Chapter 9 - The Man Who Came With Flowers

I called my firm's security line with trembling hands. My colleague Jen put the account into lockdown and said the deletion could probably be reversed because our system kept immutable backups. Probably was not a word I liked anymore.

"Don't touch any links," Jen warned. "And change every recovery method once we know who's inside."

Dean turned toward the door. "I'm going to find Maren."

"No," I said. "You're going to stay until we know Mae is okay. This isn't a fistfight we can win in a parking lot."

Before noon, a broad-shouldered man in a charcoal suit arrived with a bouquet of roses. He introduced himself as Harrison Vale, counsel for the Mercer family.

"Mrs. Mercer, I'm here in a spirit of reconciliation."

He placed a folder beside my water pitcher. It contained an apology for the disruption at Owen's wedding, a statement that I'd fainted, and an agreement not to make further public or legal claims against Maren. A proposed payment would cover my medical expenses.

"You can go," Dean said.

Vale ignored him. "Given your condition, Laurel, this would spare you a long, stressful proceeding."

I flipped to the final page. There was also a broad confidentiality clause covering Harbor House Fund finances.

"That has nothing to do with my hospital bills."

"It's standard language."

"It's a gag order," I said.

His smile narrowed. "This family's charitable work supports hundreds of vulnerable people. Surely you understand the damage an accusation can do."

"I understand the damage missing housing money already did."

At that moment the NICU nurse called. Mae had needed an adjustment to her breathing support. The nurse said it wasn't unusual, but my chest tightened so sharply I could hardly speak.

Vale watched me put down the phone. He slipped his pen onto the open folder.

"You see? Your family needs peace."

Dean picked up the folder, closed it, and handed it back. "And you need to leave."

At the door, Vale hesitated. "Before you refuse, you should know something, Mrs. Mercer. Your company account isn't the only place with copies of those documents."

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"What does that mean?"

He met my eyes. "Ask your husband who gave Maren the spare key to your home."