“My wedding has been interrupted because she concealed a pregnancy.”
I looked into the camera.
“Your wedding was interrupted because you charged it to the company.”
Silence.
Grant’s eyes narrowed.
“That is false.”
Lydia slid a document toward me.
I held it up.
“Invoice number MM-88214. Lakefront Grand Ballroom. Description: Clinical Innovation Summit. Six hundred eighty-two thousand, four hundred dollars.”
Walter removed his glasses.
Another director leaned toward her screen.
Grant’s image froze for a second as the car moved through a low-signal area.
When it returned, he was no longer looking at me.
“Those expenses were reimbursable.”
“By whom?”
“Strategic partners.”
“Name one.”
He did not answer.
Walter turned to the audit committee chair.
“Ms. Cho?”
Patricia Cho spoke with the careful tone of someone reading from prepared notes.
“The audit committee received documentation at three-eighteen this afternoon. Preliminary review indicates company funds were used for wedding deposits, travel for private guests, jewelry purchases recorded as client recognition, and consulting payments to Shaw Advisory Group.”
Grant interrupted.
“Vanessa’s firm provides legitimate services.”
“Then legitimate work product should exist.”
“It does.”
“Our investigators have not found it.”
“It’s confidential.”
“From the audit committee?”
Grant leaned back.
The car’s interior light cast shadows beneath his eyes.
I could hear Vanessa whispering.
He covered the phone microphone.
They argued for several seconds.
Then he returned.
“This is a coordinated attack.”
Walter folded his hands.
“The question before the board is whether to place Mr. Mercer on administrative leave pending an independent investigation.”
“You can’t do that.”
“The board can.”
“I hold twenty-two percent.”
“The Continuity Trust holds thirty-eight.”
“My mother controls eleven.”
A new square appeared on the screen.
Evelyn Mercer joined the meeting from what looked like her library.
Grant’s mother was sixty-eight and still wore her white hair in the same smooth bob she had worn when I first met her.
She had not visited me during the pregnancy.
She had sent no message after the divorce.
But she had called Lydia two hours after Nora was born.
Evelyn looked directly at Grant.
“You do not have my votes.”
Grant stared.
“Mother.”
“I have reviewed the invoices.”
“You don’t understand what’s happening.”
“I understand that your father’s company paid for Vanessa’s wedding dress.”
Vanessa’s voice came from off camera.
“That is not true.”
Evelyn looked toward the sound.
“Then perhaps you should join the meeting and deny it on the record.”
Vanessa became silent.
Grant’s expression shifted between disbelief and fury.
“Claire has manipulated all of you.”
Evelyn’s eyes moved to my square.
For a moment, her face softened.
“Let me see her.”
I knew she meant Nora.
I turned the laptop slightly.
The bassinet appeared on screen.
Nora was awake, moving one hand beneath her blanket.
Evelyn covered her mouth.
Tears filled her eyes, but she did not look away.
“She looks like Thomas,” she whispered.
Grant closed his eyes.
Evelyn lowered her hand.
Then her voice became steady again.
“I vote in favor of administrative leave.”
Patricia Cho voted next.
Then Walter.
Then four more directors.
Grant watched each vote appear on the screen.
The total reached sixty-nine percent.
His twenty-two percent could not save him.
Walter announced the result.
“Effective immediately, Grant Mercer is suspended as chief executive officer and removed as an authorized signer on all Mercer Meridian accounts pending investigation.”
Grant leaned toward the camera.
“You are making a catastrophic mistake.”
Walter did not react.
“Security has been instructed to suspend your building access.”
“You’re removing me because my ex-wife had a baby?”
“No,” Walter said. “We are removing you because the baby exposed financial conduct you expected nobody to question.”
The distinction landed.
Grant looked at me.
I did not smile.
Victory did not look the way movies promised.
There was no music.
No rush of triumph.
Only the quiet realization that a man who had once controlled nearly every part of my life had just lost the ability to charge his next decision to someone else.
Walter moved to the second resolution.
Appointment of an interim chief executive.
Patricia Cho nominated me.
I declined.
Grant laughed once.
It was a bitter sound.
“Even Claire knows she can’t run the company.”
“I already ran it,” I said. “I am declining because I gave birth this morning.”
Patricia nominated Miguel Santos as interim chief financial officer and Walter as acting executive chairman.
