” For the first time all evening, he almost smiled. “Fine. Beside me.”
We found Grant inside an abandoned yacht-storage warehouse near Newport Harbor. Vanessa sat in a chair with her wrists bound, mascara streaked down her face. Grant stood behind her holding a metal boat hook like a club. “Documents.” I lifted the leather bag. “Let her go first.” “You don’t negotiate.” “Actually, according to my father’s trust, I own fifty-one percent of the company you’ve spent three years trying to steal. That makes me the only person here who can give you what you want.” His face tightened. “Throw the bag.” “Release Vanessa.” “Claire, don’t!” Vanessa cried. Grant jerked her chair backward. “Now!”
I threw the bag between us. Grant kicked it open and dropped to one knee. That was Nathan’s opening. He charged. Grant swung the boat hook. Nathan ducked, drove his shoulder into Grant’s chest, and both men crashed into a workbench. I ran to Vanessa. “Hold still.” “I’m sorry,” she sobbed. “Claire, I’m so sorry.” “Save it until we’re alive.” I used a jagged metal edge to saw through the plastic restraint around her wrists. Behind me, Grant slammed Nathan into a stack of wooden crates. Nathan hit the floor. Grant raised the hook again. I grabbed a fire extinguisher and blasted him in the face. He stumbled backward, coughing. Vanessa kicked the hook away. Nathan tackled him before he recovered.
Sirens exploded outside. Grant froze. Detective Hayes entered with four officers, weapons trained downward but ready. “Grant Sloan, don’t move.” He looked at me in disbelief. “You called them.” “No.” Nathan wiped blood from his lip. “I did. Before we left the mansion.” Grant laughed bitterly. “Then the documents are worthless.” I stared at him. “The documents in that bag are photocopies.” His face emptied. “The originals are already with Detective Hayes.” She lifted an evidence folder. “Along with Mrs. Mercer’s statement, the Delaware banking records, security footage of you taking Claire’s phone, and audio from the microphone Mr. Blackwood was wearing when you demanded the trust papers.” Grant looked at Nathan. “You planned this?” Nathan’s eyes shifted to me. “She did.”
Three days later, I walked into Mercer Development’s emergency shareholder meeting in Manhattan wearing the same restored blue dress my sister had mocked. Vanessa was already there. She had annulment papers pending, no makeup, and none of the arrogance she had worn at her wedding. When the board demanded to know whether I intended to sell the company to Blackwood Holdings, I stood at the head of the table. “No. My father built this business. Grant nearly destroyed it because everyone assumed the quiet daughter would keep cleaning up disasters without asking who created them. That ends today.” My mother surrendered her remaining proxy rights to the trust. Vanessa transferred the shares Grant had manipulated her into pledging. Federal investigators froze Sloan Meridian’s shell accounts, and the recovered funds erased nearly every fraudulent obligation I had spent years believing was ours.
After the meeting, Nathan found me alone beside the windows overlooking Midtown. “So,” he said, “our fake relationship survived approximately seventy-two hours, one wedding disaster, an embezzlement investigation, an abduction, and a warehouse fight.” “Not your most relaxing weekend?” “Not even close.” I smiled. “Then I suppose you’re free.” He stepped toward me. “That’s the problem.” My heartbeat changed. “What problem?” “I lied to you at the wedding.” “About what?” “I said I needed you to scare away women who wanted to marry me.” His hand gently closed around mine. “The truth is, I’d noticed you two hours earlier. You were arguing with a florist because Vanessa had refused to pay him. Then you quietly paid him yourself.” I looked away. “He had employees to pay.” “Exactly.” Nathan lifted my chin. “I didn’t ask you to pretend because I needed protection, Claire. I asked because it was the only excuse I could think of to stand beside you without admitting I already wanted to.”
I laughed softly. “That is an embarrassingly bad strategy for a billionaire.” “I’ve had a difficult week.” “So have I.” “Then let’s simplify one thing.” He leaned closer, but stopped inches from me. “No pretending this time. May I kiss you?” After a lifetime of people grabbing, ordering, demanding, and deciding for me, that simple question almost broke my heart. I smiled. “Yes.” And when he kissed me, there were no cameras, no ballroom whispers, no contracts, no family expectations. Just a man who had stood beside me when everyone else expected me to bow my head—and a woman who finally understood that being chosen meant nothing until she chose herself first.
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