Chapter 13 - Eight O'Clock

At 7:52 the next morning, I walked into Mercer Holdings with my arm in a sling and Claire beside me.

Conversation died across the lobby.

People stared at the woman whose portrait had hung at my memorial fundraiser six years earlier.

Claire kept walking.

"You okay?" I asked.

"No."

"Me neither."

"Good. I'd hate to be the only one."

For the first time, something almost like the old Claire flashed between us.

The boardroom doors opened.

Vanessa sat at the far end of the table in a white suit.

She looked rested.

Perfect.

Untouchable.

Two attorneys sat beside her.

"Ethan," she said calmly. "You're injured. You should be home."

Then she looked at Claire.

"And you should be dead."

Claire pulled out a chair.

"You first."

The board members shifted uneasily.

Vanessa's attorney stood. "Before we begin, we have serious concerns about the identity and mental stability of the woman claiming to be Claire Mercer."

He distributed medical records.

Claire went pale.

"Those are fake."

"They show years of psychiatric treatment under multiple aliases."

Marcus, seated behind us, whispered, "Pierce's clinic."

Vanessa had prepared this.

She displayed photographs of Claire watching the Malibu house from a distance, entering the grounds at night, approaching Sophie without permission.

"This woman abducted my stepdaughter yesterday," Vanessa said.

I stood.

"You kidnapped both of them."

"Do you have proof?"

The room went silent.

I had witnesses. I had injuries. I had Sophie's statement.

But the ledger—the clean financial link—was with Vanessa.

She smiled.

"Then let's vote."

The board secretary began calling names.

Three votes for Vanessa's sale.

Two against.

Then Daniel's name.

He stared at me.

"Daniel Mercer?"

My brother slowly raised his hand.

"For the sale."

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The board members avoided looking at Claire directly. Some of them had attended her funeral. Two had spoken at it. I watched recognition turn into fear as they understood that a living Claire didn't just threaten Vanessa's story. She threatened every comfortable decision they'd made because accepting the official version had been easier than asking questions.

I felt the floor disappear beneath me.