Chapter 3 - Grant’s Password
Grant did not sleep that night.
Lucy remained in the hospital for observation.
Emily refused to go home without him.
Helen left after giving police her statement.
She did not ask Grant for transportation.
She called her sister.
That hurt more than he expected.
At 2:00 a.m., Grant sat beside Lucy’s hospital crib while Emily slept on the couch.
Detective Cooper’s words repeated in his mind.
The credentials belonged to you.
Grant’s security account controlled the mansion.
Cameras.
Gates.
Smart locks.
Climate systems.
Emergency alarms.
Vanessa had her own profile.
So did Helen, with limited permissions.
Why use his?
At dawn, Grant called his cybersecurity director, Aaron Mills.
“This has nothing to do with Mercer Urban.”
“It does now,” Grant said. “My personal credentials may be compromised.”
Aaron arrived at the mansion at seven with an independent forensic technician.
Grant insisted on independence.
No internal IT staff.
No loyal employee who might unconsciously protect the boss.
By nine, they found the login.
Grant’s credentials had been used from a tablet inside his home office.
At 11:42:03, someone disabled archiving for the staircase camera.
At 11:43:18, Emily’s screen capture showed Vanessa pushing Lucy.
Grant stared.
“I was in Manhattan until eleven twenty.”
Aaron nodded.
“The tablet never left the house.”
“Vanessa knows my password.”
“Apparently.”
Grant felt embarrassed.
His password had been the same for nearly four years.
Emily’s birthday followed by an exclamation point.
Vanessa could have guessed it.
Then Aaron found something else.
The same credentials had been used at night on eleven separate occasions during the previous four months.
“What did they access?”
“Security-camera archives.”
“Which cameras?”
Aaron opened the list.
Staff corridor.
Kitchen.
Nursery hallway.
Grant’s office.
Garage.
“Can you tell what they watched?”
“Some.”
Grant saw a pattern.
Almost every session involved Helen.
Helen entering his office to clean.
Helen speaking with Emily.
Helen carrying Lucy.
Helen opening a drawer in the kitchen.
Vanessa had been monitoring the maid.
Grant remembered Helen’s frightened expression at the hospital.
I know enough to be scared.
He called her.
No answer.
He called again.
Voicemail.
Then a message arrived.
MR. MERCER, I WILL SPEAK THROUGH AN ATTORNEY.
Grant stared at it.
Helen had never called him anything except Mr. Mercer.
Yet today the formality felt different.
A wall.
He deserved it.
By afternoon, Vanessa had been released after questioning without immediate charges while prosecutors reviewed evidence.
Her attorney issued a statement.
Mrs. Mercer categorically denies intentionally endangering her daughter. The brief video circulating among investigators lacks context and may not accurately reflect the mechanical failure that occurred.
Mechanical failure.
Grant watched Emily’s clip again.
Vanessa’s hands.
The push.
No ambiguity.
Then Vanessa called him.
He almost rejected it.
Instead he recorded the time and answered.
“Grant.”
“What do you want?”
“I want to explain.”
“Start.”
“The stroller brake failed.”
“You pushed it.”
“I tried to stop it.”
“The video shows both your hands moving forward.”
“You’re seeing three seconds.”
“Then what happened in the thirty seconds before?”
Silence.
“You disabled the camera.”
“No.”
“You used my password.”
“No.”
“You knew my password.”
“So does half your staff.”
“No, they don’t.”
Vanessa’s voice hardened.
“You want this to be simple because you feel guilty about hitting Helen.”
Grant gripped the phone.
“Don’t use what I did to her to erase what you did to Lucy.”
“I’m not.”
“You blamed Helen before you even checked whether our daughter was breathing.”
Vanessa went quiet.
Then she said something unexpected.
“Helen was supposed to be fired yesterday.”
Grant frowned.
“What?”
“She was stealing.”
“Stealing what?”
“Documents.”
Grant stood.
“What documents?”
“From your office.”
“Why didn’t you tell me?”
“I was trying to prove it first.”
Grant remembered the security logs.
Vanessa watching Helen enter his office.
“What did she take?”
“Ask her.”
Grant’s voice lowered.
“You pushed our daughter down a staircase to frame a maid for stealing paperwork?”
Vanessa inhaled sharply.
“That isn’t what happened.”
“Then tell me what did.”
“I can’t.”
“Why?”
“Because if I tell you, you will do exactly what Helen wants.”
“What does Helen want?”
Vanessa paused.
“To destroy our family.”
The call ended.
Grant stared at the phone.
Vanessa had accused Helen of theft.
Helen was afraid to speak directly to him.
Somewhere between those facts was a reason Vanessa had been watching a maid for four months.
Grant walked into his home office.
He opened every drawer.
Nothing looked disturbed.
Then he noticed the lowest filing cabinet.
A thin strip of masking tape had been placed over one keyhole.
Helen used small pieces of tape when labeling boxes.
On it, in tiny handwriting, were three words.
May you like
CHECK LUCY’S TRUST.
Grant’s blood went cold.
