Chapter 1: The Last Thing Money Could Buy
"The doctor gave my six-year-old twins ten days to live, but that afternoon a penniless woman appeared at my gates claiming she knew how to save them—and she knew a secret about their mother that no one should have known.
Ten days.
That was all the doctor believed my six-year-old twins had left, and for the first time in my life, all the money, guns, fear, and power attached to the Mercer name meant absolutely nothing.
By three that afternoon, while death waited inside my mansion, a penniless woman stood outside my gates refusing to leave—and I had no idea she was about to change everything.
Hours earlier, Dr.
Franklin Yates had stood beside me in the private medical suite of my Chicago estate.
Beyond the glass, Jonah and Blythe slept holding hands.
"We've pushed treatment as far as their bodies can take it," he said.
"Their blood counts aren't recovering."
I kept my eyes on my children.
"How long?"
His silence answered before his mouth did.
"Maybe ten days, Lawson."
Ten days.
I had watched powerful men tremble when I entered a room.
I had bought loyalty, crushed enemies, and built walls high enough to keep almost anyone out.
But I couldn't threaten leukemia.
When I stepped into the twins' room, Jonah slowly opened his eyes.
"Dad?"
"I'm right here."
Blythe stirred beside him.
Her voice was barely a whisper.
"Daddy, if I go first, can Jonah come with me?"
My chest locked.
I took her hand, careful not to squeeze those fragile fingers.
"Nobody's going anywhere."
She stared at me.
"Mommy went."
Genevieve.
Two years after burying my wife, I still couldn't hear that word without feeling the wound reopen.
Jonah tugged weakly at my sleeve.
"Can I sleep with Bly tonight?
So she isn't scared?"
"You can sleep anywhere you want."
By noon, breakfast sat untouched.
The mansion had gone unnaturally quiet.
Servants whispered.
Guards moved carefully through the corridors.
Outside stood twelve-foot walls, cameras, reinforced glass, hidden wire, weapons, and enough security to stop an army.
None of it could protect my children from their own blood.
At three that afternoon, Prescott Hale entered my office.
"She's still outside."
I looked up.
"Who?"
"The woman Odette mentioned.
The caregiver applicant."
"We're not hiring."
"I told her."
"Then remove her."
Prescott didn't move.
That bothered me.
"What is it?"
"She says she has nowhere to go.
No money.
No relatives.
Nothing except what she's wearing."
"That isn't my problem."
"There's something else."
His voice had shifted.
My phone sat beside reports warning that Crosby Vane's men had been spotted near my south fence.
Normally, that threat would have consumed my attention.
Now I barely glanced at it.
Prescott stepped closer.
"She knows about Jonah and Blythe."
I froze.
"What exactly does she know?"
He met my eyes.
"She says she knows they're dying."
The room seemed to close in around me.
My children's condition was guarded more carefully than most of my business secrets.
Doctors had signed agreements.
Staff had been warned.
Security controlled every entrance.
Almost nobody knew.
I stood.
"Bring her to me."
Prescott hesitated.
Then he said the words that made my bl00d run cold.
"Lawson, she says she didn't come here looking for a job."
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Who is this woman — and what does she know about Genevieve?
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