Chapter 5 - The Secret Jude Mercer Kept
I spent two days in the hospital.
No fractures.
Severe bruising.
Dislocated shoulder.
Three stitches in my lip.
Jude visited exactly once.
At midnight.
Naturally.
He walked into my room carrying coffee.
"You're not supposed to bring that in here."
"I own part of the hospital."
I stared at him.
"Of course you do."
He almost smiled.
Then he placed an envelope beside me.
I immediately frowned.
"If that's money—"
"It's not."
Inside was a letter.
Paid medical leave.
Full salary.
Counseling if I wanted it.
And a promotion.
I looked up.
"Head of household operations?"
"You know the staff better than Peter ever did."
"I have one functioning arm."
"The other one will recover."
"I didn't finish college."
"I didn't ask."
"Jude."
He leaned against the window.
"You've worked inside my home for three years. You know every schedule, vendor, employee, and security weakness."
"Apparently not every security weakness."
His expression darkened.
"That was my failure."
"No."
"Yes."
I stared at him.
"Why are you doing this?"
He looked away.
For the first time, Jude Mercer seemed uncomfortable.
"My mother worked as domestic staff."
I blinked.
Nobody knew much about Jude's childhood.
"She cleaned houses?"
"Hotels."
He looked toward Manhattan.
"When I was eleven, a guest hurt her."
My breath caught.
"Jude..."
"Management paid her to stay quiet."
His voice remained controlled.
"She took the money because we needed rent."
Suddenly I understood.
The fury.
The locked doors.
Peter's dismissal.
His insistence that everything happen publicly.
"What happened to the man?"
Jude looked at me.
"I grew up."
That answer told me enough.
I didn't ask again.
He picked up his coat.
"Think about the job."
"You're leaving?"
"It's midnight."
"You arrived at midnight."
"Exactly."
I smiled despite my stitches.
He reached the door.
"Jude?"
He turned.
"Thank you."
His expression softened.
"You shouldn't have needed me."
"No."
I looked down at my sling.
"But I'm glad you came."
He stood there for several seconds.
Then quietly said, "So am I."
---
Three months passed.
The criminal case moved forward.
Bryce's father attempted to distance himself publicly from his son.
Senator Crawford announced Tyler was cooperating.
Ethan Caldwell accepted responsibility and became a key witness.
Peter Vaughn pleaded guilty to charges related to bribery and conspiracy.
And I accepted Jude's offer.
Running Mercer House was terrifying.
I loved it.
On my first morning, Jude found me changing the staff schedule.
"You're in my chair."
I looked down.
I was sitting behind his breakfast-room desk.
"You weren't using it."
"It's my chair."
"Would you like me to move?"
He considered it.
"No."
That became our strange routine.
Coffee.
Arguments.
Work.
Sometimes dinner when meetings ran late.
Jude never touched me without permission.
Not my shoulder.
Not my hand.
Not even when we stood too close.
Months after the attack, that mattered more than he probably understood.
One rainy evening, I found him alone on the terrace.
"You'll ruin your suit."
"I have others."
"How many?"
"Enough."
I stood beside him.
"Trial starts Monday."
"I know."
"I'm scared."
He looked at me.
"Good."
I frowned.
"That's comforting."
"Fear keeps people alert."
"Is that what you tell yourself?"
"Frequently."
I laughed.
Then I realized he was staring.
"What?"
"Nothing."
"You're terrible at lying too."
He looked away.
I touched his hand.
Jude froze.
It was almost funny.
The most feared man in New York looked frightened because I was holding his hand.
"Audrey."
"Yes?"
"If you're doing this because you think you owe me—"
"I'm not."
"If it's gratitude—"
"It isn't."
His eyes returned to mine.
"Then what is it?"
I smiled.
"You'll figure it out."
And walked inside.
May you like
Behind me, Jude Mercer muttered something I'd never heard before.
A curse directed entirely at himself.
