PART 3 — THE ACCOUNT WITH MY NAME ON IT
For several seconds, I couldn’t speak.
One point eight million dollars.
An account opened in my name.
Money moving through it for almost six years.
And a company under federal investigation.
I looked at Rachel.
“There has to be some mistake.”
Rachel didn’t answer immediately.
She was already typing the unfamiliar company name into her computer.
Michael Reeves had written:
NORTHSTAR STRATEGIC HOLDINGS.
I had never seen those words before in my life.
Never signed a contract with them.
Never received a paycheck from them.
Never invested in them.
Nothing.
Rachel’s expression tightened.
“What?” I asked.
She turned the monitor slightly away from me.
“Give me a minute.”
“That is never something an attorney says when the news is good.”
“I know.”
She picked up her office phone.
“Claire, come in here, please.”
Her senior associate entered less than a minute later.
Rachel pointed to the screen.
“Find everything you can on Northstar Strategic Holdings. Corporate registration, litigation, regulatory actions, ownership, subsidiaries.”
Claire nodded once and left.
I looked down at my phone again.
Michael Reeves’s number was still there.
Waiting.
“Who is he?” I asked.
Rachel folded her arms.
“He says he represents Daniel in a private business matter.”
“Why would Daniel’s representative warn me?”
“That’s exactly what bothers me.”
“So we call him.”
“No.”
“Rachel—”
“Emma, someone has just told you your identity may have been used to move nearly two million dollars through an account connected to a company being investigated. Until I know who Michael Reeves actually represents, you do not speak to him alone.”
My stomach twisted.
“Could Daniel have opened an account in my name?”
“With enough personal information?”
She gave me a meaningful look.
“He was your husband.”
Was.
The word still sounded strange.
Technically, the divorce had only begun.
Emotionally, Daniel had stopped being my husband the moment I saw Olivia’s name on that Miami lease.
Rachel continued.
“He would have known your Social Security number. Date of birth. Previous addresses. Probably your mother’s maiden name. He may have had access to copies of your identification.”
I remembered something.
“Our safe.”
“What about it?”
“At home. Daniel kept copies of everything there. Passports. Tax documents. Birth certificates.”
“Who had the combination?”
“Both of us.”
Rachel’s mouth tightened.
I stood.
“I need to go home.”
“You need to stay calm.”
“I am calm.”
“You are holding your phone hard enough to break it.”
I looked down.
She was right.
I loosened my grip.
Rachel stood too.
“Go home. Photograph everything in that safe before touching anything. If documents are missing, tell me. Do not call Daniel. Do not call Olivia. And if someone is at the house, you leave.”
That last sentence stopped me.
“Why would someone be at my house?”
“I don’t know.”
“That’s reassuring.”
“I’m not trying to reassure you. I’m trying to protect you.”
Forty minutes later, I pulled into my driveway.
The house looked exactly the same.
White shutters.
Hydrangeas along the walkway.
Daniel’s basketball hoop beside the garage.
The ridiculous stone fountain he insisted we install and then complained was too loud.
Everything looked normal.
That was somehow the worst part.
I unlocked the front door.
“Hello?”
Nothing.
I hated myself for saying it.
I closed the door and locked it behind me.
The safe was upstairs in the back of our bedroom closet.
I moved Daniel’s remaining jackets aside and entered the code.
4-1-1-9.
Our anniversary.
The door clicked open.
At first, nothing seemed wrong.
Passports.
Property records.
My birth certificate.
Marriage certificate.
Insurance documents.
Then I reached for the folder labeled TAX IDENTIFICATION.
Empty.
I stared at it.
I pulled it out completely.
Nothing.
My old passport copy was missing too.
So was a photocopy of my driver’s license.
I took pictures.
Then I called Rachel.
“Things are missing.”
“What?”
I told her.
“Do you know when you last saw them?”
“No.”
“Could Daniel have removed them recently?”
“He could have removed them anytime.”
“Don’t touch anything else.”
“I already touched the folder.”
“That’s fine. Just stop now.”
I stepped away from the safe.
Then I noticed something behind it.
A thin black cable.
Daniel had installed the safe himself three years earlier.
I crouched.
The cable disappeared behind the shelving.
I followed it with my hand.
There was a tiny black box attached beneath the lowest shelf.
At first, I thought it was part of the alarm system.
Then I saw the microSD slot.
“Rachel?”
“Yes?”
“There’s something wired behind the safe.”
“What kind of something?”
“I don’t know.”
“Take a photograph. Do not unplug it.”
I photographed it.
Sent the picture.
Thirty seconds later, Rachel said, “That looks like a miniature camera recorder.”
My blood went cold.
“A camera?”
“Possibly.”
“In my closet?”
“Don’t remove it.”
“What would Daniel be recording?”