Both resolutions passed.
Before Walter adjourned the meeting, I raised my hand.
“One more matter.”
Grant stared at me.
I placed the secured loan agreement on the table.
“Mercer Meridian owes the Rowan Family Trust four-point-eight million dollars plus accrued interest. The loan matured when the company violated its financial conduct covenants.”
Grant shook his head.
“You waived that.”
“I waived payments during our marriage. I did not waive the debt.”
“This is extortion.”
“This is accounting.”
Lydia leaned into the camera.
“Ms. Rowan is willing to defer collection provided Mercer Meridian preserves all electronic records, vendor communications, fertility-benefit files, and executive expense documentation from the past five years.”
Vanessa spoke from the car.
“Fertility files?”
Grant looked toward her.
I watched both of them.
Neither reaction appeared rehearsed.
Grant seemed confused.
Vanessa looked terrified.
Lydia continued.
“The company must also suspend all payments to Shaw Advisory Group.”
Walter nodded.
“That condition is accepted pending review.”
Grant reached for the phone.
The screen shook.
“What are you looking for, Claire?”
I held his gaze.
“The truth.”
“You already got your revenge.”
“This is not revenge.”
“What do you call taking my job, my shares, and my wedding on the same day?”
“Consequences.”
His mouth tightened.
“You think you’ve won?”
“No.”
I looked at Nora.
“I think she survived her first day in your family.”
Then I ended the call.
By evening, photographs of Grant and Vanessa leaving the hospital had appeared online.
Someone had captured Vanessa in her wedding dress, standing beneath the maternity ward sign while Grant argued with security.
The image spread faster than any official statement.
Wedding guests began leaving the ballroom before the flowers were fully arranged.
Reporters gathered outside Mercer Meridian’s headquarters.
The company issued a short announcement confirming Grant’s administrative leave but made no mention of Nora.
That silence created more speculation than a statement would have.
By seven o’clock, three different headlines claimed Grant had abandoned his wedding for a secret child.
By eight, Vanessa’s father released a statement calling the situation a “private family misunderstanding.”
By nine, the Lakefront Grand filed a payment demand for the unpaid wedding balance.
At nine-fifteen, Grant called me.
I let it ring.
At nine-twenty, he called again.
At nine-thirty, he sent a message.
We need to talk without lawyers.
I read it twice.
Then I placed the phone facedown.
At ten, he sent another.
I did not know about the letters.
At ten-oh-seven:
Vanessa says she gave them to legal.
At ten-twelve:
Legal says they never received them.
At ten-eighteen:
Claire, please tell me what fertility files you mentioned.
That message confirmed what I needed to know.
Grant did not know about the embryos.
Or he was a better actor than I remembered.
I forwarded the messages to Lydia.
Then I slept for forty-three minutes before Nora woke.
The next morning, Evelyn Mercer arrived carrying no flowers.
That surprised me.
During our marriage, Evelyn brought flowers to every hospital room, funeral, birthday dinner, and apology.
She believed flowers could make difficult things look graceful.
Instead, she carried a plain brown grocery bag.
“I brought soup,” she said.
I studied her face.
She looked older than she had on the board call.
The skin beneath her eyes was swollen.
Her coat was buttoned incorrectly.
Evelyn Mercer never buttoned anything incorrectly.
“You can come in,” I said.
She stepped inside and stopped when she saw Nora.
For several seconds, she did not speak.
Then she set the bag down and washed her hands at the sink.
She did not ask to hold the baby.
That mattered.
She waited.
I watched her dry her fingers on a paper towel.
“You may sit beside us,” I said.
She moved slowly toward the bed.
Nora was awake.
Evelyn lowered herself into the chair and looked at her granddaughter.
“She has Thomas’s brow.”
“Grant said the same thing.”
“Grant sees his father whenever he is afraid.”
I glanced at her.
She touched one finger to the edge of Nora’s blanket.
“May I?”
I placed Nora in her arms.
Evelyn inhaled sharply.
Her hands trembled.
But when she held the baby, her posture changed.
She became careful.
Present.
Nora opened her mouth, then settled against Evelyn’s chest.
“I should have called you,” Evelyn said.
“Yes.”
“I should have asked whether you were all right.”
“Yes.”
“I believed Grant when he said you wanted a complete break.”
“He told everyone what made his life easiest.”
