Chapter 3
Callan Mercer signed the final page of the separation agreement with a swift, irritated stroke of his pen.
"Give her forty-eight hours in a cheap motel, and she’ll be blowing up your phone, begging to come back. Callan." Rosalie Bennett said from the armchair, swirling her scotch.
"She didn't ask for the house," Callan muttered, his brow furrowing as he stared at the clean, sharp handwriting of my signature.
"She didn't even ask for an allowance. It makes no sense."
"She is emotional," Rosalie said softly.
Callan cleared his throat. "Let's close the chapter."
He reached for the porcelain mug on his desk, taking a slow sip.
Before Rosalie could reply, the heavy office door burst open.
Gideon Ford stood in the frame, his face completely pale.
"Callan," Gideon panted, ignoring protocol. "We've got a problem. Arlen's on the line."
Callan picked up the receiver. "Arlen. Good morning."
"I just saw your corporate press, Callan. And I hear Seren resigned this morning. Is that true?"
Callan forced a smile. "We're handling a private matter, but Rosalie will take over Seren's role. She'll be briefed by—"
"I don't know a Rosalie," Arlen cut him off.
"My company has stayed with Mercer because your wife built our systems. Let's postpone next week's rollout until I understand what's happening on your end."
Callan's fingers tightened against the receiver. "Arlen, there's no need to delay—"
The line went dead with a clean click.
"What did he say?" Rosalie asked, her smile faltering.
"Arlen doesn't want you taking Seren's place," Callan said.
Rosalie let out a sharp, dismissive laugh, her eyes narrowing.
"Arlen is an old man, Callan. He's just being cautious. I'll fly to New York tomorrow morning and meet him myself. It's just one nervous client."
Callan looked up at her and nodded.
"Do it. Don't let this spread."
"What about Seren?" Rosalie asked softly.
"She can go wherever she wants. The child stays with us. And my business isn't taking a single hit over this."
Across the county line in Belridge, the rain held no mercy, blurring the windows of my kitchen.
I signed the final deed page, the brass keys heavy and cold against my palm.
"Three bedrooms?" the realtor asked gently, packing her documents into a leather briefcase.
"It’s a massive property for one person, Miss Alston."
"My daughter will need this room," I said, my voice calm.
The realtor paused, looking around the bare, hollow space. "She doesn't live with you?"
"Not yet," I said.
A sharp, familiar ache twisted in my stomach.
The image of Lila flashed in my mind.
Lila didn’t want to come here. She didn't want this room.
She wanted the woman who bought her macarons and filled her head with venom.
By the time dusk settled over the city, I was sitting in my car, meeting with the head of a premier domestic intelligence firm.
The investigator slid a single manila folder over to me.
"We've only completed the initial background check, Mrs. Alston," he said, his voice flat.
I opened it under the dim cabin light.
A photograph.
Callan and Rosalie stood shoulder to shoulder, laughing in front of an old campus building.
The date stamped at the bottom read: Nine years earlier.
I looked up, the paper suddenly feeling cold in my hands.
"Callan told me they met four months ago."
The investigator nodded once, his eyes unreadable in the dark vehicle.
"The records disagree."
I turned the page.
My eyes fell on a volunteer register from the Evermoor Community Center.
Rosalie Bennett’s signature appeared on the lines over and over again.
Every entry predated the day Callan introduced her as his consultant.
"What am I looking at?" I whispered.
My pulse hammered against my ribs.
"We're still verifying," the investigator said.
Before I could turn another page, he reached across the folder, quietly closed it, and pulled it back into his briefcase.
"Mrs. Alston. We've only finished the first day's work. Everything else is still being verified."
He left the car and stepped out into the dark.
The rain drummed softly against the windshield.
Suddenly, my phone vibrated.
Evermoor Academy.
For a second, I couldn't bring myself to answer.
Then I pressed Accept.
"Lila's mother?"
My grip tightened around the phone.
"Yes."
"We need you to come to the school."