#PART1
Doctors gave my six-year-old twins ten days to live, and for the first time, every dollar, weapon, and ounce of power attached to my name meant absolutely nothing.
Then a penniless woman appeared outside my Chicago estate and refused to leave. When she told my security chief she knew my children were dying, I discovered she was carrying something that had belonged to my dead wife.
My name is Lawson Mercer.
Dr. Franklin Yates stood beside me while Jonah and Blythe slept behind glass. Their bodies looked impossibly small beneath the blankets.
“We’ve exhausted what they can tolerate,” he said.
“How long?”
“Maybe ten days.”
Leukemia had already taken their hair. Their appetites. Their laughter. Now it wanted everything.
Later, Jonah opened his eyes.
“Dad?”
“I’m here.”
Blythe reached for my hand.
“Daddy, if I go first, can Jonah come with me?”
I’d heard men beg for their lives. Nothing had ever frightened me like that sentence.
“Nobody’s going anywhere.”
She looked toward the empty chair beside her bed.
“Mommy went.”
Genevieve. Their mother. My wife. Dead for two years.
I had built an empire capable of surviving almost anything.
Twelve-foot walls. Armed guards. Bulletproof glass. An underground armory.
None of it could protect my children from their own blood.
At three that afternoon, my security chief, Prescott Hale, entered my office.
“She’s still outside.”
“Who?”
“The woman asking about the caregiver position.”
“We aren’t hiring.”
“I told her.”
“Then remove her.”
Prescott didn’t move.
That got my attention.
“What’s wrong?”
“She says she knows Jonah and Blythe are dying.”
I stood immediately.
Nobody outside my inner circle knew.
“Bring her in.”
Minutes later, two guards escorted a thin woman into my office. Her coat was worn. Her shoes were soaked. She couldn’t have been older than thirty.
“Name?”
“Elena Ward.”
“How do you know about my children?”
She swallowed.
“I can’t explain until I see them.”
“You’ll explain now.”
Instead, Elena reached beneath her sweater.
My guards moved instantly.
“Stop.”
She slowly pulled out a silver necklace.
My breath disappeared.
A tiny blue stone hung from it.
I’d given that necklace to Genevieve on our first anniversary.
I’d believed she had been buried wearing it.
“Where did you get that?”
Elena’s eyes filled with tears.
“Your wife gave it to me.”
“Impossible.”
“Three weeks before she died.”
I stared at her.
Genevieve had died instantly in a highway collision.
At least, that was what I’d been told.
Then Elena pulled a folded medical report from her pocket.
“I didn’t come because I need a job, Mr. Mercer.”
She placed it on my desk.
“I came because Genevieve made me promise that if anything ever happened to her, I’d find your children.”
My eyes dropped to the report.
Across the top were Jonah and Blythe’s names.
The date was seven years old.
One year before they were born.
I looked up slowly.
“What is this?”
Elena’s voice trembled.
“The reason your children’s treatment isn’t working.”
She glanced toward the guarded hallway.
“And if the person who killed Genevieve learns I’m here, none of us will survive tonight.”
Want to learn why Elena had my wife’s necklace?
#PART2
For several seconds, I couldn’t speak.
I kept staring at the report Elena had placed on my desk.
Jonah Mercer. Blythe Mercer.
The report was seven years old. My children were six.
“What is this?”
I asked again, but this time my voice was lower.
Elena looked at Prescott.
“Do you trust your security chief?”
Prescott had worked for me for eleven years. He had pulled me out of a burning vehicle in Detroit. He had once taken a bullet meant for me and refused medical treatment until he knew I was safe.
“More than anyone,” I said.
“Then lock the doors.”
Prescott did.
“Start talking.”
Elena carefully unfolded another page.
“This isn’t a diagnosis from seven years ago. It’s a genetic compatibility report from a private fertility clinic.”
I frowned.
“Genevieve and I never went to a fertility clinic.”
Elena’s expression changed.
“That’s what you were supposed to believe.”
I felt the air leave the room.
“Before the twins were born, Genevieve discovered something. Someone had been accessing your medical records. Someone had been tracking your business investments. Someone knew your family history.”
“Who?”
“We don’t know everything.”
“Then tell me what you do know.”
Elena slid the first page toward me.
“There was an experimental fertility program. Extremely private. Genevieve was approached because of your family’s genetic profile.”
To read what Genevieve discovered about our family,
