Chapter 4 - THE BROTHER WHO KNEW TOO MUCHTommy Davies arrived at the mansion shortly after sunrise, escorted by two members of Declan's security team.
Clary ran down the staircase when she saw him.
“Tommy!”
Her brother stepped out of the car with his arm in a cast and a bruise fading along his jaw. He looked thinner than she remembered, but he was alive.
She threw her arms around him.
“You idiot,” she whispered, crying against his shoulder. “You absolute idiot.”
Tommy held her carefully.
“I know.”
“You scared me half to death.”
“I know.”
“You promised me you wouldn't gamble again.”
“I know, Clary.”
She pulled back and slapped his good shoulder.
“Stop saying that!”
For a moment, Tommy almost smiled.
Then he noticed Declan standing behind them.
His face went pale.
“That's him?”
Clary turned.
“Tommy—”
“The man whose people broke my arm?”
Declan didn't look away.
“Yes.”
Tommy moved in front of his sister despite his injured arm.
“Stay away from her.”
Two guards shifted, but Declan raised a hand to stop them.
“You have every right to hate me.”
“I don't need your permission.”
“No. You don't.”
Tommy stared at him, apparently confused by the lack of retaliation.
Declan continued.
“Your debt is frozen while we investigate. Nobody will collect another dollar from your sister. You'll receive medical care, and you'll remain here until we know you're safe.”
Tommy laughed bitterly.
“You expect us to trust you because you said some nice words?”
“No.”
“Good.”
“I expect you to watch what happens next.”
Clary touched her brother's sleeve.
“Please. We need to find out who's behind this.”
Tommy's expression changed.
“There's something you need to know.”
He looked at Declan.
“But not with your men listening.”
Declan dismissed the guards and led them into a private sitting room.
Tommy sat down carefully.
“Three months ago, I met a man at an underground poker game. He said he could help me make enough money to pay our rent. I thought he was just another gambler.”
“What was his name?” Declan asked.
“He called himself Mercer.”
Clary's fingers tightened around her brother's hand.
“Elias Mercer?”
Tommy nodded.
“He knew who I was before I introduced myself. He knew our mother had died. He knew Clary worked here.”
Declan leaned forward.
“What did he want?”
“At first, nothing. He gave me credit. Then he started asking questions about your father.”
“My father?”
“His old business partners. His enemies. Whether you had access to the original estate records.”
Declan felt the room grow colder.
“Why would he ask you about those things?”
“I didn't know. I thought he was trying to impress me. Then, after I lost the money, he said he could erase the debt if I did him a favor.”
“What favor?”
Tommy hesitated.
“He wanted me to steal a key from the mansion.”
Clary stared at him.
“You came here to steal from Mr. Knox?”
“I didn't know what the key opened!”
“What did you do with it?”
Tommy lowered his head.
“I never got it.”
Declan watched him closely.
“Why not?”
“Because the night I tried, someone caught me outside the east wing. I ran. Two days later, the collectors broke my arm.”
“You're saying Mercer arranged your debt to force you into stealing from me?”
Tommy nodded.
“He said the key was connected to something your father hid before he died.”
Declan rose and walked to the window.
His father had kept private records in a locked archive beneath the mansion. After his death, Declan had ordered the archive sealed because the contents involved decades of dangerous alliances.
Only three people had possessed access keys.
His father.
Arthur.
And Martin Hale.
One key had disappeared after the funeral.
Declan turned back.
“What did Mercer say about the archive?”
Tommy's voice dropped.
“He said the key would open a room containing evidence that your father had been murdered by his own family.”
Silence filled the room.
Clary looked from her brother to Declan.
“Your family?”
“My father was the head of the Knox empire,” Declan said. “My mother died years earlier. I have no siblings.”
Tommy shook his head.
“Mercer said family didn't always mean blood.”
A phone vibrated on the table.
It belonged to one of the guards outside.
Declan answered.
“What?”
The guard's voice was strained.
“Sir, we've got a problem. The surveillance system recorded someone entering the archive last night.”
“Who?”
“We're reviewing the footage now.”
Declan looked at Tommy.
“Tell me everything you remember about Mercer.”
Tommy swallowed.
“He had a scar beneath his left ear. And he said something I'll never forget.”
“What?”
“He said your father didn't die because he trusted the wrong enemy.”
Tommy looked directly at Declan.
“He died because he trusted the wrong son.”
Before Declan could respond, the guard returned with a tablet.
The security footage showed a man entering the archive.
The image was grainy, but the face was unmistakable.
May you like
Arthur Voss.
And he was carrying a key that should have been lost twenty years ago.
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