Chapter 6 - The Siege of the Sanctuary
By 7:00 PM that evening, the tide had turned into a tsunami.
The WGN evening news broadcast aired the patio video in its entirety. The contrast between Gregory’s pathetic interview claiming elder abuse and the 4K footage of him violently striking an honors student after tearing up an MIT scholarship letter destroyed his public image within minutes.
The internet did what the internet does best: it demolished him.
Social media exploded with hashtags: #JusticeForEli, #BoycottGregoryMercer, and #ToxicGrandfather.
Local news crews surrounded the Mercer estate in Highland Park, not to interview a victim, but to demand answers from a man who had struck a child on camera.
I was sitting in the warm, quiet living room of my private home in Wilmette—a beautiful, gated stone residence miles away from the drama—watching Eli assemble a complex 3D-printed robotics engine at the dining table.
My home was my sanctuary. Only three people had the security code to the front gate: Arthur, Marcus, and Chloe.
At 8:30 PM, the outer security intercom chimed.
I walked over to the wall monitor. The camera feed at the front electronic gate showed a battered black sedan parked across the driveway entrance.
Standing in front of the camera, drenched from a sudden summer rainstorm, were Peter and Karen.
I pressed the intercom button. "You are trespassing on private property, Peter. Leave immediately."
Peter looked up at the camera, his hair plastered to his forehead, his face pale and desperate. "Lauren! Please! Open the gate! We don't have anywhere else to go!"
"You have your townhouse for another twenty-eight days," I said through the speaker.
"The news crews are outside our townhouse!" Karen shrieked into the camera, her mascara running down her cheeks. "People are throwing eggs at our car! They know Peter is the uncle who stood there and laughed when Dad hit Eli! Peter’s boss saw the video and suspended him without pay this afternoon!"
I watched them through the glass screen without a single flicker of pity in my heart.
"Actions have consequences, Karen," I replied softly.
"Lauren, please!" Peter sobbed, pressing his hands against the iron camera housing. "Dad has gone completely crazy! He’s locked himself in the estate library with a bottle of scotch! He’s burning all the old family photo albums in the fireplace! He says he’s going to burn the house down before he lets you take it!"
My eyes narrowed.
"What did you say?" I asked.
"Dad is burning the house down!" Peter yelled through the rain. "He set fire to the curtains in the study ten minutes ago! We tried to stop him, but he chased us out with a fireplace poker! We called nine-one-one, but the fire department isn't there yet! Lauren, all your grandfather's antiques are in that house!"
I didn't answer. I cut the intercom line, grabbed my coat, and turned to Eli, who was standing in the hallway, holding his robotics components.
"Eli," I said calmly. "Stay inside. Keep the doors locked. I'm taking the security detail to Highland Park."
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"Mom, is he going to ruin everything?" Eli asked softly.
I walked over, kissed his forehead, and looked him in the eye. "No, baby. He's just finishing what he started. And I'm going to make sure he pays for every single brick."
