Chapter 6: Harrison Arrives
Nora Vance arrived by early evening — she had driven from her sister's house in Montpelier, two hours north, without hesitation, a leather document bag over her shoulder and the particular focused calm of someone who had spent fifteen years turning other people's worst days into winnable cases.
She sat across from Clare and Eleanor in the back room of Parker Pine Books, the documents spread on the table between them, the USB drive plugged into Eleanor's laptop.
She didn't speak for a long time.
When she did, she said: "He filed the enforcement action fourteen months ago?"
"That's what Diane Reeves told us," Clare said.
"And the original will — the true filing — is with Gerald Foss, timestamped before the version Harrison used?"
"Yes."
Nora looked at the email chain.
At the folder labeled *Containment strategy.* At Harrison's own message about the pregnancy window.
"He wrote that himself," she said.
"From his personal account."
"Yes."
"That's not a mistake a careful man makes." She sat back.
"That's a man who never imagined anyone would find the drive."
"He didn't know the drive existed," Eleanor said.
"My father never told him."
Nora nodded slowly.
"Okay.
Here's where we are." She counted on her fingers.
"The NDA Eleanor signed is challengeable on grounds of coercion and material misrepresentation — Harrison's team withheld the existence of the original will filing when they presented the agreement.
Eleanor didn't have independent legal counsel.
That alone is significant." She moved to the next finger.
"The enforcement action they filed is based on the fraudulent version of the will.
Once we present the original filing, that action collapses." Another finger.
"The emails and the recordings constitute evidence of a deliberate, multi-year scheme to deprive Eleanor of her inheritance.
That opens a separate cause of action." She lowered her hand.
"And the fact that they timed the enforcement around Clare's pregnancy — using an unborn child as a legal instrument without the mother's knowledge — that is something a judge is going to find very difficult to look at calmly."
The bookstore was quiet around them.
The snow had stopped outside.
"What do we do first?" Clare asked.
"First, I call Gerald Foss tonight and we coordinate the original will filing for first thing after the holiday.
Second—"
The front door of the bookstore opened.
All three of them turned.
Harrison Mercer stood in the doorway.
He was still in his wool coat, the one he had been wearing when he left the apartment the night before.
His hair was damp from the snow.
He looked at Clare first, then at Eleanor, then at Nora, then at the documents on the table.
His face went through several things very quickly.
"Clare." His voice was careful.
"You need to come home."
"No," Clare said.
"You're thirty-one weeks pregnant.
You've been traveling all day.
Whatever you think you've found—"
"Sit down, Harrison," Nora said.
He looked at her.
"Who are you?"
"Nora Vance.
I'm Clare's attorney." She gestured to the empty chair across the table.
"Sit down."
Harrison didn't sit.
He stepped further into the room, his eyes moving over the table — the documents, the laptop, the USB drive still plugged into the side.
He saw the drive.
Something shifted in his face.
"Where did you get that?"
"Your father left it for Eleanor," Clare said.
"That's not—" He stopped.
Started again.
"That drive contains confidential business communications.
You have no legal right—"
"We have every right," Nora said.
"The drive was left to Eleanor Parker by William Mercer as part of his estate.
Along with the original will, which Gerald Foss has held in trust for three years." She folded her hands.
"The will your attorneys used to draft the NDA was not the document your father filed.
I think you already know that."
Harrison looked at Eleanor.
"You should have taken the settlement," he said.
"It was a fair offer."
Eleanor met his gaze.
"It was your offer," she said.
"For something that was never yours to offer."
"The company would have been destroyed.
The board—"
"The board would have adjusted," Nora said.
"That's what boards do.
What they won't easily adjust to is the email chain on that drive, which includes your personal correspondence about a containment strategy for your father's daughter." She paused.
"And your instructions to delay legal action until after your wife gave birth."
Harrison's eyes moved to Clare.
She held his gaze and said nothing.
"Clare." His voice dropped.
"Whatever you think this looks like—"
"I know what it looks like," she said.
"I know what it is."
"You're upset.
You found out about Sienna, you're emotional, you drove three hundred miles in the snow—"
"Don't." The word came out very quiet.
"Don't tell me what I'm feeling."
He took a step toward her.
Nora stood up.
"Mr.
Mercer." Her voice was not loud.
It didn't need to be.
"You are welcome to have your attorneys contact my office starting the twenty-sixth.
Until then, I'd suggest you leave."
Harrison stood very still.
He looked at the drive one more time.
Then he looked at Clare — a long look, the kind that used to mean something, the kind she used to reach for.
"This isn't what you want," he said.
"You don't know what I want," Clare said.
"You never asked."
The door closed behind him.
None of them moved for a moment.
Then Eleanor reached across the table and covered Clare's hand with hers.
Clare's breath came out in a long, unsteady wave.
"He'll call his attorneys tonight," Nora said.
"I know," Clare said.
"So will I." Nora was already reaching for her phone.
"Get some rest.
Both of you.
Tomorrow we start."
Outside, Harrison's car reversed out of the parking space and disappeared into the dark.
May you like
The brass key sat on the table between the documents.
Clare picked it up and closed her fingers around it.
