Chapter 3 - The Price of Truth
The next morning, the pressure began to mount.
By noon, two police officers arrived at the Bristol cottage, presenting a warrant to search the premises for "stolen historical assets" belonging to the Mercer Foundation. Though Julian’s lawyers blocked them from entering the main house without a more specific court order, the message was clear: Vivienne was going to use every legal and social weapon in her arsenal to crush them.
Worse, Naomi called Mara in tears.
"Mara, they fired me," Naomi sobbed over the phone. "Not just from the catering company—the owner said Vivienne Mercer called him personally. He said if he didn't blackball me from every agency in Rhode Island, she would pull her funding from his husband's charity. I can't pay my rent next month, Mara. I don't know what to do."
"I will cover your rent, Naomi. I will cover everything," Mara said, her heart breaking for her sister. "This is my fault. I’m so sorry."
"No, it's not your fault," Naomi said, her voice turning fierce. "She’s a monster. Don't let her win, Mara. Don't let her make you hide."
After hanging up, Mara walked into Julian’s home office. He was on the phone with his financial advisor, his face pale.
"What do you mean, frozen?" Julian asked into the receiver. "The trust was set up by my grandfather. She shouldn't have the authority to—" He paused, listening to the reply, before closing his eyes. "I see. She exercised the morals clause. Fine."
He hung up and looked at Mara. "She’s cut off my access to the main family accounts. My personal investments are still intact, but she’s frozen my capital. She’s trying to starve us out."
"She wants an annulment," Mara said quietly. "She wants me to sign a paper saying I lied, in exchange for clearing my name and restoring your inheritance."
Julian stood up, walking over to her and taking both her hands in his. "I would rather live in a studio apartment and work three jobs than spend another second pretending to be a Mercer under her thumb. We don't need her money, Mara. But we do need to protect your reputation and Naomi’s future."
Mara looked down at her hands, then at the uneven, blunt cut of her hair. A strange, quiet strength settled over her. She remembered the late-night hours she had spent in the dusty basement of the Mercer Foundation, cataloging the Carroway archive. She remembered the journals, the receipts, and the private ledgers she had digitized.
"Julian," Mara said, her voice steady. "Vivienne thinks she is untouchable because of the Carroway archive. She told the board that the acquisition was a philanthropic gift to the city. But it wasn't."
Julian frowned. "What do you mean?"
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"The Carroway family didn't donate those archives," Mara explained, a sharp spark of determination in her eyes. "Vivienne blackmailed them. The patriarch of the Carroway family had a gambling debt to a holding company owned by Vivienne's brother. She forced them to sign over the entire historical collection—which is worth millions—to avoid public ruin. And I have the digital scans of the original, unredacted contract she forced them to sign, hidden on my personal drive."
Julian’s face transformed from worry to a slow, dark smile. "The very foundation she is using to destroy you is built on a crime. Let's show the board what their chairwoman is really made of."