“I knew that about him.”
The admission hung between us.
I looked toward the window.
The rain had stopped, leaving the buildings sharp against a pale sky.
“Then why did you believe him?”
“Because believing him allowed me to avoid choosing.”
I turned back.
Evelyn’s eyes stayed on Nora.
“Thomas spent years cleaning up Grant’s mistakes,” she said. “After Thomas died, I told myself Grant had changed. I told myself grief had matured him. Then he brought Vanessa to my house three weeks after you moved out and called her his future.”
“He brought her that soon?”
“I asked where you were. He said you had become bitter and unpredictable.”
I almost smiled.
“Those are useful words. They make every question sound dangerous.”
“I should have come to see you.”
“Yes.”
“I was ashamed.”
“Of Grant?”
“Of myself.”
Nora made a soft sound.
Evelyn adjusted the blanket beneath her chin.
“I knew about the trust,” she said.
I watched her carefully.
“How much?”
“I knew the shares would move when a great-grandchild was born. Thomas would not tell me who the protector was.”
“Did Grant know?”
“He knew a descendant clause existed. He believed the trust had been invalidated after your second miscarriage.”
My stomach tightened.
“Why would he believe that?”
“Vanessa introduced him to an attorney who said the trust violated the rule against perpetuities.”
“Which attorney?”
“Daniel Voss.”
I knew the name.
Voss represented the bank financing Grant’s failed share acquisition.
He also appeared on three documents related to the embryo withdrawal request.
“Did Thomas ever meet him?”
“No.”
“Did you?”
“Once.”
“When?”
“Last December.”
“Where?”
“At Vanessa’s apartment.”
I stared at her.
Evelyn looked up.
“I did not know it was her apartment when I arrived. Grant said we were meeting potential investors.”
“What happened?”
“Voss presented papers transferring my voting rights to a family holding company.”
“Did you sign?”
“No.”
“Why not?”
“Because Thomas taught me never to sign a document when someone is pouring champagne before noon.”
Despite everything, I laughed.
Evelyn’s mouth curved faintly.
Then the expression disappeared.
“Vanessa became angry,” she said. “Not openly. She never becomes angry in ways witnesses can describe. She simply stopped pretending the meeting was about anything else.”
“What did she say?”
“That Grant needed control before the next generation complicated matters.”
My pulse slowed.
“What exact words?”
Evelyn looked at Nora.
“She said, ‘Once Claire is permanently out of the family, there won’t be a next generation to worry about.’”
I felt the room narrow around us.
“Permanently?”
“That word bothered me.”
“Did you ask what she meant?”
“She said she meant the divorce.”
“Did you believe her?”
“No.”
Nora began fussing.
I took her back and held her against my shoulder.
Evelyn watched me.
“There is something else,” she said.
“Tell me.”
“Grant’s father kept a private archive.”
“Thomas kept records of everything.”
“Not at the company. At our house in Lake Forest.”
“I thought you sold that house.”
“I did.”
“To whom?”
“A holding company.”
“Which one?”
“I didn’t know until yesterday.”
She reached into her handbag and gave me a folded property report.
The buyer was North Vale Residential LLC.
The registered manager was Vanessa Shaw.
I read it twice.
“Vanessa bought your house?”
“With money transferred from a Mercer Meridian consulting account.”
“Does Grant know?”
“I asked him last night. He said the property had been sold to a developer.”
“Why would Vanessa want the house?”
Evelyn looked toward the door before answering.
“Thomas’s archive is still inside.”
“Why?”
“Because there is a room behind the wine cellar that was never included in the listing.”
“You left it there?”
“Thomas sealed it before he died. I did not have the combination.”
“Grant?”
“He knew the room existed. He did not know what was in it.”
“But Vanessa bought the house.”
“Yes.”
“Last December?”
“Two weeks after the meeting with Voss.”
The timeline settled into place.
The trust.
The house.
The forged resolution.
The attempted embryo withdrawal.
Vanessa had not entered Grant’s life merely because she wanted a wealthy husband.
She had entered a family system full of hidden leverage.
She understood where the pressure points were.
And someone had taught her.
“Does Grant know you came here?” I asked.
“No.”
“Keep it that way.”
Evelyn nodded.
I handed the property report to Lydia when she arrived an hour later.
She read it without speaking.
“We need access to the house,” I said.
