Chapter 5 - THE MAN AT THE BOARD TABLE
Elias Voss arrived at Mercer International on December 26 at 8:04 a.m.
Emily knew because Julian texted her exactly four words.
He is in the building.
She stared at the message.
Then typed:
Do not punch him.
Three dots.
Roman? No. Julian.
Julian replied:
Your confidence in me inspires.
Emily:
Do not threaten him either.
Julian:
Now you are unreasonable.
She laughed.
Then immediately stopped because laughing at a mafia boss’s texts felt like an alarming life choice.
Emily spent that morning with a detective named Mara Chen.
Financial crimes.
Sharp eyes.
No patience for Julian’s reputation.
Emily liked her instantly.
Detective Chen asked why Emily mattered.
“I don’t.”
“That’s rarely true once threats start.”
Emily explained the music box.
The dinner.
The restaurant connection.
Blue Crest.
Chen listened.
Then:
“Did Mercer pay you?”
“No.”
“Offer?”
“No.”
“Employment?”
“No.”
“Protection?”
“Security downstairs.”
“Requested?”
“Yes.”
“Good.”
Emily noticed the question.
Chen was assessing control.
Whether Julian was drawing Emily into dependence.
She appreciated it.
“Do you think he killed people?”
Chen asked.
Emily nearly choked.
“What?”
“You met him.”
“I had dinner.”
“That isn’t an answer.”
“I don’t know.”
“Good.”
Emily frowned.
“Why good?”
“Because people who decide powerful men are angels after one dinner become bad witnesses.”
Fair.
Meanwhile Julian sat across from Elias Voss in a glass conference room forty floors above Manhattan.
Later, Anthony told Emily what happened because she had become, against all logic, part of the evidence timeline.
Elias was forty-one.
Blond.
Perfect suit.
Soft-spoken.
The kind of man who remembered assistant birthdays and sent expensive baby gifts.
He hugged Julian.
Actually hugged him.
“Merry Christmas.”
Julian returned it.
Barely.
“How was Zurich?”
“Cold.”
“Lily?”
“Good.”
“I have presents for her.”
Julian looked at him.
“Of course.”
Elias smiled.
“You look terrible.”
“No sleep.”
“Christmas?”
“Something like that.”
The board meeting began.
Julian behaved normally.
Claire’s warning remained hidden.
Outside forensic accountants were presented as routine year-end compliance review.
Elias objected immediately.
Not dramatically.
Professionally.
“Redundant expense.”
Julian leaned back.
“Humor me.”
“You hate duplicated controls.”
“I’m evolving.”
Elias laughed.
Nobody else did.
The auditors requested Blue Crest vendor documentation.
Elias’s hand stopped moving.
Only for half a second.
Julian saw.
Anthony saw.
The meeting ended two hours later.
Elias remained.
“Julian.”
“Yes?”
“What is this?”
“What?”
“The audit.”
“An audit.”
“Don’t.”
Elias closed the conference-room door.
“You don’t bring in outsiders without telling me.”
“Apparently I do.”
“We’ve worked together twenty-nine years.”
“Thirty.”
Elias smiled faintly.
“You remembered.”
Julian stared.
Of course he remembered.
That was the problem.
Elias continued.
“Is this about old family accounts?”
“No.”
“Victor?”
“No.”
“Then?”
Julian almost said Claire.
He did not.
Instead:
“Insurance requested vendor review.”
Lie.
Clean.
Elias studied him.
Then nodded.
“Fine.”
Too easy.
As he left, Elias said:
“I’d like to take Lily skating this week.”
Julian’s entire body went cold.
“She’s busy.”
Elias stopped.
“Since when?”
“Since she became seven and discovered opinions.”
A smile.
“Claire’s daughter.”
Julian’s jaw tightened.
“Yes.”
Elias left.
Julian did not move for a full minute.
Then called Anthony.
“Every visit he ever had with Lily.”
“We already started.”
“Cameras.”
“Yes.”
“School pickups.”
“Yes.”
“House access.”
“Julian.”
“What?”
“We will.”
Julian breathed.
“Okay.”
That afternoon, Emily received a package.
Accounting textbook.
She stared.
No sender name needed.
Inside:
Intermediate Accounting.
A sticky note:
THREAT FULFILLED.
—J
Emily laughed.
Then discovered a second item.
A coffee gift card.
No amount visible.
She called Julian.
“How much?”
“What?”
“The card.”
“Coffee.”
“How much?”
“Enough.”
“I’m returning it.”
“Emily.”
“How much?”
Silence.
“Five hundred.”
She nearly screamed.
“Who spends five hundred dollars on coffee?”
“You said mine was terrible.”
“I am returning it.”
“Fine.”
He sounded amused.
She kept the textbook.
Returned the card through Daniel.
At five, Sarah visited.
Her coworker from Bell & Rowan.
She brought wine and fury.
“Howard is lying.”
Emily looked up.
“About?”
“Your suspension.”
Sarah had worked as hostess there for three years.
She heard management talking.
Someone from ownership requested Emily be removed specifically.
