Chapter 5 - The Unexpected Delivery
By Wednesday evening—exactly one week after my Thanksgiving rebellion—the initial shockwave had settled into a cold, hostile war of attrition. My parents hadn't called back, and Mallory had resorted to sending passive-aggressive group text messages about "selfish siblings who abandon family in times of crisis," which I promptly deleted without reading.
I was closing up Mercer Foods around 9:00 PM, double-checking the receiving dock locks, when a low-slung black town car turned slowly down the alleyway behind our store.
I paused, holding my flashlight against the damp pavement.
The town car didn't belong to a grocery vendor. Its tinted windows gleamed under the amber security lights, and as it came to a stop near the recycling bins, the rear door swung open.
A tall man in a charcoal overcoat stepped out onto the wet asphalt. He wasn't local. Even in the dim light, the cut of his Italian wool coat and the polished leather of his shoes screamed Wall Street or corporate executive—definitely not Binghamton, New York.
He adjusted his scarf, looked around the empty receiving dock, and then his eyes locked onto me standing by the door.
"Ms. Leah Mercer?" he asked, his voice smooth, controlled, and carrying a crisp, metropolitan edge.
I kept my hand firmly on the heavy metal handle of the back door, eyeing him with caution. "That depends. Are you selling something, or are you lost?"
The man offered a polite, humorless smile, pulling a thick manila envelope from his briefcase. "Neither, Ms. Mercer. I'm an attorney representing an estate. And it turns out you are very difficult to track down through traditional channels—mostly because your financial footprint for the last eight years has been inexplicably tangled up with a local catering company and a series of domestic wire transfers."
My heart skipped a beat. "What are you talking about?"
"I'm talking about your grandfather, Arthur Mercer," the attorney said smoothly, walking a few steps closer into the circle of light. "He passed away in Switzerland three days ago. And according to his final testament, you are his sole surviving primary heir."
I stared at him, the cold November wind howling softly through the alley. "My grandfather died thirty years ago."
May you like
The attorney smiled, tapping the manila envelope against his thigh. "Not that grandfather, Ms. Mercer. Your paternal grandfather. The one your father hasn't spoken to since 1995. And he left you something substantial—starting with the entire corporate portfolio of Mercer-Apex Holdings."
Before I could answer, my phone buzzed violently in my coat pocket with an incoming call from an unsaved number, flashing across the screen like a warning bell.
