Daniel nodded.
“Certainly.”
Then he glanced toward the IT manager.
“Could you check Mr.
Mercer’s office?”
Gavin’s voice rose.
“You cannot search my office.”
Eleanor looked at him.
“Halston still has active due-diligence authority under the acquisition agreement you signed.”
“That doesn’t give you the right—”
His office door opened behind us.
The IT manager emerged carrying a small black flash drive.
Gavin’s face changed.
“I’ve never seen that.”
The IT manager looked uncomfortable.
“It was plugged into your desktop.”
Gavin stared.
“That isn’t mine.”
Daniel took it carefully.
“Perhaps not.”
Within twenty minutes, the serial numbers matched.
The drive used to place Halston’s confidential files on my laptop had been found connected to Gavin’s computer.
Gavin began shouting.
Someone had planted it.
Someone was setting him up.
I had done it.
Halston had done it.
The IT manager had done it.
By the time he accused the janitor, nobody believed anything he said.
Eleanor asked everyone except Gavin, Daniel, and me to leave the office.
Then she closed the door.
“Why?” she asked.
Gavin looked broken.
He sat heavily in his chair.
“I didn’t steal anything.”
Daniel placed the drive on the desk.
“Then explain that.”
Gavin covered his face.
For ten long seconds, he said nothing.
Then he whispered, “Field.”
I frowned.
“What?”
“My partner.”
The agency had originally been called Mercer & Field.
But I had never met Field.
Most employees hadn’t.
According to office legend, Gavin’s former partner, Richard Field, had retired years earlier and retained a minority stake.
Gavin looked at Eleanor.
“Richard wanted information about your acquisition offer.”
“Why?”
“Because he thought the valuation was too low.”
“So you gave him confidential documents?”
“I gave him access.”
Daniel’s face hardened.
“That is corporate espionage.”
Gavin slammed his fist against the desk.
“I was trying to protect my company!”
“Our company,” another voice said from the doorway.
We turned.
A man in his early sixties stood there.
Tall.
Silver hair.
Camel coat.
I had never seen him before.
But Gavin clearly had.
His face went white.
“Richard.”
Richard Field walked inside.
He looked at Gavin with disgust.
“You were trying to protect yourself.”
Gavin stood.
“What are you doing here?”
“Cleaning up your mess.”
Richard turned toward Eleanor.
“I received a call from your counsel.”
Then he looked at me.
“You must be Christopher.”
“Yes.”
He gave a grim smile.
“I’ve heard your name for years.”
“Hopefully not all bad.”
“Mostly from clients saying Gavin took credit for your ideas.”
Gavin snapped, “That’s enough.”
Richard ignored him.
Then came another revelation.
Richard still owned forty-nine percent of Mercer & Field.
He had not retired.
He had stepped away after years of fighting Gavin over how employees were treated.
And under their shareholder agreement, Gavin’s unauthorized transfer of confidential acquisition documents triggered a misconduct clause.
Richard could force Gavin out.
Gavin realized it at the same moment I did.
“No.”
Richard looked at him.
“Yes.”
“You can’t.”
“I can.”
“This is my company.”
Richard’s expression became painfully calm.
“It stopped being your company when you decided the people building it were disposable.”
Gavin looked toward me.
“Chris, tell him.”
I almost laughed.
“Tell him what?”
“That I gave you opportunities.
That I promoted you.”
“You fired me this morning.”
“That was a mistake.”
“No.”
I shook my head.
“It was a revelation.”
He stared at me.
Then Richard placed a document on the desk.
“Effective immediately, Gavin Mercer is suspended from all executive responsibilities pending investigation.”
Gavin read the page.
Then read it again.
The color disappeared from his face.
Less than six hours after firing me for stopping to help a stranger, Gavin lost control of the company he had treated as his kingdom.
But my satisfaction didn’t last.
Daniel’s phone rang.
He answered.
His expression shifted.
“Yes.”
He listened.
Then looked directly at Eleanor.
“When?”
Another pause.
“Are you certain?”
He ended the call.
“What now?”
Eleanor asked.
Daniel glanced at me before responding.
“The driver who called emergency services before Christopher arrived has been located.”
I frowned.
“I was the one who called.”
Daniel shook his head.
“Someone called ninety seconds before you.”
Eleanor’s face tightened.
“But nobody was there.”
“That’s the problem.”
He held up his phone.
“The caller reported Mrs.
Halston’s location before she collapsed.”
A cold silence filled the office.
I stared at Eleanor.
“What does that mean?”
Daniel answered.
“It means someone knew exactly where she would be.”
His expression hardened.
“And her collapse may not have been an accident.”
PART 5 — THE WOMAN I SAVED HAD BEEN FOLLOWED
Eleanor refused to go home.
Her attorneys wanted her surrounded by security.
Daniel wanted her at a private medical facility.
She wanted answers.
So we moved upstairs to a larger conference room while Halston’s security team reconstructed her morning.
At 6:40 a.m., Eleanor had left her estate.
At 7:10, she stopped at a bakery she had visited every Saturday for fourteen years.
At 7:35, she drove toward the office.
At 7:51, she pulled onto Route 18 after feeling dizzy.
At 7:53, she collapsed beside her vehicle.
At 7:54, I stopped.
The mystery was the earlier call.
Emergency records showed an anonymous caller had contacted dispatch at 7:51.
The caller said:
“There’s an elderly woman in distress near mile marker twenty-two.”
Then disconnected.
Eleanor hadn’t collapsed until almost two minutes later.
“How could anyone know?”
I asked.
Daniel looked toward her.
“Unless they were following you.”
Eleanor’s hands tightened around her coffee cup.
One of the attorneys spoke carefully.
“Doctors found nothing suggesting deliberate p/o/isoning or any obvious external cause.
Her episode was consistent with an underlying cardiac condition.”
“So maybe it was coincidence,” I said.
Daniel shook his head.
“Coincidences don’t usually know mile markers.”
Then Eleanor surprised everyone.
“My granddaughter knew my route.”
Daniel turned.
“Claire?”
Eleanor nodded.
“I told her last night I was going to the bakery before coming here.”
Daniel’s expression remained unreadable.
“Anyone else?”
“Claire’s husband.”
That name changed something in the room.
Marcus Vale.
Even I knew it.
Vale Development.
Luxury hotels.
Commercial towers.
Private clubs.
And, according to business pages, one of Halston Capital’s largest borrowers.
Daniel looked toward Eleanor.
“Mrs.
Halston, there is something you need to see.”
He connected his laptop to the conference screen.