Hayes rubbed his face.
“I thought he was just getting old and suspicious.”
He looked at me.
“What if he was trying to warn me?”
I reached for his hand.
He held it tightly.
For a long time, neither of us spoke.
At six fifteen that evening, Detective Brooks called.
Hayes answered immediately.
“Detective?”
“I have an update.”
He straightened.
“About Kale?”
“About the evidence.”
My heartbeat quickened.
“We interviewed the catering employee.”
“And?”
“She provided the photograph she mentioned.”
Hayes looked at me.
“Does it show Vesta?”
“Yes.”
I closed my eyes.
Relief rushed through me.
But Brooks wasn’t finished.
“More importantly, the employee remembered something about the bocce ball.”
Hayes frowned.
“What?”
“She said it wasn’t sitting with the other equipment when she arrived.”
I opened my eyes.
“She remembers seeing someone carry it into the backyard shortly before the argument.”
Hayes leaned forward.
“Who?”
Brooks paused.
“Vesta Mercer.”
The room seemed to tilt.
I stared at Hayes.
His expression hardened.
“You’re saying my aunt brought that specific ball outside?”
“That’s what the witness recalls. We’re working to corroborate it.”
I felt my pulse pounding.
If Vesta had brought the ball outside before the attack, then her behavior afterward looked even more disturbing.
It suggested she knew exactly where the weapon came from.
Possibly why it was there.
Hayes asked, “Did the witness see where Vesta got it?”
“She said Vesta came from the house carrying a small wooden case.”
Hayes went still.
“A wooden case?”
“Yes.”
He looked toward me.
I could see recognition spreading across his face.
“My grandfather kept the numbered balls in a wooden cabinet.”
Brooks continued.
“We’re seeking additional footage and records. Don’t confront anyone about this.”
Hayes nodded.
“Understood.”
Then the detective said, “There’s one more development.”
I held my breath.
“We located an old incident report involving Daniel Rourke.”
Hayes stood.
“What does it say?”
“I haven’t completed the review. But the incident occurred at the Mercer estate, and it involved a heavy metal object.”
I stared at him.
Brooks continued.
“Mr. Rourke suffered a serious head injury. The report was initially classified as an accident.”
Hayes whispered, “Just like Marin.”
“That’s one similarity. We need to examine the rest.”
He gripped the phone.
“Is Rourke alive?”
A pause.
“We believe so.”
“Where is he?”
“We’re attempting to contact him.”
Hayes closed his eyes.
“Please let me know when you do.”
“I will.”
The call ended.
That night, Evelyn arrived with a final piece of news.
She had been reviewing the old estate records.
And she had found something unexpected.
“Your grandfather created a separate reserve account shortly before his death,” she told Hayes.
He frowned.
“For what?”
“Legal expenses.”
“Whose?”
Evelyn hesitated.
“Anyone harmed by misconduct connected to Mercer Holdings or its controlling family members.”
I stared at her.
Hayes looked confused.
“Why would Grandpa create something like that?”
“Because he was concerned about unresolved liabilities.”
She opened a folder.
“There’s a handwritten note attached.”
Hayes leaned forward.
Evelyn read aloud.
“‘If the truth comes out after I’m gone, make sure the people who suffered are not forced to pay for our mistakes.'”
Silence filled the room.
Hayes stared at her.
Then he whispered, “He knew.”
Evelyn closed the folder.
“He knew something was wrong.”
I looked toward the window.
The city lights blurred through my tears.
Arthur Mercer had been dead for nearly a decade.
Yet somehow, his final decisions were beginning to protect me.
A woman he had never met.
I reached for my notepad.
HOW MUCH IS IN THE ACCOUNT?
Evelyn checked the statement.
“Approximately four million dollars.”
Hayes stared.
“Four million?”
“Yes.”
He looked at me.
Then at Evelyn.
“Can my father access it?”
“No. The reserve was placed under independent administration.”
I felt something shift inside me.
For days, the Mercers had behaved as though they controlled every resource, every witness, every possible outcome.
But they didn’t.
Arthur Mercer had left behind protections his son couldn’t simply erase.
And Hayes had transferred his own estate into my control.
The family that had tried to make me powerless was losing its grip.
One document at a time.
At ten forty-seven that night, my phone vibrated.
Another message from the anonymous number.
I stared at the screen.
DID YOU GET THE ENVELOPE?
I showed Hayes.
He immediately sat beside me.
“Don’t answer yet.”
Another message appeared.
VESTA KNOWS SOMEONE IS TALKING.
Then another.
SHE’S LOOKING FOR THE PERSON WHO TOOK THE PHOTO.
Hayes called Detective Brooks.
While he spoke, I watched the screen.
A new message appeared.
I CAN PROVE WHAT HAPPENED TO DANIEL ROURKE.
My breath caught.
Then:
BUT YOU NEED TO SEE WHAT YOUR HUSBAND’S GRANDFATHER LEFT BEHIND.
I looked at Hayes.
He was still speaking to the detective.
I typed carefully.
WHAT DID HE LEAVE?
