Chapter 5
The first bomb dropped at noon.
Mara called me, her voice tight with urgency.
“Turn on the news. Right now.”
I grabbed the remote from the table by Chloe’s bed and turned on the small television mounted on the wall.
A reporter was standing outside the Holloway mansion.
“—shocking allegations this afternoon as attorneys for Grant Holloway released a series of emails and text messages that they claim prove Dr. Evelyn Mercer, Chief Medical Officer at Mercy Heights Hospital, had been planning to frame her estranged husband for child abuse as part of a bitter divorce and custody battle.”
My blood turned to ice.
The screen cut to a press conference.
Arthur Voss stood behind a podium, Richard Holloway at his side.
“Over the past eighteen months,” Voss said, holding up a stack of papers, “Dr. Mercer sent dozens of communications to her attorney, to friends, and even to the child herself, outlining a plan to destroy Grant Holloway’s reputation. She manipulated twelve-year-old Chloe into making false accusations. She coached the child on what to say. She even went so far as to create fake audio recordings to support her lies.”
He paused for dramatic effect.
“Last night, when Chloe unfortunately suffered a tragic accident—a simple fall down the stairs that could happen to any child—Dr. Mercer saw her opportunity. She seized upon the moment to execute her plan. She had the child flown to her own hospital, where she could control the narrative. She manipulated hospital staff. She staged a confrontation with my client, knowing full well the security cameras were rolling.”
He gestured to Richard.
“Grant Holloway is a loving father. He is a devoted son. He is a respected member of this community. And he has been systematically destroyed by a woman who cares more about winning a divorce than about the truth.”
The screen cut back to the reporter.
“Dr. Mercer has not yet responded to these allegations. We attempted to contact her at Mercy Heights Hospital, but our requests for an interview were denied. Meanwhile, support for Grant Holloway is already pouring in on social media, with the hashtag #IStandWithGrant trending nationwide.”
I stared at the screen in disbelief.
They were calling me a monster.
They were calling Chloe a liar.
And they were doing it with “evidence.”
Mara was still on the phone.
“Evelyn? You still there?”
“How?” I whispered. “How do they have emails? How do they have text messages?”
“Grant had access to your accounts. Remember? You shared a family plan. He probably cloned your phone months ago. He’s been manufacturing this ‘evidence’ for as long as you’ve been building your real case.”
“What do we do?”
“First, you don’t say anything to anyone. No reporters. No social media. Nothing. Second, I need you to send me every password, every account, everything. My tech team is going to go through every line of those emails and prove they’re doctored. Third, we need to get ahead of this before it gets worse.”
“Worse? How could it get worse?”
As if on cue, there was a commotion in the hallway outside Chloe’s room.
I opened the door.
A group of people had gathered—protesters. They carried signs.
#IStandWithGrant
EVELYN MERCER IS A LIAR
FREE HOLLOWAY
CHLOE NEEDS HER FATHER
The police officers were trying to keep them back, but they were shouting, their voices carrying down the hallway.
“Child abuser!” one woman screamed. “How dare you hurt that little girl!”
“Give Chloe back to her father!” another yelled.
My heart was pounding.
They believed it.
They actually believed it.
I closed the door and locked it.
I leaned against it, my legs giving out.
Mara was still talking in my ear.
“Evelyn? What’s happening?”
“There are protesters,” I said, my voice shaking. “Outside Chloe’s room. They’re calling me a liar. They’re calling me an abuser.”
“I’m calling hospital security. I’m calling the police. Do not open that door. Do not engage with them. Do you understand?”
“I understand.”
I hung up.
I walked back to Chloe’s bed.
She was still sleeping. Still peaceful.
She had no idea that outside those four walls, the world was being told that the woman who loved her was the one who’d hurt her.
I picked up my phone and opened social media.
The hashtag #IStandWithGrant was everywhere.
Thousands of posts.
Hundreds of thousands of comments.
People were calling for my medical license to be revoked.
People were saying I should be arrested.
People were saying I should die.
And then I saw it.
A post from Victoria Holloway. Grant’s sister.
“To those asking—yes, Evelyn was always jealous of Chloe’s relationship with Grant. She wanted the child all to herself. She turned that sweet girl against her own father. My brother is innocent. #IStandWithGrant”
It had been shared fifty thousand times.
I threw my phone across the room.
It hit the wall and clattered to the floor.
I sank into the chair and put my head in my hands.
I’d spent a year and a half quietly building my case.
I’d been careful. I’d been patient.
And in the space of a single press conference, Grant had turned the entire narrative on its head.
I wasn’t the hero anymore.
I was the villain.
A soft knock on the door.
“Dr. Mercer?”
It was Sarah.
I wiped my eyes and stood up.
I unlocked the door and opened it just a crack.
“The protesters are being moved,” Sarah said quietly. “Hospital security is here. The police are making them leave. But… there’s something else.”
“What?”
“Your office called. The board of directors is holding an emergency meeting. They want to see you. Now.”
Of course they did.
The scandal was everywhere.
I was the face of Mercy Heights Hospital. And right now, that face was being dragged through the mud.
“I can’t leave Chloe.”
“They said it’s mandatory. They said if you don’t show up, they’ll have no choice but to suspend you immediately.”
I looked back at Chloe.
I couldn’t lose my job.
Not now.
Not when I needed every resource, every connection, every bit of influence I had to protect her.
“Stay with her,” I said to Sarah. “Don’t let anyone in. No one. Not even other doctors. Not unless I call and say it’s okay.”
“Of course.”
I grabbed my white coat off the back of the chair.
I checked my reflection in the window.
My eyes were red. My hair was a mess. I looked like I’d been through hell.
Which I had.
I took a deep breath.
I opened the door.
The hallway was clear now, but the echoes of those shouts still rang in my ears.
I walked toward the elevator.
Every person I passed stared at me.
Some with sympathy.
Some with judgment.
Some with something that looked like fear.
The elevator doors opened.
Richard Holloway was standing inside.
May you like
We stared at each other.
“Dr. Mercer,” he said, his voice smooth as silk. “Mind if I join you?”
