Daphne
For three years, I was Julian Mercer’s trophy girlfriend.
Pretty, good at spending money, and apparently good for nothing else.
Even his own sister, Sophia Mercer, said I probably wouldn’t last a week without the Mercer family.
I never argued.
After all, three years ago, I was the controlling shareholder and chief investment officer of North Shore Capital.
Every day, I oversaw billions of dollars in investments. I worked myself into the hospital with a bleeding ulcer.
Now I didn’t have to go to work or sit through meetings. I slept in every day, and I had Julian’s black card to swipe whenever I wanted.
Why would I ever leave a life like that?
Then several investment firms joined forces to short Mercer Group stock.
Julian’s father was forced to step down. His two older brothers got pulled into an investigation over international money transfers. And the banks all tightened credit at the same time.
Even Julian, who could usually handle anything, had no choice but to negotiate.
Across the table, the opposing party slid an acquisition agreement toward him.
If he signed, the company his family had controlled for generations would end up in someone else’s hands.
Then the man across the table glanced at me and smiled.
“Don’t worry, Mr. Mercer.
“When you can’t afford to keep her anymore, I’ll be happy to take over.”
The man held out a card. Julian snapped it in two, right then and there.
He was about to sign away his remaining shares just to ensure my safe release.
I watched him lower the pen and stayed silent for a long time.
What if this family went under?
Where else would I find a man so generous, so eager to please, and so willing to give me a black card with no spending limit?
So one second before he signed, I put my hand over Julian’s and dialed a number I hadn’t called in three years.
“Cut off all future funding from North Shore Capital to these funds.
“And one more thing.
“Effective immediately, buy up every senior bond issued by Mercer Group that you can get your hands on. I want those people finished.”