“It belongs to Vanessa’s company.”
“Then we obtain a warrant or an injunction.”
“On what basis?”
“Misappropriated company funds.”
“That may take time.”
“How much?”
“Days, if the judge sees urgency. Weeks, if Voss fights.”
“We don’t have weeks.”
“You think the archive connects to the embryos?”
“I think Vanessa bought a house she had never lived in because something inside mattered more than the property.”
Lydia folded the report.
“I’ll contact the audit committee.”
“Not yet.”
“Claire.”
“If the company sends investigators, Vanessa will know.”
“She probably already knows we are reviewing her.”
“Reviewing invoices is different from searching Thomas’s private archive.”
“What do you suggest?”
I looked at Evelyn.
“Does the house still have the old security system?”
“Yes.”
“Who installed it?”
“Thomas.”
“Who maintained it?”
“Mercer Meridian’s facilities team.”
Lydia understood.
“If the system is company-owned equipment, the audit committee may have a right to inspect it.”
“And if the control panel logs a concealed room?”
“We can establish the room exists without entering the property.”
Evelyn shook her head.
“The panel won’t show it.”
“Why not?”
“Thomas built the room before the security system was installed.”
I looked at her.
“How do you know where the entrance is?”
“I watched him close it.”
“Can you open it?”
“No. But I know another way inside.”
Lydia stared at her.
Evelyn adjusted one cuff.
“There is an old coal delivery passage behind the east garden wall.”
“You have a hidden tunnel into your former house?” Lydia asked.
“It was built in 1912. Wealthy people were less subtle then.”
I looked down at Nora.
I had been a mother for less than twenty-four hours.
My body ached.
My stitches pulled when I moved.
And I was discussing entering a hidden archive through a coal passage beneath my ex-husband’s mistress’s property.
This was not how I had imagined Nora’s first week.
Then again, I had once imagined Grant would be beside me.
Life had already proven imagination unreliable.
“We do this legally,” I said.
Lydia nodded.
“I will seek an emergency preservation order.”
“Can it include the house?”
“If we show corporate funds purchased it, yes.”
“And the archive?”
“If it contains company records.”
“It does.”
“How can you swear to that?”
“Thomas told me.”
That was true.
Three months before his death, Thomas had called me into his study.
He was thinner then.
His hands shook when he poured tea.
He told me he had preserved records of every major decision made during his years as chief executive.
He said institutions forgot their values unless someone kept evidence of what they had survived.
At the time, I believed he meant board minutes and old contracts.
Now I wondered whether he had meant something else.
Lydia left to prepare the filing.
Evelyn remained with me until noon.
Before she left, she stood beside the bassinet and touched Nora’s foot through the blanket.
“What will you tell her about us?” she asked.
“The truth.”
Evelyn closed her eyes briefly.
“That is fair.”
“Fairness isn’t the goal.”
“What is?”
“Giving her enough truth to recognize manipulation before it becomes familiar.”
Evelyn nodded.
At the door, she turned.
“Grant used to be kind.”
“I know.”
“I don’t know when he changed.”
“I do.”
She waited.
“He changed every time somebody protected him from the cost of what he did.”
Evelyn looked down.
Then she left without defending him.
The hospital discharged me the following afternoon.
My younger sister, Rachel, drove us to her townhouse in Evanston.
I had sold my downtown condominium during the divorce and leased a smaller apartment, but photographers had gathered outside the building.
Rachel’s neighborhood was quieter.
She had covered her guest room windows, stocked the refrigerator, and placed a handwritten sign beside the front door.
Sleeping baby. Do not ring unless the house is on fire.
Rachel was thirty, blunt, and incapable of pretending Grant had redeeming qualities.
She had disliked him since our rehearsal dinner, when he corrected the way she pronounced a French wine.
“You look terrible,” she told me as I lowered myself onto the sofa.
“Thank you.”
“I mean medically.”
“That helps.”
She took Nora’s carrier and placed it beside me.
“You’re not opening your laptop.”
“I need to review the preservation motion.”
“No.”
“The hearing is tomorrow.”
“Lydia is a lawyer.”
“I’m the client.”
“You are leaking several kinds of fluid.”
I looked at her.
She raised both hands.
“Too honest?”
“Deeply.”
Nora began to cry.
Every part of me responded at once.
