Chapter 2 - Rosa’s Photographs
The first photograph showed Noah standing alone in the corner of the breakfast room.
No toys.
No food.
His tiny hands pressed against the wall.
The timestamp read 8:17 a.m.
The second picture was taken forty-three minutes later.
Noah was still there.
Ethan’s stomach tightened.
“He stayed there that long?”
Rosa nodded.
“He wouldn’t eat eggs.”
Ethan swiped.
Another image.
Noah’s high chair had been moved away from the family breakfast table.
Another showed the metal bowl beneath the dining table.
Another showed a locked pantry door.
Ethan stopped.
“Why is this locked?”
“Your mother said he was sneaking snacks.”
“He’s two.”
“I know.”
Rosa’s voice broke.
“I kept food in my room.”
Ethan stared at her.
“You had to hide food from my mother to feed my son?”
“Yes.”
He covered his face.
Emily had warned him.
Before leaving for Boston to help her mother recover from hip surgery, Emily had said she did not want Noah staying at Mercer House.
Vivian criticized his eating.
His naps.
The fact that he still wanted to be carried when tired.
Ethan had dismissed it.
“It’s five days,” he told his wife.
“My mother raised two children.”
Emily’s reply returned now.
She raised you and Claire. That doesn’t mean she gets a third attempt.
Ethan had laughed.
He was not laughing now.
“Where are the trust papers?” he asked.
Rosa shook her head.
“I don’t know. I heard Mrs. Mercer and Miss Claire talking.”
“When?”
“Two nights ago.”
“About what?”
“They thought I was upstairs.”
Rosa described the conversation.
Claire had said:
If Ethan signs before the Halston vote, we don’t need to worry about the boy’s shares anymore.
Vivian replied:
He will sign. He’s exhausted. He doesn’t read anything when he’s traveling.
Ethan felt cold.
“What boy’s shares?”
Rosa looked confused.
“Noah?”
Ethan stood.
His son did own shares.
Not directly.
Arthur Mercer—Ethan’s father—had died eighteen months earlier. His estate created an irrevocable trust for Noah containing twelve percent of Mercer Table Brands, the family food company.
Ethan was trustee.
He voted the shares until Noah reached adulthood.
Claire held eight percent personally.
Vivian held thirty-three.
Ethan held twenty-seven.
Other relatives and trusts held the remainder.
The proposed $480 million Halston acquisition required seventy-five percent approval under the shareholders’ agreement.
Ethan opposed it.
His twenty-seven percent plus Noah’s trust block was enough to prevent the sale.
Claire and Vivian supported it.
Suddenly Rosa’s words made sense.
Ethan had received documents from Claire two days earlier.
She described them as routine delegation forms so the family office could handle administrative matters while he was overseas.
He had not signed.
He nearly had.
His phone buzzed.
Emily.
Ethan answered immediately.
“Where’s Noah?”
Her first question.
She had seen three missed calls.
“With me.”
“Why do you sound like that?”
Ethan looked at Rosa.
“At Mercer House.”
Silence.
“You’re home?”
“Early.”
“What happened?”
Ethan did not know how to say it.
“Mom was feeding him under the dining table.”
Emily said nothing.
Then:
“What?”
“He’s okay.”
“That is not what I asked.”
“I know.”
“What did she do to my son?”
Ethan closed his eyes.
He told her.
Not everything.
Enough.
Emily’s voice became dangerously calm.
“I’m coming home tonight.”
“I know.”
“Get him out of that house.”
“I will.”
“And Ethan?”
“Yes?”
“Do not let them convince you this is a misunderstanding.”
He looked at Rosa’s phone.
“It isn’t.”
After ending the call, Ethan carried Noah downstairs.
Vivian waited in the entry hall.
Claire beside her.
“You’re not taking him anywhere until we finish this conversation,” Vivian said.
Ethan almost laughed.
“He is my son.”
“He is also my grandson.”
“That does not give you custody.”
Vivian’s expression tightened.
“You are emotional.”
“Yes.”
“You’re destroying family relationships because you don’t understand what we’ve been dealing with.”
Ethan handed Noah’s overnight bag to Rosa.
“What are the papers?”
Claire froze.
Vivian did not.
“What papers?”
“The ones you expected me to sign before the Halston vote.”
Vivian’s face remained controlled.
“Business documents.”
“Concerning Noah’s trust?”
Claire intervened.
“They’re temporary.”
“What do they do?”
“Delegate administrative authority.”
“To who?”
“Me.”
Ethan looked at Vivian.
“Why?”
“Because you are constantly traveling.”
“I vote the trust shares.”
Claire’s expression shifted.
Only slightly.
But Ethan saw it.
“There it is.”
Vivian sighed.
“Ethan, nobody is stealing from Noah.”
“I didn’t say stealing.”
“You’re implying it.”
“What exactly would Claire be authorized to do?”
Neither answered.
Ethan took out his phone.
He called Miriam Sloan, the Mercer family attorney.
“Ethan?”
“I need you to answer one question.”
“Of course.”
“Did you prepare paperwork transferring my trustee authority over Noah’s shares to Claire?”
Silence.
“No.”
Vivian’s face changed.
Ethan continued.
“Have you seen such paperwork?”
“No.”
“Would I be able to delegate voting authority for a sale?”
“Not under Arthur’s trust without specific conditions and independent approval.”
Claire looked away.
Ethan’s pulse accelerated.
“So whatever they gave me didn’t come from you.”
“No.”
“Thanks.”
He ended the call.
Vivian said, “You are making this dramatic.”
Ethan walked toward the door.
“Rosa, come with us.”
Vivian snapped:
“She is not welcome back here.”
Ethan turned.
“That may become the least important thing you lose this week.”
For the first time, Vivian looked uncertain.
Ethan carried Noah outside.
Behind him, Claire whispered:
“Mom, he knows.”
Vivian answered:
“He knows nothing.”
But Ethan heard her.
May you like
And as he strapped Noah into the car seat, he made a decision.
By morning, he intended to know everything.
