He Declared Me Dead on Tuesday, So I Walked Into Court on Friday novel · Chapter 2 of 24
Chapter 2: Petra Gives Her Back the Badge
Petra brings Lena into MercerDx through the back entrance, returns her founder badge, and publicly orders security to deny Adrian's representatives access before his counsel delivers notice of an emergency control vote.
Petra fastens the recovered badge to my coat and turns me toward the staff gathered beside the MercerDx security gate.
"Hold still, Lena."
The clip catches the wool.
My name sits beneath the company seal, scratched at one corner from years of use.
The security guard nearest the gate looks at the badge, then at me.
He has been told Adrian Mercer speaks for the company now.
I can see the instruction sitting behind his eyes.
Petra sees it too.
"You can stop looking confused," she says.
"Dr. Mercer owns the badge, the patent, and the building lease. She also owns the person who keeps changing the visitor rules."
The guard straightens.
"Ma'am, we were instructed to admit Mr. Mercer's representatives through the main entrance."
"You were instructed to admit them," Petra says.
"You were not instructed to let them work here."
I touch the badge once.
The plastic is warm from Petra's hand.
I wore it through the first clinical validation meeting, the first hospital contract, and the afternoon we learned our assay could detect the marker before symptoms appeared.
Adrian stood beside me for all three.
He carried coffee.
He called it strategy.
Petra gestures toward the corridor.
"The back entrance was a good choice. The front desk has spent all morning telling people you are unavailable."
"How many people did they turn away?"
"Three vendors, one reporter, and your brother's attorney from Seattle."
"He is not my brother's attorney."
"He had the same hair as your brother. I was working with limited information."
I look at her.
Petra's mouth moves once.
It is almost a smile, but she decides against wasting it.
The staff remain by the gate.
A lab supervisor holds a paper cup she has forgotten to drink from.
Two analysts stand shoulder to shoulder.
Someone from finance has brought a folder and is pretending it is not shaking.
They expected a company takeover.
They prepared for one.
I raise my voice enough to reach the group.
"Good morning."
No one answers at first.
Then the lab supervisor says, "Good morning, Dr. Mercer."
The others follow.
Some use my title.
One says my name.
The finance employee says nothing at all.
A woman from reception steps forward with a visitor lanyard.
"Dr. Mercer, I was told you were not cleared for the executive floors."
"Who told you that?"
She looks toward Petra.
"Mr. Mercer's office."
"Adrian's office is not the same as mine."
Her eyes drop to the badge.
"I understand."
She does not.
She understands that the paperwork has changed again.
Last week, she brought me black coffee before the early board call.
This morning she offers me a temporary lanyard with VISITOR printed across it.
I leave it hanging from her fingers.
On Wednesday, Adrian sent three assistants to clear my office.
I keep that sentence where I keep the rest of the chart.
Petra steps closer.
"I can have security remove the temporary access blocks."
"Let me speak first."
Her eyes settle on mine.
She does not ask whether I am sure.
She asks the question underneath it.
"Without showing them the file?"
"Without showing them the file."
"Why?"
"Because they need to know who they are following before they know what he did."
Petra studies me.
Then she turns to the group.
"You heard Dr. Mercer. She will address you before anyone presents another memo with a forged sense of urgency."
A man from compliance lifts his folder.
"We were told the founder is deceased and that Mr. Mercer has temporary authority."
"You were told badly," Petra says.
He glances at me.
"Are we expected to disregard instructions from the acting executive?"
"You are expected to follow the authority that exists. The court has not granted Mr. Mercer control. The board has not removed Dr. Mercer."
"Your security instructions came from someone who had no right to issue them."
The compliance man looks down at his folder.
His name is printed under a blue company logo.
I know him.
He approved our hospital licensing audit last spring and sent me a three-page apology when the final report was delayed.
Now he will not meet my eyes.
"What happens to our access?" someone asks.
"Nothing," I say.
"Your work continues. The people who came here to replace it will wait outside."
A woman in a gray cardigan raises her hand halfway.
"Are we allowed to ask whether this means the company is stable?"
"It means the company has survived a more serious threat than a bad quarter."
Petra looks at me.
"That is the first reassuring statement anyone has made all week."
"It is also the only accurate one."
The lab supervisor laughs before she can stop herself.
The sound moves through the group and breaks the rigid line at the gate.
I recognize the shift.
People do not need comfort from me.
They need a fact they can stand on.
"Our clinical work remains protected," I say.
"No data leaves this building without authorization. No employee signs a new reporting line today."
"If anyone asks you for credentials, you send them to Petra."
A junior analyst asks, "Even if they say they are acting for your husband?"
"Especially then."
That earns a few lowered heads and one visible smile.
The main doors open behind us.
Adrian enters with two men in dark coats and a woman carrying a leather portfolio.
He has chosen the entrance used for visitors and donors.
His tie is navy.
His expression is arranged for witnesses.
His gaze finds me before anyone speaks.
It always does.
The woman with the portfolio steps forward.
"Mr. Mercer, the staff have been gathered without notice."
"Apparently," Adrian says, "there has been an unfortunate misunderstanding."
He looks at me.
He takes a practiced breath before the next sentence.
"Lena, you should not be here in your condition."
"You filed a petition saying I was dead. My condition is more stable than your paperwork."
The lab supervisor covers her mouth.
The compliance man studies the floor.
Adrian's smile stays in place.
"This is not the time for personal remarks."
"You brought personal remarks to probate court under your signature."
The woman with the portfolio cuts in.
"Dr. Mercer, until the governance question is resolved, Mr. Mercer is acting under a temporary management arrangement."
"Ordered by whom?"
She pauses.
"The board was notified."
"Notification is not authorization."
Petra points toward the doors.
"Security."
The guard steps forward.
His face has changed.
The badge on my coat has done its work.
Petra speaks to him in the same tone she uses for every procedural error.
"Mr. Mercer and his representatives do not enter the restricted floors. They may wait in the public lobby or leave."
Adrian turns toward her.
"Petra, this is unnecessarily hostile."
"No," she says.
"This is access control."
His lawyer touches his arm.
The gesture is meant to look calming.
Adrian removes himself from it.
"You are making a serious mistake," he tells Petra.
"Correct me in writing."
The guard opens the side gate and points toward the lobby.
Adrian does not move at first.
The staff watches him stand beneath the company logo he has spent years claiming he built.
I do not need to tell them who made MercerDx.
Petra has already done that.
Adrian's lawyer steps close and places a sealed board notice in my hand.
"Then you should see what your return has made necessary."
The paper is cold.
The first line names Adrian's emergency board vote.
It is set for Tuesday at noon, before the court's investigation can finish.
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