Chapter 3 - Blood and Headlines
Z
By 6:00 a.m. the following morning, the Mercer family scandal had completely eclipsed the story of the high school rescue.
It was the ultimate American tabloid nightmare: a teenage heroine who sacrificed her life to save eleven children from a gas explosion, pitted against a narcissistic grandmother and a deadbeat uncle who dismissed her survival as a burden—until the national spotlight offered them a taste of fame.
The screenshots Daniel had posted had gone viral, amassing over forty million views across various platforms overnight. The hashtag #HandleIt was trending nationwide, accompanied by thousands of brutal memes, rage-filled commentary, and calls to boycott Scott’s former business associates.
Inside room 412 of Harborview Medical Center, the morning sun broke through the gray Seattle fog. Lily was fully conscious now, propped up against a mountain of white pillows. Though she was exhausted and her voice was a raspy whisper due to the trauma to her vocal cords, the color was slowly returning to her face.
Senator Rebecca Chase had not left. She sat on the small couch in the corner of the room, her laptop open, working quietly alongside her chief of staff, Marcus Vance, a sharp-eyed attorney in a bespoke three-piece suit.
“Daniel,” Senator Chase said, stepping toward the bed with two steaming cups of coffee. She handed one to him and placed a soft hand on his shoulder. “I want you to meet Marcus. He’s my senior legal counsel. I’ve retained him on your behalf, entirely at my expense.”
Daniel looked up, bleary-eyed. “Senator, you don't have to do this. The hospital bills are going to be immense, but I have insurance, and I can sell my house if—”
“You aren't selling anything,” Senator Chase interrupted firmly. “Your daughter saved my eight-year-old son, Owen. She ran into a collapsing, gas-filled building while adults were running away. As far as I am concerned, you never have to worry about a medical bill or a legal fee for the rest of your life. But right now, you need protection. Patricia and Scott aren't going to go away quietly. They are ruined, Daniel. And ruined people are dangerous.”
Marcus Vance stepped forward, opening a leather binder. His expression was as hard as flint. “Mr. Mercer, as we speak, your mother and brother are feeling the economic backlash of their actions. By 4:00 a.m., three of the major investors in Scott’s proposed new sports lounge formally withdrew their funding, citing brand risk. By 5:00 a.m., the real estate firm where your mother worked as a consultant terminated her contract.”
Daniel blinked, stunned by the sheer speed of the collapse. “They brought this on themselves.”
“They did,” Marcus agreed. “But right now, they are backed into a corner. I’ve already filed an emergency petition for a temporary restraining order against both Patricia and Scott Mercer to keep them away from Lily, you, and your home. However, my investigators flagged something troubling an hour ago.”
Daniel leaned forward, his hands tightening around his coffee cup. “What is it?”
Marcus pulled a document from his folder and laid it on the bedside table. “When your wife, Sarah, passed away five years ago, she left behind a modest life insurance policy and a small family trust for Lily, correct?”
“Yes,” Daniel said, his brow furrowing. “Around two hundred thousand dollars. It was meant for Lily’s college fund. It’s held at First National Bank. I’m the primary executor, but because Sarah’s mother passed away years ago, Patricia insisted on being listed as a secondary contingent trustee back when Sarah was sick. She said it was just in case anything ever happened to me.”
Marcus nodded grimly. “Did you know that three weeks ago, a formal request was filed with First National to liquidate that trust and transfer the funds into a commercial account owned by ‘Scott Mercer Holdings LLC’?”
Daniel felt the room tilt. The air left his lungs in a sharp gasp. “What? No! I never signed anything! That money is untouchable until Lily turns eighteen!”
“Someone forged your signature, Mr. Mercer,” Marcus said coldly. “The bank was in the process of reviewing the paperwork when Lily’s accident happened. Patricia and Scott were trying to steal your daughter’s college fund to save Scott from going to federal prison for tax evasion.”
Lily, listening from the bed, let out a small, heartbreaking sob. Tears spilled over her lashes and ran down her pale cheeks. “Dad… Grandma tried to steal Mom’s money?”
Daniel stood up, his posture rigid, his fists clenching so hard his knuckles turned stark white. The sheer magnitude of the betrayal hit him like a physical blow. It wasn't just neglect. It wasn't just coldness. It was calculated, criminal parasitism. They had been bleeding him dry for years, waiting for the right moment to gut his daughter’s future.
Before Daniel could speak, the room door flew open.
Two heavy-set hospital security guards burst in, pushing back a wildly disheveled Patricia Mercer. She had bypassed the main lobby by taking the service elevator, her hair unkempt, her expensive makeup smeared, looking like a woman on the edge of complete insanity.
“Daniel!” Patricia screamed, her voice echoing down the sterile corridor. “You ruined us! Look at what you did to your brother! The news is outside his house! The police are auditing his accounts!”
“Get her out of here!” Senator Chase commanded, stepping between Patricia and Lily’s bed.
“Shut up, Rebecca!” Patricia shrieked, pointing a shaking, red-nailed finger at the Senator. “This is my family! Daniel, you listen to me right now! You are going to go downstairs and tell those cameras that those screenshots were a joke! You are going to tell them you made a mistake, or so help me God, I will destroy you! I know secrets about Sarah! I will tear your life apart!”
Daniel didn't flinch. He didn't yell. He walked past the security guards, stepping directly into Patricia’s personal space. Standing at six-foot-two, Daniel towered over his mother, his eyes burning with an icy, terrifying intensity she had never seen in him before.
“Touch my wife’s name,” Daniel whispered, his voice trembling with suppressed rage, “and I won't just let the press destroy you. I will personally hand the federal prosecutors the forged signatures you used to steal my daughter’s trust fund.”
Patricia’s breath hitched in her throat. Her eyes dilated with sudden, blinding terror. “How… how do you—”
“Get out,” Daniel said, his voice dropping to a deathly calm. “If you ever look at my daughter again, if you ever step within a hundred yards of us, I will ensure you die in a state penitentiary.”
The security guards seized Patricia by the arms, forcing her backward toward the service doors. She thrashed and screamed, her panicked cries fading down the hallway, leaving behind a heavy, breathless silence in room 412.
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Daniel turned back to his daughter, his heart aching as Lily reached her hands out toward him. He rushed to her side, gathering her small frame into his arms as she wept against his chest.
“It’s over, sweetie,” Daniel whispered into her hair, though deep down, he knew the darkest storm was only beginning.
