Chapter 3 - The Silver Watch
The diner went dead silent. Only the hum of the fluorescent lights and the sizzle of the grill in the back room remained.
Grant lunged to pick up the silver watch, but Ethan’s foot stepped over it first.
Ethan bent down and retrieved the heavy silver piece. He turned it over in his palm. It was unmistakably Emily’s. The intricate floral engraving on the back was slightly worn on the left side, exactly where her thumb used to rub it when she was nervous.
Ethan looked at Grant, his chest tightening. "You told me the hospital lost this."
Grant swallowed, his eyes darting nervously toward the door, then back to Ethan. "They did. I... I found it later. I hired a private investigator to track down the nurse who took it. I was going to surprise you with it."
It was a lie. Ethan knew men who lied for a living. He recognized the micro-expressions: the stiff jaw, the shifting weight, the rapid blinking. Grant was terrified.
But what puzzled Ethan more was Claire.
The waitress was staring at the watch as if she had just seen a ghost. Her breathing had grown shallow, her hands gripping the edge of her apron so tightly her knuckles were white.
"How do you know this watch?" Ethan asked, turning his intense gaze on Claire.
Claire looked from the watch to Ethan, then to Grant. She took a step back. "I... I don't. I just... it looked like one my grandfather used to own. I made a mistake."
She was lying, too.
Ethan felt the ground shifting beneath him. For two years, he had blindly trusted Grant. Grant was the grieving brother. Grant was the fun uncle. Grant was the only piece of Emily that Noah still had. But standing in this dingy diner, Ethan realized he was looking at two strangers.
Noah tugged on Ethan's sleeve. "Dad? Can we go home?"
Ethan looked down at his son. Noah’s eyes were wide, frightened by the tension radiating from the adults.
"Yes, buddy. We're going home." Ethan looked at Grant. "You are done for the day, Grant. Don't come to the house. I'll call you tomorrow."
"Ethan, be reasonable," Grant protested, stepping forward. "He ran out of my car. I was worried sick. You can't just cut me out because of a misunderstanding."
"I can do whatever I want," Ethan said softly. "Walk away, Grant."
Grant’s jaw tightened. He shot a venomous, panicked look at Claire—a look Ethan did not miss—before turning and storming out into the rain.
Ethan turned back to Claire. He reached into his jacket and pulled out a sleek, black business card. It had only a phone number and a single embossed 'M'.
"I don't know what just happened here," Ethan said quietly. "But I know what you did for my son before the shouting started. You saw him when I couldn't figure out how to. Thank you."
Claire didn't take the card. She just stared at it. "I don't want your money, Mr. Mercer."
Ethan froze. He hadn't given her his name. He was wearing a baseball cap and casual clothes. "How do you know who I am?"
Claire finally met his eyes, and the warmth she had shown Noah was entirely gone. It was replaced by a cold, hardened sorrow.
"Because my name is Claire Vance," she said. "My father was Arthur Vance. Two years ago, your company executed a hostile takeover of Vance Manufacturing. You liquidated our assets, fired three hundred people, and sold my father's patents for scrap. He had a heart attack two weeks later."
Ethan felt the air leave his lungs. Vance Manufacturing. It was a mid-sized aerospace parts company. He remembered the acquisition. It was ruthlessly efficient. A stepping stone in a much larger corporate merger. Just business.
"You're Ethan Mercer," Claire said, her voice shaking slightly but her gaze unwavering. "I know exactly who you are. And that watch..." She pointed a trembling finger at the silver piece in his hand. "That watch didn't belong to your wife. It belonged to my father. He was wearing it the day he died."
Ethan looked down at the silver watch.
He flipped it open. On the inside of the casing, where he expected to see a picture of him and Emily, there was a tiny, faded photograph of a little girl with brown hair.
It was Claire.
Ethan’s mind spun. Grant said this was Emily's. But Grant had lied.
Why did Grant Holloway have Arthur Vance’s pocket watch?
Ethan looked up, but Claire was already walking away, pushing through the swinging doors into the kitchen. Ethan stood frozen, the watch heavy in his hand, a terrifying puzzle forming in his mind.
May you like
He pulled out his phone. He dialed his head of security.
"I need a full background check," Ethan said into the receiver, his eyes locked on the kitchen doors. "On Grant Holloway. I want every bank statement, every call, every movement for the last two years. And do it quietly."
