Chapter 3 - Mid-Air Turbulence
Thirty thousand feet above the Atlantic Ocean, the Mercer family bliss shattered.
Nathan sat in first class, a glass of champagne in hand, his arm draped around the blonde woman—Elena Vance, the daughter of the very pharmaceutical executive whose data he had been altering. To Nathan, Elena was his ticket to international elite status. To Elena, Nathan was a wealthy, unencumbered bachelor doctor.
Diane Mercer sat across the aisle, adjusting her silk sleep mask. "Nathan, darling, tell the flight attendant to bring another bottle of the Krug. This seat is entirely too cramped."
Nathan smiled, flagging down the attendant. "A bottle of the vintage champagne on my corporate card, please."
A few minutes later, the flight attendant returned, her expression polite but strained. "I'm sorry, Dr. Mercer. The transaction was declined. We tried running it through our primary and secondary terminals."
Nathan chuckled, a flash of irritation crossing his handsome face. "That's impossible. Try it again. It's a premium corporate line."
"We tried three times, sir. It says 'Account Restricted by Judiciary Order.'"
Diane froze, pulling off her mask. "What does that mean?"
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Nathan pulled out his personal phone, switching on the high-priced in-flight Wi-Fi. The moment his device connected, a cascade of over eighty notifications flooded his screen. Alert: Accounts Frozen. Alert: Subpoena Delivered to Mercer Medical Consulting. Alert: Mortgage Default Warning.
And at the very top of the list, a single email from a secure address. The sender was Cassandra Mercer. The subject line read: The Floor Just Moved.