“I don’t know.”
I slowly turned around.
My bedroom suddenly felt different.
The closet.
The ceiling.
The vents.
The smoke detector.
Every object became suspicious.
“Emma?”
“I’m here.”
“Leave the house.”
I didn’t argue.
I grabbed my purse and walked downstairs.
Halfway to the front door, I heard a sound outside.
A car door closing.
I froze.
Then the doorbell rang.
I looked through the side window.
Olivia.
She stood on my porch wearing sunglasses and a long beige coat despite the heat.
Her hands were trembling.
I almost didn’t open the door.
Then she removed her sunglasses.
She had been crying.
I unlocked the deadbolt but kept the chain attached.
“What are you doing here?”
“I drove up.”
“From Miami?”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“Because I need to show you something before Daniel finds out I have it.”
I stared at her.
“What?”
She looked over her shoulder toward the street.
“Can I come inside?”
“No.”
“Emma, please.”
“No.”
She swallowed.
“That’s fair.”
Her eyes dropped.
“I wouldn’t let me in either.”
For one uncomfortable second, neither of us spoke.
This was the woman I had imagined hating.
The woman carrying my husband’s child.
The woman whose name appeared beside his on a Miami lease.
But standing there, Olivia didn’t look triumphant.
She looked terrified.
“What do you have?” I asked.
She reached inside her purse.
I immediately stiffened.
She noticed.
“It’s just a folder.”
Slowly, she pulled out a red document envelope.
“There are copies inside.”
“Copies of what?”
“Contracts.”
My skin prickled.
“What contracts?”
“I don’t understand all of them.”
“Then why bring them to me?”
“Because your name is on them.”
I removed the chain.
Not because I trusted her.
Because I needed to see that folder.
Olivia stepped inside.
We didn’t sit.
She placed the red envelope on my dining room table.
When she opened it, I saw my name immediately.
EMMA CARTER.
Printed beside a signature.
My signature.
Except I had never signed it.
I picked up the page.
“What is this?”
“I found them in Daniel’s suitcase.”
“When?”
“This morning.”
She pulled out another document.
And another.
Bank authorizations.
Investment agreements.
A corporate ownership declaration.
My name appeared everywhere.
“Why were you searching his suitcase?”
Olivia looked ashamed.
“Because after you told him you knew about Miami, he changed.”
“What do you mean?”
“He spent the entire night making calls. He wouldn’t tell me who he was talking to. Then he started packing.”
“Packing for where?”
“I don’t know.”
She looked directly at me.
“He told me we needed to leave the country.”
I stopped breathing.
“What?”
“He said there was a problem with his business and we couldn’t stay in Miami.”
“What business?”
“That’s what I asked.”
“And?”
“He screamed at me.”
I looked at her carefully.
“Did he hurt you?”
“No.”
She paused.
“Not physically.”
I nodded.
“Keep going.”
“He went downstairs to make another call. That’s when I opened his suitcase.”
She touched one of the documents.
“These were underneath the lining.”
“Did you photograph everything?”
“I took these copies from the business center downstairs.”
“Daniel didn’t notice?”
“I put the originals back.”
“Where is he now?”
“I don’t know.”
That answer frightened me more than I expected.
“What do you mean you don’t know?”
“He left at six this morning. He said he had to fix something.”
“Did he say where?”
“No.”
“Did you tell him you were coming here?”
“No.”
“Does he know you’re gone?”
“Probably by now.”
I immediately picked up my phone.
“Then you can’t stay here.”
“I know.”
“No, Olivia, you don’t understand. There may be recording equipment in this house.”
Her face went white.
“What?”
“I just found what looks like a hidden recorder behind our safe.”
She stared toward the stairs.
“Daniel had cameras in Miami too.”
The room became silent.
“What did you say?”
“In the condo.”
“Where?”
“I found one in the living room two weeks ago.”
“And you stayed?”
“He told me it was security.”
“Inside the living room?”
“He said someone had broken into one of his old apartments.”
“Did you believe him?”
“I wanted to.”
There was something in the way she said it that made me understand more than I wanted to.
Daniel had chosen both of us because we trusted him.
Different women.
Same weakness.
Faith in the wrong man.
I called Rachel and told her Olivia was with me.
Her response was immediate.
“Both of you leave.”
“Where?”
“My office.”
“We’re coming.”
I gathered the documents.
Then Olivia suddenly grabbed my wrist.
“Wait.”
“What?”
“There’s one more thing.”
She reached into her coat pocket and removed a USB drive.
“I almost forgot.”
“What’s on that?”
“I don’t know.”
“Then why take it?”
“Because it was taped underneath the documents.”
I stared at the tiny black drive resting on her palm.
Rachel’s office had a secure computer isolated from their normal network.
We drove separately.
I watched my mirrors the entire way.
