Chapter 2 - The Architect of Vengeance
Ten years passed.
Ten years of eighty-hour workweeks, cold ramen dinners, and relentless, calculated ambition. While Cole rode the coattails of Dad’s shrinking business in our hometown, I founded Mercer Architectural & Development Group in the heart of downtown Seattle.
I didn't just design buildings; I bought the land beneath them. I specialized in ultra-luxury high-rises and high-end commercial properties. By thirty-nine, my net worth had crossed into nine figures. I lived in an era of steel, glass, and absolute control.
My crowning achievement was The Apex Penthouse—a 12,000-square-foot triplex sitting atop the newest glass tower in downtown Seattle. It boasted private elevator access, 360-degree views of the skyline, floor-to-ceiling smart glass, and an automated security matrix that required biometric clearance for every entry point.
I had cut all ties with my family years ago. I changed my personal phone number, blocked their email addresses, and ignored the occasional desperate message from distant cousins.
Until one Tuesday afternoon, when my executive assistant, Clara, knocked on my office door.
"Mr. Mercer," Clara said, holding a tablet. "There's an issue with the registration of the penthouse keys at the building concierge. Someone presented a notarized power of attorney claiming to be your mother, demanding master access cards."
I froze, setting down my pen. "My mother?"
"Yes, a Mrs. Eleanor Mercer," Clara replied. "She was accompanied by a man named Cole Mercer and a woman who identified herself as his wife. They told the front desk that you were 'temporarily incapacitated' and that they were moving in to manage your estate under the 'Family Real Estate Consolidation Act.'"
A cold, dark laugh escaped my throat. After a decade of silence, after treating me like trash on a kitchen floor, they had tracked down my name on a public property registry and decided to help themselves to my life.
"Clara," I said calmly. "Call Vance Sterling, my head of legal counsel. Tell him to meet me at the penthouse in thirty minutes. And call Security Chief Raymond. I want a four-man tactical detail at the private elevator."
May you like
"Right away, sir," Clara said.
I stood up, buttoned my tailored charcoal suit jacket, and straightened my tie. Ten years ago, I left their house with blood in my mouth. Today, they were walking into my dragon's den.
