Chapter 13: The Second Account

I didn't sleep much that night.

The message kept running through my head.

Ask Grant about the second account.

By morning, I had made a decision.

I wasn't going to ask Grant anything.

Not yet.

If someone was warning me, I needed to know why.

I started with the records my lawyer had obtained.

The second account wasn't registered in Grant's personal name.

It belonged to a company called Harlow Strategic Holdings.

I had never heard of it.

But when I searched the registration records, I found something familiar.

The registered address was an office building I recognized.

It was the same building where Grant's company had maintained an office before moving downtown.

I called my lawyer.

“I found the second company.”

“Harlow Strategic?”

“Yes.”

He was quiet for a moment.

“I was about to call you about that.”

My stomach tightened.

“What is it?”

“We traced several transfers from Grant's company into Harlow Strategic. Then the money moved from Harlow into Piper's consulting company.”

I stared at the screen.

“So Harlow is the middleman.”

“That's what it looks like.”

“Who owns it?”

“That's where things get complicated.”

He sent me a document.

I opened it.

The listed owner wasn't Grant.

It wasn't Piper either.

It was a man named Daniel Mercer.

The name meant nothing to me.

“Who is Daniel Mercer?” I asked.

“We're checking.”

I looked at the transaction dates again.

The first transfer had happened eight months ago.

The same month Piper moved into the guesthouse.

The same month Grant suddenly started talking about how difficult it would be for me to keep working and managing the house.

The same month he started insisting that I needed to slow down and let him handle the finances.

I had thought he was worried about me.

Now I wondered if he had been trying to make me step away from everything.

My lawyer called again.

“June, there's one more issue.”

“What now?”

“Daniel Mercer is a former business associate of Grant's.”

I sat up straight.

“Former?”

“Yes. They were involved in a failed investment several years ago.”

“Did Grant owe him money?”

“Possibly.”

The pieces were beginning to form a picture.

Grant's company had been sending money to a company owned by his former associate.

That company had been sending money to Piper.

And at the same time, Grant had been preparing documents to take control of my house.

But I still didn't know why.

That afternoon, I received another email from my lawyer.

Attached was a copy of an old business agreement between Grant and Daniel Mercer.

I read through it carefully.

Then I saw a clause that made my hands go cold.

Grant had personally guaranteed part of Daniel's investment.

If the investment failed, Grant would be responsible for the debt.

The agreement had been signed six years ago.

The debt had apparently become active again two years later.

And according to the latest records, Grant still owed a substantial amount.

I leaned back in my chair.

So this wasn't about Piper alone.

Grant had financial problems he had never told me about.

And instead of dealing with them honestly, he had apparently started moving money through different companies.

I forwarded everything to my lawyer.

“Can Grant's creditors come after my house?” I asked.

“Not if the property is solely yours and there is no valid lien against it.”

I exhaled.

“Then why was he trying to get me to sign it over to Sadie?”

There was a pause.

“That may be the question we need to answer first.”

That evening, I sat on my apartment balcony and watched the Chicago skyline turn gold.

For twelve years, I had believed Grant's biggest flaw was cowardice.

He couldn't commit.

He couldn't make difficult decisions.

He couldn't stand confrontation.

But this was different.

This required planning.

It required lies.

And it required him to believe I would always clean up whatever he broke.

My phone rang.

Unknown number.

I answered without speaking.

A man's voice came through.

“June?”

“Who is this?”

“My name is Daniel Mercer.”

My entire body went still.

“Why are you calling me?”

He took a breath.

“Because Grant is about to make you believe this is all about his marriage.”

I gripped the edge of the table.

“It isn't?”

“No.”

His voice lowered.

“Your house is the only thing he thinks can save him.”

Before I could ask another question, the call ended.

I stared at the phone.

Then another message appeared.

This time, it wasn't from an unknown number.

It was from Grant.

June, we need to talk.

I know you're angry, but there are things you don't understand.

Please come back to Savannah.

I read the message twice.

For the first time, I understood what Grant was really asking.

He wasn't asking me to come home because he missed me.

He was asking me to come home because he was running out of options.