“Leonard,” Grant said, “tell them about the emergency petition.”
Pike’s expression tightened.
“The petition has not been filed.”
“You said it would remove her from the apartment.”
“You told me you were the property owner.
You also told me there had been documented threats and that Mrs.
Mercer had agreed to temporary separation.”
“She is unstable.
Ask anyone.”
The housekeeper finally looked at him.
“I have never seen Mrs.
Mercer threaten anyone,” she said.
Grant turned so quickly that the gold watch on his wrist flashed beneath the window light.
“No one asked you, Rosa.”
Rosa’s face reddened, but she did not lower her eyes.
“You asked everyone when you brought us here to watch her leave.”
The sentence settled over the room.
Eleanor looked at the people Grant had arranged as an audience.
He had summoned the doorman, the housekeeper, his mistress, and his attorney because he wanted witnesses to her humiliation.
Now they were witnessing his.
The private elevator chimed again.
A broad-shouldered man in his sixties stepped into the penthouse carrying a red file.
Eleanor recognized him from company holiday dinners: Charles Wren, chairman of Mercer Systems.
Behind him came the company’s chief financial officer and two security officers.
Grant straightened.
“Charles, this is not a good time.”
“It is exactly the time,” Wren said.
He placed the red file beside Mrs.
Voss’s leather folder.
“Before we discuss the ownership of Mercer Systems, you need to explain the signatures in this file.”
Grant did not touch it.
Tessa’s face had gone pale.
Mrs.
Voss removed a second document from her folder.
“Eleanor, Hayes Meridian Holdings owns sixty-four percent of Mercer Systems through three investment entities.
Your grandmother’s trust provided the company with emergency capital six years ago, after its lenders refused further credit.
Additional shares were acquired during the following two recapitalizations.”
Eleanor stared at her husband.
Six years ago, Grant had come home one night carrying champagne.
He had lifted her from the floor and spun her around, shouting that a mysterious institutional investor had saved the company.
He had called it proof that powerful people believed in him.
Eleanor had believed in him too.
She had sold the small apartment her parents left her and put the money into their life together.
She had hosted clients, remembered spouses’ names, rewritten speeches, and sat beside Grant through nights when he was certain the company would fail.
All the while, her own inheritance had been keeping his business alive.
“You told me the investors were passive,” Grant said to Wren.
“They were,” Wren replied.
“Until the trust distributed.”
Grant looked at Eleanor with sudden calculation.
The cruelty left his face so quickly that it revealed how deliberate it had been.
“Ellie,” he said softly.
She had not heard that nickname from him in more than a year.
“This morning got out of control.
Tessa should not be here.
I was angry, and Leonard gave me bad advice.