I lifted her, checked her diaper, and settled her against me.
Rachel watched with an expression I had never seen on her face.
Wonder mixed with fear.
“She’s really his?” she asked quietly.
“Yes.”
“Are you sure?”
“Three tests.”
“She deserves better.”
“She will have better.”
“I mean a better father.”
“I know.”
My phone vibrated.
A message from Grant.
Please let me see her.
I placed the phone down.
Rachel read my face.
“Him?”
“Yes.”
“What did he say?”
“He wants to see Nora.”
“What do you want?”
It was a harder question than I expected.
I wanted Grant to understand what he had done.
I wanted him to feel the emptiness of every appointment he missed, every letter he ignored, every night I sat alone listening to Nora’s heartbeat through a home monitor because I was terrified of losing another baby.
I wanted him to stand outside a locked door and experience one fraction of what abandonment felt like.
But Nora was not a tool.
Her relationship with her father could not become the weapon I used to punish mine.
“I want a professional to tell me what is safest,” I said.
“That sounds annoyingly healthy.”
“I’m exhausted.”
“Maybe wisdom is just fatigue with boundaries.”
I sent Grant’s message to Lydia and asked her to arrange a temporary custody conference.
Ten minutes later, he called Rachel’s phone.
She stared at the screen.
“How did he get my number?”
“He’s had it for twelve years.”
“He’s never called me.”
“Answer.”
Rachel looked delighted.
I pointed at her.
“Do not enjoy this.”
“I can’t promise that.”
She answered and put the phone on speaker.
“Grant.”
“Rachel, is Claire with you?”
“She might be.”
“I need to speak to her.”
“You had her number.”
“She isn’t answering.”
“That sounds like a response.”
I held out my hand.
Rachel gave me the phone.
“What do you need, Grant?”
“I need to see my daughter.”
“You need a court-approved arrangement.”
“I’m her father.”
“We established that.”
“You can’t keep her from me.”
“I’m not. Lydia contacted your attorney.”
“My attorney resigned.”
That surprised me.
“When?”
“This morning.”
“Why?”
“He says there’s a conflict.”
“With what?”
“He won’t tell me.”
“Then find new counsel.”
“I’m trying.”
“Good.”
“Claire, please.”
The word sounded different now.
Less raw than in the hospital.
More deliberate.
Grant had begun adjusting.
He always recovered quickly when panic became strategy.
“I need to understand what happened,” he said.
“Which part?”
“The letters. The trust. The company.”
“The custody process concerns Nora, not the company.”
“I know.”
“Do you?”
“Yes.”
“Then ask about her.”
A pause.
“Is she eating?”
“Yes.”
“Sleeping?”
“In intervals.”
“Did the doctors find anything wrong?”
“No.”
“Does she need anything?”
“Stability.”
“I can provide that.”
“You currently have no job, no access to corporate accounts, an unpaid wedding, and a bride who intercepted medical information about your child.”
“She is not my bride.”
I looked at Rachel.
Rachel’s eyebrows lifted.
“You canceled the wedding?” I asked.
“There wasn’t a wedding to cancel by the time I returned.”
“What happened?”
“Half the guests left. The venue locked the ballroom. Vanessa disappeared.”
“Where?”
“I don’t know.”
“You arrived at the hospital together.”
“She left while I was in the board meeting.”
“What did she take?”
“Her luggage.”
“What else?”
Silence.
“Grant.”
“My laptop.”
“Company laptop?”
“Yes.”
“Have you reported it?”
“To whom?”
“The audit committee. Police. The company’s security team.”
“I no longer have authority to contact security.”
“You have the authority to report stolen property.”
“She didn’t steal it.”
“You said she took it.”
“We shared access.”
“Then why are you calling me instead of her?”
His breathing came through the speaker.
“I think she lied to me.”
“That possibility has existed for some time.”
“I mean about more than the letters.”
I waited.
“She told me the fertility clinic destroyed the embryos,” he said.
Rachel’s face went still.
I kept my voice calm.
“When?”
“During the divorce.”
“Why would you discuss our embryos with Vanessa?”
“She found an invoice.”
“What did she tell you?”
“That the storage contract had lapsed.”
“It was prepaid.”
“I know that now.”
“Did she show you documents?”
“Yes.”
“What kind?”
“A disposal notice.”
“Signed by whom?”
“You.”