No one followed us.
At least, I didn’t think anyone did.
Rachel met us in the lobby.
She shook Olivia’s hand professionally.
No judgment.
No warmth.
Just business.
For the next hour, Olivia told her everything.
Daniel had approached her fourteen months earlier at a marketing conference.
He told her he was separated.
He said our divorce was ugly and private.
He claimed I had received the house and most of our assets.
He told her he was starting an independent consulting company.
When she became pregnant, he proposed.
Not officially.
Not with the ring.
He told her the engagement had to remain secret until his “final divorce documents” were processed.
The $18,400 ring I found?
Olivia had never seen it.
“He never gave it to you?” I asked.
“No.”
I leaned back.
So even that part of his plan hadn’t happened yet.
Rachel asked, “Did Daniel ever discuss Northstar Strategic Holdings?”
Olivia’s face changed.
“Yes.”
My stomach dropped.
“What did he say?”
“He said they were one of his consulting clients.”
“How often?”
“Constantly.”
“Did he meet with them?”
“I don’t know. But someone named Victor called him a lot.”
“Victor what?”
“I never heard a last name.”
Rachel wrote it down.
“What did they discuss?”
“He always left the room.”
Then Olivia frowned.
“Except once.”
Rachel stopped writing.
“What happened?”
“We were driving. Daniel answered through the car speakers by accident.”
“What did you hear?”
“Victor said something like, ‘She cannot find out the account is attached to her identity.’”
Every hair on my arms rose.
“What did Daniel say?”
“He disconnected the call immediately.”
“And you didn’t ask?”
“I did.”
“What did he tell you?”
Olivia looked at me.
“He said they were discussing you.”
I swallowed.
“What about me?”
“He told me you had tax problems.”
I actually laughed.
It came out sharp.
“Tax problems?”
“He said you had hidden income during the marriage.”
“That’s ridiculous.”
“I know that now.”
Rachel interrupted.
“Emma, stay focused.”
I nodded.
She turned back to Olivia.
“Anything else about Victor?”
Olivia thought carefully.
“He met Daniel once.”
“Where?”
“Miami.”
“When?”
“Three months ago.”
“Can you describe him?”
“Late fifties. Maybe sixty. Gray hair. Tall. Expensive clothes.”
“Name of hotel?”
“The Bellmont.”
Rachel typed something.
“There are several.”
“Miami Beach. Oceanfront.”
Then Olivia added, “He had a scar.”
“Where?”
“Across his left hand.”
Something about that detail tugged at my memory.
A scar across the left hand.
I had seen that before.
I closed my eyes.
Birthday dinner.
Three years earlier.
Daniel had invited a man from “work.”
Gray hair.
Tall.
Dark suit.
He shook my hand across the table.
I remembered looking down because a pale scar crossed his knuckles.
I opened my eyes.
“I met him.”
Rachel looked up.
“You’re sure?”
“Daniel brought him to my birthday dinner three years ago.”
“What name did he use?”
I tried to remember.
“Victor…”
It came slowly.
“Victor Hale.”
Rachel immediately searched the name.
Nothing obvious appeared at first.
Then Claire came into the office holding a folder.
“We found Northstar.”
Rachel looked at her.
“And?”
Claire closed the door.
“Northstar Strategic Holdings is basically a shell.”
“What does that mean?” Olivia asked.
Claire placed several printed pages on the table.
“It owns no obvious operating facilities. Very little public business activity. But it has been connected indirectly to at least seven companies over the last decade.”
“Doing what?”
“Government contracting. International logistics. Real estate. Financial consulting.”
“That sounds legitimate,” I said.
“It might be, except three of the companies dissolved shortly after federal subpoenas were issued.”
Rachel leaned forward.
“For what?”
“Fraud investigations.”
My throat tightened.
Claire continued.
“Two involved false invoices. One involved government procurement fraud. Another appears tied to laundering money through consulting payments.”
Olivia covered her mouth.
I looked at the forged signatures in front of me.
“How does my name fit into this?”
“We don’t know yet.”
Rachel glanced at the USB drive.
“But maybe that tells us.”
She took us into a smaller room at the back of the office.
No windows.
One table.
One laptop.
Claire inserted the USB drive.
A password screen appeared.
“Well,” I said, “that was easy.”
Claire ignored my sarcasm.
“What passwords does Daniel use?”
“He changes them.”
“Common patterns?”
“Birthdays. Places. Sports teams.”
Olivia spoke.
“Try 0817.”
I looked at her.
“What is that?”
“The baby’s due date.”
Claire entered it.
Wrong.
I hated the tiny stab that went through me hearing that date.
She tried several combinations.
Nothing.
Then I remembered Daniel’s old financial password.
“Cobalt47.”
Wrong.
