Mercer
936 Words
The rest of the drive passes in silence, but the air inside the car feels different now. Heavier.
Like Elias left something behind in the backseat with me.
The city slowly thins outside the tinted windows, towering buildings giving way to quieter streets drowned in rain and silver light. My phone stays dark in my hand. No follow-up text. No explanation.
Just one name circling endlessly in my head.
Evelyn.
I almost ask the driver if he knows who she is.
But something stops me.
Because if Ronan trusted this man enough to drive me home, then anything I say probably reaches him before morning.
And somehow, I’m certain Ronan would know exactly why I asked.
The realization settles cold and uneasy beneath my ribs.
By the time the sedan pulls up outside my apartment building, the storm has intensified. Rain crashes against the pavement hard enough to blur the streetlights into pale halos.
The driver steps out immediately, umbrella already open as he moves to my door.
“Thank you,” I murmur automatically.
“Goodnight, Miss Bennett.”
Then he’s back inside the car and pulling away from the curb without another word.
I stand there for a second longer, rain misting against my skin as the taillights disappear into the storm.
And that’s when another realization hits me.
No one associated with Ronan Voss does anything without a reason.
Not employees.
Not rivals.
Not Elias Mercer.
And definitely not Ronan himself.
•••
My apartment feels unnaturally quiet after the storm.
I lock the door behind me, shrug out of my damp coat, and instantly regret being alone with my thoughts.
The contract sits half-hidden inside my bag on the kitchen counter like something alive.
Waiting.
I stare at it from across the room.
Then at my phone.
Then back at the contract again.
This is insane.
Every instinct I have is telling me to walk away before whatever this is gets worse.
But another thought keeps slipping beneath the panic.
If Elias hates Ronan that much…
What happened between them?
And who the hell is Evelyn?
Thunder rattles softly against the windows.
Before I can stop myself, I pull my laptop closer and type two words into the search bar.
Ronan Voss.
The results appear instantly.
Finance articles. Acquisitions. Interviews. Corporate profiles. Photos of him beside politicians, investors, celebrities.
Always composed.
Always untouchable.
But further down the page, something catches my attention.
An older article.
Three years ago.
The headline alone makes my stomach tighten.
VOSS INDUSTRIES EXECUTIVE FOUND DEAD AFTER INTERNAL INVESTIGATION
My pulse stutters.
I click the article open.
The piece is short. Clinical. Carefully polished.
A senior executive named Daniel Hart was found dead in his home shortly after allegations of financial misconduct surfaced within Voss Industries. Authorities ruled the death a suicide. The investigation closed shortly afterward.
Corporate language.
Clean and detached.
But near the bottom of the article, buried beneath legal statements and public comments, a single line stops me cold.
Sources close to the company reported Hart had been working directly under Evelyn Vale prior to his death.
I stop breathing for a second.
Evelyn.
Heart pounding now, I search the name separately.
Evelyn Vale.
Far fewer results appear this time.
Old gala photos. Charity events. Corporate fundraisers.
And in every single image, she’s beside Ronan.
Close enough to make my stomach twist.
Not just professional.
Personal.
She’s beautiful in a sharp, effortless kind of way. Dark hair. Calm eyes. The kind of woman people look at twice.
But it’s the dates that make my pulse start climbing.
Because three years ago, Evelyn Vale disappears completely.
No interviews.
No appearances.
Nothing.
Like she stopped existing overnight.
A chill crawls slowly across my skin.
Then my phone vibrates violently against the table.
I jump hard enough to nearly knock it onto the floor.
Unknown Number.
Again.
My pulse slams against my ribs as I answer carefully.
“Hello?”
Silence.
Then—
“What did I tell you about digging?”
My entire body locks.
Ronan.
His voice is calm.
Too calm.
“How did you—”
“Because I know you.”
The words hit harder than they should.
Not a question.
A fact.
Ice floods my veins as I move instinctively toward the window, scanning the street below even though I know I won’t see anything.
“You’re watching me?”
A soft exhale sounds through the line.
“No, Nova.”
That somehow feels worse.
Then, quieter:
“You’d be surprised what people reveal when they think no one’s paying attention.”
Fear and adrenaline twist together violently in my chest.
Before I can stop myself, the question slips out.
“Who is Evelyn?”
Silence.
Long enough that I think he might not answer at all.
Then finally...
“I see Mercer decided to involve himself.”
“That doesn’t answer my question.”
“No,” Ronan says softly. “It doesn’t.”
Thunder rolls outside, low and heavy.
I tighten my grip on the phone.
“Did something happen to her?”
Another pause.
Then—
“Yes.”
The single word drops into my stomach like a stone.
Before I can speak again, Ronan continues.
“But not the way Elias wants you to believe.”
My heartbeat pounds so hard I can hear it.
“What does that mean?”
For the first time since the call started, something shifts in his voice.
Not anger.
Not irritation.
Something darker.
Regret.
“It means,” Ronan says quietly, “Elias Mercer is the reason Evelyn is gone.”
- Writer