Not because Mercer entered the restaurant.
Because “she may have accessed internal records.”
Emily stared.
“What internal records?”
“Exactly.”
Sarah took out her phone.
A photograph.
Bell & Rowan’s office printer tray.
Invoice.
BLUE CREST HOSPITALITY — CONSULTING SERVICES.
Monthly payment:
$48,000.
For what?
No idea.
Sarah whispered:
“There’s more.”
Bell & Rowan hosted private dinners every second Thursday for executives.
Closed dining room.
No regular servers.
Blue Crest paid.
Emily’s stomach tightened.
“Who attends?”
“I don’t know.”
“Howard?”
“Yes.”
“Owner?”
“Sometimes.”
“Elias Voss?”
Sarah went still.
“You know that name?”
“Yes.”
Sarah searched her phone.
She had taken guest-list photos occasionally to remember allergies.
One list.
E. VOSS.
Emily stopped breathing.
Elias had been using Bell & Rowan for private meetings.
The restaurant Lily randomly entered.
Maybe not random.
But why would Lily have recognized Emily?
She did not.
Emily had not known Elias.
Still, the location tied together.
Emily sent the photo to Detective Chen.
Not Julian first.
Julian later.
Good.
Chen investigated.
Bell & Rowan may have been used to facilitate Blue Crest business meetings.
Not illegal itself.
But it explained rapid access to Emily’s employment information.
Someone saw photographs of Emily leaving Mercer’s car, then used the restaurant’s ownership network to punish her.
The intent was intimidation.
That night, Julian called.
“May I come over?”
Emily froze slightly.
“Why?”
“To return something.”
“What?”
“Your music box.”
Investigators had finished physical examination.
No additional hidden compartments.
Emily looked at her tiny apartment.
Laundry chair.
Dishes.
No.
Then:
“Yes.”
He arrived twenty minutes later.
Alone.
Mostly.
Security stayed outside.
Emily took the box.
“Thank you.”
“It belongs to Lily.”
“I told her I was borrowing it.”
“She insists you keep it until New Year’s.”
Emily smiled.
“Of course.”
Julian remained near the door.
“You can sit.”
“Are you sure?”
“Yes.”
He sat.
Emily made coffee.
He drank it without complaining this time.
“Elias asked to see Lily.”
Emily stopped.
“What did you say?”
“No.”
“Good.”
“I wanted to kill him.”
Emily slowly put down the spoon.
“Julian.”
“I said wanted.”
“Past tense?”
“Mostly.”
She sat opposite.
“Do you believe he killed Claire?”
“Yes.”
“Evidence?”
“No.”
“Then you believe because?”
“Because he threatened her.”
“Yes.”
“Because he hid financial crimes.”
“Yes.”
“Because her crash happened eleven days later.”
“Yes.”
“Still not proof.”
His jaw tightened.
“I know.”
“Good.”
Julian looked toward the window.
“Do you know what is difficult?”
“Many things.”
“Being told by a woman I met forty-eight hours ago that I am behaving irrationally.”
Emily smiled.
“You’re welcome.”
He looked at her.
Then:
“Claire would have liked you.”
Everything in Emily froze.
“No.”
His expression changed.
“I didn’t mean—”
“Don’t.”
She stood.
“Please don’t make me part of her.”
“I’m not.”
“You said that because I argue with you.”
“Yes.”
“She argued with you.”
“Yes.”
“That is comparison.”
Julian stood too.
“You’re right.”
Emily stopped.
Again.
He continued.
“I’m sorry.”
The apology was immediate.
No defense.
That mattered.
Emily exhaled.
“Thank you.”
Julian looked toward the music box.
“I’m still learning how to talk about her without making every woman near me part of the absence.”
That sentence softened something inside Emily despite her resistance.
“You loved her.”
“Yes.”
“Then keep loving her.”
He looked at Emily.
She continued.
“I’m not competing with someone who died.”
“I would never ask you to.”
“We’re not anything anyway.”
A pause.
“No.”
The word came quietly.
Too quietly.
Emily looked away.
Danger.
Not physical.
Exactly the kind she feared on Christmas Eve.
Warmth close enough to miss afterward.
Julian’s phone rang.
Anthony.
He answered.
Listened.
His face changed.
“What?”
Then:
“Send it.”
He ended the call.
Emily waited.
“The forensic auditors found Blue Crest’s owner.”
“Elias?”
“No.”
“Who?”
Julian looked almost confused.
“My mother.”
Emily stopped breathing.
“Teresa?”
“Yes.”
“That doesn’t make sense.”
“No.”
“Does she know?”
“I don’t know.”
His phone buzzed.
Corporate formation document.
BLUE CREST LOGISTICS LLC.
Beneficial owner listed through trust:
TERESA MARIE MERCER.
Emily stared.
Either Julian’s mother had secretly built the criminal network Claire discovered—
May you like
Or someone had used her identity.
And if Teresa was the legal owner, investigators were about to look directly at Julian Mercer’s seventy-two-year-old mother as the person behind the scheme that may have killed his wife.
