Chapter 4 - The Legal Storm Begins
The next morning, the financial world of Chicago woke up to a digital earthquake. The headlines did not mention my medical condition due to a strict privacy embargo, but the business pages were filled with one shocking story: "Vanguard-Sterling Terminates Capital Contracts with Mercer Logistics; Shares Plummet 75% in Pre-Market Trading."
In her holding cell at the Cook County jail, Patricia Mercer sat on a metal bench, her beige trench coat stained and wrinkled. She had been denied bail due to the high-profile nature of the charges and the flight risk posed by her documented gambling debts in Macau.
Her husband, Richard Mercer—Julian’s father—slammed his briefcase onto the table in the visitor's room. He looked ten years older, his tie crooked and his face red with anger. Julian sat next to him, looking hollowed out.
"Do you have any idea what you've done?!" Richard roared through the glass at Patricia. "The board of directors just fired me! The banks are calling in our personal mortgages! We are losing the house, the cars, the firm, everything! Why did you push her, Patricia?! Why did you hide that damn card?!"
Patricia pressed her face against the glass, her eyes wide with a manic, desperate energy. "Richard, she lied to us! She’s a billionaire! She sat at our dinner table and let me call her a beggar while she was sitting on a mountain of money! She set us up! She wanted to humiliate us!"
"She didn't set you up, Mother!" Julian shouted, burying his face in his hands. "She just didn't tell us who her family was. She wanted a normal life. And you tried to kill her! You tried to kill my son!"
"She's not one of us, Julian!" Patricia hissed, entirely unrepentant. "She’s a snake! You need to go to her. Cry at her bedside. Tell her you love her. She's a soft-hearted girl, she always was. If you beg her, she will drop the charges and make her father restore our credit lines. You have to save us, Julian! Use the baby!"
Julian looked up at his mother, a sudden wave of disgust washing over him. For the first time in his life, the blindfold had been ripped away. He saw her for what she truly was: a greedy, malicious monster. "Use the baby? My son is currently hooked up to breathing tubes because of you. I am not going to beg her, Mother. I'm going to save myself."
Julian stood up and walked out of the visitation room, ignoring his father's shouts and his mother's screams.
Meanwhile, back at Sterling Grace Medical Center, I was wheeled down to the NICU for the first time. Dr. Sterling himself escorted my bed, ensuring that an entire security detail guarded the corridor.
Through the clear glass of the incubator, I saw him. My son. He was so incredibly tiny, his skin translucent, with little wires attached to his chest and a tiny continuous positive airway pressure (CPAP) mask covering his nose. But his little chest rose and fell with a steady, determined rhythm.
I reached my hand through the sterile rubber portals of the incubator and gently touched his foot. He was no bigger than my palm, but the moment my finger brushed his skin, his tiny toes curled around my nail.
"His name is Leo," I whispered, tears of joy streaming down my face. "Leo Sterling. He doesn't carry the Mercer name. He never will."
May you like
"He has the Sterling strength, Clara," my father said, standing behind me and placing a comforting hand on my shoulder. "The legal team has already filed the expedited divorce papers on the grounds of extreme physical cruelty and attempted homicide. We are also filing for sole, uncompromised custody with zero visitation rights for the Mercer family."
"Good," I said, my gaze never leaving my son. "Let them fight it. They don't have the money left to hire a decent lawyer anyway."