Rachel covered her mouth.
I gripped the phone.
“I never authorized disposal.”
“I believe you.”
“Why?”
“Because the signature looked like the one on the release request Lydia sent my attorney this morning.”
“You saw the request?”
“Yes.”
“Did you submit it?”
“No.”
“Did Daniel Voss?”
“I don’t know.”
“Who introduced you to Voss?”
“Vanessa.”
“Why?”
“She said he specialized in family trusts.”
“Did he tell you the Continuity Trust was dissolved?”
“Yes.”
“Did you pay him?”
“Mercer Meridian did.”
“How much?”
“I don’t know.”
“You signed the invoices.”
“My office handled them.”
“Vanessa handled them?”
A pause.
“Yes.”
Rachel silently mouthed, Unbelievable.
I stood slowly and carried Nora toward the window.
Outside, children were walking home from school beneath bare maple trees.
“Grant, listen carefully. Do not contact Vanessa. Do not warn Voss. Do not attempt to enter the Lake Forest house.”
“The Lake Forest house?”
“You didn’t know she bought it?”
Silence.
Then, “What?”
“North Vale Residential purchased it with money traced to Mercer Meridian.”
“That’s impossible.”
“Your mother confirmed it.”
“My mother spoke to you?”
“She visited Nora.”
The sentence hurt him.
I heard it in the sudden stillness.
“She held her?”
“Yes.”
“You let my mother hold her but not me?”
“Your mother entered the room calmly and waited for permission.”
“I am her father.”
“Then start behaving like someone whose presence does not create danger.”
“I didn’t know Vanessa bought the house.”
“I believe you.”
“Stop saying that like it makes things worse.”
“It does make things worse. Either you participated, or you handed enough control to Vanessa that she moved millions of dollars and intercepted information about your child without you noticing.”
He did not respond.
I shifted Nora against my shoulder.
“Send Lydia every document Vanessa showed you about the embryos.”
“I will.”
“Do not edit anything.”
“I won’t.”
“Do not call Voss.”
“I said I won’t.”
“Grant.”
“What?”
“Your daughter’s genetic material may have been stolen.”
The line remained silent for so long that I checked the screen to see whether the call had ended.
Then he said, “What do you mean, my daughter’s?”
“The remaining embryos were created from my eggs and your sperm. If they were transferred or removed, they are genetically connected to Nora.”
“I didn’t authorize that.”
“Neither did I.”
“What would Vanessa want with them?”
“That is what we need to learn.”
His voice changed.
“If she hurt them—”
“They are not evidence you own.”
“That’s not what I meant.”
“Then choose your words carefully.”
He exhaled.
“Claire, I know you hate me.”
“Hate requires energy I need elsewhere.”
“I made mistakes.”
“You conducted an affair, diverted money, publicly humiliated me, and ignored repeated notice of a pregnancy.”
“I didn’t see the notice.”
“You made sure the people around you understood that information from me was unwanted.”
“I didn’t tell Vanessa to hide it.”
“You rewarded her for controlling access to you. The instruction did not need to be spoken.”
He became quiet.
I continued.
“You want to know when you changed? You changed when you began believing you were innocent of anything you delegated.”
Rachel looked at me with wide eyes.
Grant did not argue.
At last he said, “Tell Lydia I’ll cooperate.”
“I will.”
“And Claire?”
“Yes?”
“Please send me a picture of Nora.”
I looked down at her.
Her cheek rested against my chest.
One tiny hand clutched the edge of my shirt.
“I’ll consider it after we have a temporary agreement.”
“I’m not going to post it.”
“This isn’t about social media.”
“I just want to see her.”
“You saw her yesterday.”
“For less than five minutes.”
“That was five minutes more than you gave her before she was born.”
His breath caught.
I hated the satisfaction that gave me.
Not because he did not deserve the truth.
Because I did not want pain to become the only language we shared.
“I’ll ask Lydia to arrange a supervised visit,” I said.
“When?”
“As soon as a neutral professional is available.”
“Thank you.”
The gratitude sounded real.
I ended the call before that could matter.
The emergency preservation hearing took place the next morning by video.
Judge Helen Ramirez had handled complex commercial cases for twenty-three years and disliked theatrics.
Voss arrived with theatrics.
He argued that the Lake Forest house was private property unrelated to Mercer Meridian.
