Chapter 8 - Uncle Raymond
We recovered Ethan.
Mercer escaped.
Again.
I hated that man with increasing professionalism.
Michael took a bullet through the shoulder during the confusion.
Nonfatal.
Claire refused to leave him.
The moment my son was safe, I called the mansion.
No answer.
Raymond Hayes was sixty-four.
My father's older brother.
He had taught me accounting before teaching me extortion.
He had managed the legitimate architecture surrounding my empire for seventeen years.
He was also Ethan's godfather.
When we reached the estate, the front gates stood open.
No guards.
Inside, nobody was dead.
That frightened me more.
They were unconscious.
Drugged.
The girls were gone.
On my dining table sat four porcelain teacups.
One for each sister.
Raymond sat at the head.
Calmly drinking from a fifth.
Claire rushed him.
“Where are my daughters?”
“Safe.”
I nearly laughed.
That word again.
“Where?”
Raymond looked at me.
“You've become sentimental.”
“You financed Mercer.”
“I financed Catherine.”
“Difference?”
“At first? Significant.”
Raymond claimed Catherine came to him years earlier because she feared asking me for money.
She wanted to build a legitimate escape network.
He funded it secretly.
Then Mercer turned it into blackmail.
Raymond discovered the profits.
And instead of stopping it—
he invested.
“Children's fear made you money?”
“Information made me money.”
Michael looked sick.
“You killed Catherine.”
“No.”
“Her brakes?”
“Mercer.”
“On your orders?”
Raymond didn't answer.
Enough.
Claire slapped him.
He accepted it almost casually.
Then she asked again:
“Where are my daughters?”
Raymond pointed upstairs.
All four were asleep inside Ethan's room.
Alive.
Unharmed.
Claire nearly collapsed.
“Why take them?”
“I needed Alexander listening instead of attacking.”
I stepped closer.
“You have thirty seconds.”
Raymond placed another folder down.
“Mercer isn't trying to marry Claire.”
We knew that much.
“He wants legal access to the girls.”
“Why?”
“Because Catherine left something to Michael's biological children.”
My brother stared.
“What?”
Raymond opened the folder.
A trust.
Not money.
Ownership.
Catherine had transferred control of the remaining blue-room archives to Michael's future children through an encrypted legal structure.
She had known Michael loved Claire.
Known they might build a family.
“If Mercer marries Claire…”
“He becomes their legal stepfather.”
“And gains standing if something happens to her.”
Exactly.
That was why he had pressured Claire.
Why he told the girls they needed a father.
Why they were being conditioned to accept him.
My hands curled.
“What's in the archives?”
Raymond looked at me.
“Enough evidence to destroy hundreds of men.”
Including me?
“Yes.”
I almost smiled.
“Good.”
Raymond blinked.
“Release it.”
Michael stared.
“Alexander—”
“Release everything involving crimes. Protect the children's identities.”
Raymond laughed.
“You'd destroy your own empire?”
“If that's what the evidence deserves.”
For the first time, my uncle looked uncertain.
Then a voice came from the staircase.
“That's what Catherine hoped you'd say.”
We turned.
Ethan stood there.
Holding Catherine's old wooden box.
He had found another hidden compartment.
Inside was a key.
And a photograph.
Catherine standing beside Claire.
Both pregnant.
Claire stared at it.
“I wasn't pregnant at the same time as Catherine.”
Michael went pale.
“No.”
Claire looked at him.
“What?”
Michael stared at the photograph.
“That's not you.”
The women looked almost identical.
Same auburn hair.
Same eyes.
Same smile.
On the back, Catherine had written one name:
Charlotte Ashby.
Claire's twin sister.
Claire whispered:
“I don't have a sister.”
Raymond slowly put down his cup.
“Yes,” he said.
“You do.”
May you like
Then he looked at Michael.
“And she is Richard Mercer's wife.”
