Chapter 13 - FORTY-EIGHT HOURS
Forty-eight hours sounds like a long time until people start trying to murder you.
Then it becomes a countdown.
Agent Dana Cross wanted protective custody.
Matthew laughed in her face.
Catherine called it compromised.
Adrian said nothing.
I asked one question.
“Who can we trust?”
Nobody answered.
Exactly.
Brennan survived surgery.
That was the first good news.
The bullet missed his liver by less than an inch.
He remained unconscious under federal guard.
Whether federal guard meant safety was unclear.
The second good news was that Carla finally agreed to leave Chicago.
We put her on a plane under a new name.
She hugged me at the airport.
“I liked you better when our biggest problem was drunk truckers.”
“Me too.”
“You ever going back to waitressing?”
I looked at Matthew.
At Catherine.
At three federal vehicles around us.
“Probably not.”
Carla smiled.
“You were terrible at smiling for tips anyway.”
Then she left.
I cried after she disappeared through security.
Maybe because she was normal.
Maybe because I wanted normal.
Dana moved us to a government facility outside the city.
Daniel had been admitted under sealed identity to a military hospital.
My mother stayed with him.
Richard remained missing.
Reeves remained missing.
The Circle sent no messages.
That frightened Catherine most.
“Silence means factions are deciding.”
“What are they deciding?”
“Whether you’re controllable.”
“I’m guessing no.”
Matthew said, “Strong guess.”
We spent the next twelve hours learning how the reserve system worked.
I did not personally “have” thirty-eight billion dollars.
The funds were spread across trusts, companies, escrow accounts, sovereign bonds, foundations.
I controlled the master authorization.
That made me powerful.
And vulnerable.
“If I die?” I asked.
Catherine answered.
“Control passes according to succession vote.”
“To Adrian?”
“Or Matthew.”
Matthew frowned.
“I’m not Mercer blood.”
“No. But Circle charter recognizes Vale lineage.”
I looked at Catherine.
“Your family helped build it too.”
She nodded.
“My grandfather handled intelligence operations.”
Everybody’s grandfather apparently needed therapy.
“What do they want me to do?”
“Declare loyalty.”
“To the Circle?”
“Yes.”
“And if I refuse?”
“Forty-eight hours.”
Simple.
At hour thirty-four, we received the first offer.
A senator from Virginia.
Publicly respectable.
He wanted amnesty for “historic participants” in exchange for supporting me.
No.
A billionaire energy executive offered security.
In exchange for access to Circle infrastructure.
No.
A European banking family offered safe passage.
No.
By hour thirty, seven offers had arrived.
By hour twenty-eight, threats began.
Photographs of Daniel’s hospital.
My mother’s room.
Brennan’s recovery floor.
Carla’s plane.
They knew everything.
I felt trapped again.
Eight years old.
Three deadbolts.
Always counting exits.
Matthew found me on the facility roof.
“You need sleep.”
“You sound like a bad wellness app.”
He stood beside me.
Snow had started falling.
“You’re doing the counting thing.”
“What?”
“Windows.”
I had counted twelve.
He remembered.
“I never stopped.”
“I’m sorry.”
“That phrase is getting crowded.”
He looked over the fence.
“I used to think if I became powerful enough, nobody could scare me.”
“Did it work?”
“No.”
“What scared you?”
He looked at me.
“Finding you.”
That surprised me.
“Why?”
“Because if you were alive, I had to become fourteen again.”
The boy who betrayed us.
The boy who froze.
The boy paid twenty million dollars to become Richard’s son.
“I hated you yesterday,” I said.
“Efficient.”
“I still might.”
“Fair.”
“But I don’t think you’re him.”
“Richard?”
“Yes.”
Matthew looked away.
“I am more like him than you know.”
“Then change.”
He laughed softly.
“You make it sound easy.”
“No. I make it sound necessary.”
At hour twenty-four, the facility alarm triggered.
Not attack.
Visitor.
Brennan.
He had signed himself out against medical advice.
He entered in a wheelchair, pale and furious.
Matthew stared.
“You look terrible.”
Brennan said, “You look adopted.”
Matthew actually laughed.
Then hugged him.
Brennan stiffened.
“Careful. Bullet hole.”
“Right.”
I approached.
“You’re supposed to be in the hospital.”
“I dislike hospitals.”
“You got shot yesterday.”
“I noticed.”
Adrian followed behind him.
Catherine went still.
The brothers had apparently talked.
Not reconciled.
