Chapter 5 - Desperate MeasuresThe Mercer family was escorted from the property at exactly 10:00 PM.
They stood on the wet gravel driveway as the massive iron gates slid shut, locking them out of the luxury they had stolen from others for decades. They didn't have their luxury SUVs; those were corporate assets, and the keys had been confiscated by the receiver. They were forced to wait in the rain for a single, ordinary taxi that Owen had called from his phone.
The house was finally quiet, save for the hum of the forensic team’s equipment.
Marcus turned to me as a medical unit I had summoned arrived to treat the burns on my scalp and shoulder. “Claire, you need to go to the hospital. The paramedics say you have second-degree burns along your neck.”
“I’m fine, Marcus,” I said, wincing as the paramedic applied a cooling gel to my skin. “Did we secure the physical files from Grant’s desk?”
“We did,” Marcus said, but before he could finish, the main monitor in the server room began to flash with a bright red warning label.
One of the tech specialists looked up, his fingers flying across the mechanical keyboard. “Ms. Mercer, we have a problem. Someone is accessing the secondary corporate backup from an external IP address right now. They’re trying to wipe the offshore transaction records.”
I pushed past the paramedic, ignoring the sting of the bandages. “Where is the access originating from?”
The specialist tracked the signal, a map of the city appearing on the screen. A small blue dot flickered near the industrial district by the harbor. “It’s a secure terminal inside the Mercer Holdings secondary warehouse. Someone had a physical bypass key.”
“Grant,” I whispered. He hadn't left with his mother and sister. He had slipped away from the taxi or used a secondary vehicle he kept hidden off-site. He knew that if the offshore records were fully decrypted, he wouldn't just lose his wealth—he would be looking at a twenty-year federal prison sentence.
“I’m calling the police,” Marcus said, reaching for his phone.
“No,” I said, grabbing his arm. “The police will take thirty minutes to get a warrant for that specific location, and by then, the servers will be clean. I know the master override code for that terminal. Grant thinks I forgot it, but I drafted the original security protocol when we got married. I’m going there.”
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“Claire, you’re injured,” Marcus protested.
“I’ve been waiting eighteen months for tonight, Marcus. I’m not letting him delete his crimes in the dark.”
