Chapter 8 - The Mercer Name
Claire backed away from the desk.
“No.”
Thomas stood.
“Claire.”
“No.”
The room seemed too small.
Julian’s father, Richard Mercer, had died eleven years earlier.
Claire had attended his funeral.
She had stood beside Julian while he cried.
She had called Richard Dad after her wedding.
Now Thomas was telling her Richard Mercer might also have been her biological father.
Which would mean Julian—
Thomas saw where her mind had gone.
“No.”
He crossed the room quickly.
“Richard was not Julian’s biological father.”
Claire stared at him.
“What?”
Diane sat down.
For the first time, she looked exhausted rather than controlling.
“Julian was adopted by Richard when he was three.”
Claire closed her eyes.
The relief was physical.
Then anger replaced it.
“How many secrets does one family need?”
Thomas continued.
“Richard had an affair with Evelyn before he married Julian’s mother.”
“Did he know about me?”
“Not until the week of the crash.”
Claire remembered Evelyn’s letter.
She had planned to tell him.
“Did Diane know?”
Thomas did not answer.
Claire looked at Diane.
“You knew.”
Diane crossed her arms.
“Evelyn was about to destroy two families.”
“So you stopped her?”
“I tried to stop her from making a reckless decision.”
“With her car?”
Diane stood.
“I did not cause that accident.”
Claire believed almost nothing she said.
“Richard was wealthy.”
Diane laughed.
“This was never about Richard’s money.”
“It was about Hale money.”
Diane’s eyes narrowed.
“You have no idea what it took to keep that company alive.”
Claire stepped closer.
“It was not yours to keep.”
“I spent forty years cleaning up Evelyn’s chaos.”
“By taking her daughter?”
“By raising you.”
Claire felt tears burn behind her eyes.
“You do not get to call theft motherhood.”
Diane slapped her.
The sound cracked through the study.
Thomas grabbed Diane’s arm.
Claire did not move.
Diane looked shocked by what she had done.
Claire touched her cheek.
Then she smiled.
“Thank you.”
Diane stared.
“For what?”
“For making this easier.”
Claire walked out.
By the time she reached her car, three things had become clear.
Her marriage was built on fraud.
Her childhood was built on concealment.
And both families had spent decades profiting from what Claire did not know.
Her phone rang.
Julian.
She answered.
“Hello.”
“Where are you?”
“Driving.”
“We need to talk.”
“About?”
“The paperwork.”
Claire almost admired his persistence.
“I’ll come to the office.”
“No.”
His voice was sharper than usual.
“Come to the Halston.”
“Why?”
“Paige told me you know.”
Claire’s grip tightened on the steering wheel.
There was no reason to pretend anymore.
“How much did she tell you?”
“Enough.”
“Then tell me something.”
“What?”
“Did you marry me because you loved me or because your father told you who I was?”
Silence.
Claire’s heart broke in that silence before Julian answered.
“Come to the hotel.”
She hung up.
Instead of going to the Halston, Claire called Martin.
“I need every record showing when Julian first learned about the trust.”
Martin hesitated.
“I found something last night.”
“What?”
“A letter Richard Mercer sent Julian shortly before Richard died.”
Claire pulled onto the shoulder.
“What does it say?”
Martin’s voice became quiet.
“It says, ‘If you are going to marry Claire, make certain it is for the right reason, because one day she will learn who she is.’”
Claire closed her eyes.
“When was it written?”
May you like
Martin answered.
“Three days before your wedding.”
