Chapter 6 - The Fall of Mercer
By 8:00 a.m. the following morning, the world had changed for Grant Mercer.
The video of the Grand Marquette gala had gone viral overnight.
Seventy million views across social media platforms. The image of Grant holding his mistress while his pregnant wife stood soaked in red punch was trending on every major news network. The headline on the Chicago Tribune read:
MERCER DEVELOPMENT IN CHAOS: CALDWELL FAMILY INTERVENES AFTER PUBLIC GALA SCANDAL
Grant sat in his glass office on the forty-fifth floor of Mercer Tower, his face pale, his eyes bloodshot, five empty coffee cups cluttering his desk.
Serena was sitting on the leather sofa, frantically refreshing her phone. “My Instagram account has been suspended!” she shrieked. “My agency just dropped me! Grant, do something!”
“Shut up!” Grant yelled, slamming his hand onto the desk. “Just shut up!”
The double doors of his office swung open.
Three men in dark gray suits walked in, accompanied by two armed officers from the Cook County Sheriff’s Department.
“Grant Mercer?” the lead agent asked.
Grant stood up, trying to summon his old authority. “Who the hell are you? You can’t enter my private office without—”
“I’m Agent Vance with the Federal Bureau of Investigation,” the man said, showing a silver badge. “We have a warrant for your arrest for bank fraud, identity theft, forging legal instruments, and illegal wire transfers.”
Grant’s knees went weak. “What? That’s insane! This is a personal dispute with my wife’s family—”
“Your wife’s legal counsel delivered thirty gigabytes of encrypted financial records to the U.S. Attorney’s office at five this morning,” Agent Vance interrupted calmly. “Including the forged loan documents for the West Loop tower.”
Grant looked at Serena, then at the officers advancing on him with handcuffs.
“Wait!” Grant panicked, pointing at Serena. “It was her! The Cayman account is in her sister’s name! She told me how to structure the transfers!”
Serena gasped, her jaw dropping. “You lying coward! You told me Eleanor’s family would never fight back!”
Two minutes later, Grant Mercer was led out through the lobby of his own building in handcuffs, surrounded by twenty news cameras, his face pressed toward the marble floor to avoid the flashing lights.
Across town, in the high-rise offices of Caldwell Global, Eleanor sat in Adrian’s corner office, watching the live news broadcast on a wall-mounted screen.
Julian sat across from her, taking a sip of dark coffee.
“The grand jury convenes on Thursday,” Julian said smoothly. “He’s looking at twelve to fifteen years in a federal facility. Serena Blake is signing a plea deal as we speak.”
Eleanor stared at the image of Grant being shoved into the back of a police cruiser.
For years, she had thought Grant was an immovable force. A genius. A giant who held her life in his hands.
Seeing him now—small, weeping, ruined—she realized he had never been a giant. He had just been a shadow, and she had stood too close to see the light.
Gabriel walked into the office, carrying a large box of hot cinnamon pastries from the bakery Eleanor used to love when she was sixteen.
“Fresh out of the oven,” Gabriel said, setting the box on her lap. “Eat. You’re feeding two now.”
Eleanor looked at the pastries, then at Gabriel, then at Julian, and finally at Adrian, who walked in from the adjoining boardroom, taking off his suit jacket.
She smiled—a real, radiant smile that reached her eyes for the first time in five years.
May you like
“Thank you,” she whispered.
Adrian sat on the arm of her chair, resting his hand on her shoulder. “We’re just getting started, Ellie. We have a baby shower to plan.”