But talked.
Adrian placed Helen’s storage key on the table.
“We went.”
“What was there?” I asked.
“Everything.”
Boxes of documents.
Photographs.
Letters.
Helen had spent years investigating the Circle after hiding me.
One letter was addressed to Brennan and Adrian.
Another to me.
Brennan handed mine over.
Evie,
If you are reading this, then I failed to live long enough to explain what I should have told you years ago.
I did not save you because you were special.
I saved you because you were a child.
Never let powerful people convince you that blood, destiny, inheritance, or money makes your life worth more than anyone else’s.
If the Circle ever offers you a throne, remember that thrones are only chairs built above other people.
Stand up.
I read it twice.
Then a third time.
Stand up.
That was the answer.
Not ownership.
Not succession.
Not becoming the good queen of a criminal empire.
Destroy the throne.
“How?” Matthew asked after I showed him.
Catherine shook her head.
“You cannot dissolve the Circle.”
“Why?”
“Because it isn’t one company.”
“It has rules.”
“Yes.”
“Charter.”
She understood.
Her face changed.
“You want to invoke dissolution.”
“Is that possible?”
Adrian said, “Technically.”
Everyone looked at him.
He had been raised for succession.
He knew the bylaws.
“Founding families can trigger a global vote if three eligible successors agree.”
“How many successors are in this room?”
He pointed.
“Me.”
Matthew.
“You.”
Three.
Catherine shook her head.
“You would need access to the central assembly.”
“Where?”
Adrian hesitated.
“Chicago.”
Of course.
“Where?”
“The old Stock Exchange building.”
Matthew stared.
“That’s a landmark.”
“Not the public floors.”
Catherine closed her eyes.
“You knew?”
“No.”
Adrian continued.
“There’s a chamber beneath it.”
“Meeting when?”
“Tomorrow night.”
The end of the forty-eight hours.
“They’ll gather to choose whether to recognize or eliminate Evelyn.”
I smiled.
“Convenient.”
Matthew saw the look.
“No.”
“Yes.”
“You want to walk into a room filled with the most powerful criminals in the country.”
“Yes.”
“Again: you cannot solve everything by walking into traps.”
“It’s working surprisingly well.”
Brennan raised one hand weakly.
“I support her.”
Matthew glared.
“You’re medicated.”
“Still support.”
Catherine looked at Adrian.
“If the three of you invoke dissolution, what happens?”
“Every reserve account becomes frozen pending legal review.”
“Businesses?”
“Operating funds remain separate.”
That solved Helen’s warning.
Ordinary employees would not lose everything overnight.
Criminal reserves froze.
Evidence automatically released to designated oversight agencies.
Dana Cross stared.
“You’re telling me the founders built a dead-man mechanism?”
Adrian nodded.
“They feared internal takeover.”
Richard probably knew.
Reeves definitely knew.
Which meant they would stop us.
At hour six, we prepared.
No army.
No shootout plan.
Three successors needed to enter.
Me.
Matthew.
Adrian.
Catherine would stay outside with Dana.
Brennan was ordered to remain in bed.
He ignored everyone.
At hour two, my mother called from Daniel’s hospital.
Her voice was calm.
“Your father told me what you’re planning.”
“You’re angry?”
“No.”
“Scared?”
“Yes.”
“Good.”
She laughed softly.
“Evie.”
“Yeah?”
“I lost eighteen years with you because I believed I could outsmart monsters alone.”
I listened.
“Don’t make that mistake.”
“I’m not alone.”
“No.”
She paused.
“You have a very strange family.”
“That may be the nicest description.”
At midnight, we entered the underground chamber beneath the old Stock Exchange.
Two hundred people sat in curved rows.
Judges.
Executives.
Officials.
Criminals.
Some faces I knew from television.
At the center stood Commissioner Reeves.
Beside him:
Richard Valentine.
Alive.
Smiling.
Reeves looked at me.
“Evelyn Mercer.”
I walked forward.
“Alan.”
“You have one choice tonight.”
“No.”
I looked at Matthew.
Then Adrian.
They stepped beside me.
The room murmured.
I continued.
“We actually have three.”
Richard’s smile disappeared.
Adrian raised his voice.
“Under Article Nine of the founding charter, three eligible successors invoke dissolution review.”
Chaos erupted.
Reeves shouted, “Invalid!”
Matthew said, “Vote.”
The central screen activated.
Then Richard pulled a gun.
Not at me.
May you like
At Matthew.
He fired.