Olivia tried “Toronto2026.”
Wrong.
Rachel looked at both of us.
“What would matter most to Daniel?”
I almost said money.
Then something else occurred to me.
“Victory.”
Claire looked at me.
“What?”
“He uses the word victory all the time. When he closes a deal. When he wins an argument. He once said life is just a series of victories people are too afraid to take.”
Olivia’s face changed.
“He told me that too.”
Claire entered VICTORY.
Wrong.
I leaned closer.
“Add 1984.”
Daniel’s birth year.
VICTORY1984.
The drive opened.
Nobody spoke.
There were twelve folders.
CLIENTS.
TRANSFER LOGS.
TAX.
PROPERTY.
NORTHSTAR.
E.CARTER.
I felt sick seeing my initial.
Claire opened E.CARTER.
Inside were scanned copies of my driver’s license.
Passport.
Tax forms.
My inheritance documentation.
Bank statements.
Then there was a folder labeled SIGNATURE SAMPLES.
I whispered, “Oh my God.”
Inside were dozens of documents I had genuinely signed over the years.
Mortgage paperwork.
Insurance forms.
Birthday cards.
Even a scanned Christmas letter.
Daniel had collected examples of my handwriting.
Claire opened another folder.
FORMS COMPLETED.
That was where we found the forged documents.
Dozens of them.
My signature copied almost perfectly.
Rachel’s jaw tightened.
“This is deliberate identity fraud.”
But Claire had gone still.
“What?”
She pointed at the screen.
“There’s a spreadsheet.”
TRANSFER LOG.
She opened it.
Rows of dates appeared.
Payments.
Hundreds of them.
$18,000.
$42,500.
$67,000.
$120,000.
Money entering one account and leaving through several others.
For six years.
At the top was a column labeled BENEFICIARY.
Most entries contained initials.
VH.
DC.
RM.
Others were company names.
Then I saw mine.
EC.
Beside my initials were payments totaling more than $480,000.
“I never received that money.”
Rachel nodded.
“I know.”
“So where did it go?”
Claire clicked one entry.
Associated account details opened.
The receiving account was in my name.
But the mailing address wasn’t mine.
It was a PO box in Delaware.
The phone number wasn’t mine.
Neither was the email.
The email address began:
emma.carter.management@
Daniel had created a financial version of me.
A second Emma Carter.
One who opened accounts.
Signed contracts.
Received money.
Paid companies.
And existed entirely on paper.
Rachel whispered, “He built a synthetic financial identity around you.”
“Why?”
“So if anyone investigated these transactions…”
Claire finished the sentence.
“They would find Emma Carter.”
The room seemed to tilt.
Daniel hadn’t just planned to steal my inheritance.
He had used me as a shield.
For years.
“What happens if federal investigators already found these accounts?” I asked.
Rachel’s face answered before her mouth did.
“They may believe you were involved.”
Olivia stared at me.
“But she wasn’t.”
“We know that.”
“That’s not what I asked.”
Rachel looked at me carefully.
“If there is an active investigation, we need criminal counsel immediately.”
I stood.
“I need air.”
Rachel stopped me.
“Emma.”
“I’m not running.”
“I know.”
“I spent eleven years married to this man, and apparently I didn’t know a single thing about him.”
“That isn’t true.”
“It feels true.”
I walked toward the door.
Then Claire said, “Wait.”
Something in her voice stopped everyone.
She had opened another folder.
NORTHSTAR.
There were photographs.
Not business documents.
Photographs.
Daniel entering hotels.
Daniel meeting men in restaurants.
Daniel exchanging envelopes.
Victor Hale stepping into black cars.
Then photographs of me.
I moved closer.
“What the hell?”
Me leaving my office.
Me grocery shopping.
Me sitting at a café with Rachel two days earlier.
Rachel saw it too.
“That picture is recent.”
Very recent.
Someone had photographed us after I discovered Daniel’s affair.
My chest tightened.
Claire scrolled.
There were photos of our house.
Our driveway.
My car.
Then one photo taken through my kitchen window.
I was standing at the sink.
The timestamp was from eight months ago.
“This isn’t Daniel’s file about finances,” I said.
“No,” Rachel replied.
“Then who took these?”
No one answered.
Claire opened a text document beside the photographs.
There were notes.
Routine.
Work: 8:00 a.m.
Gym Tuesdays.
Mother deceased.
No children.
Minimal extended family.
My entire life reduced to surveillance notes.
Then I saw the final line.
If DC becomes unreliable, EC becomes leverage.
I read it twice.
“What does leverage mean?”
Rachel didn’t answer.
She didn’t have to.
Olivia whispered, “Daniel wasn’t watching you.”
“No.”
I stared at the photographs.
“Someone was watching both of us.”
Claire opened another image.
Olivia gasped.
It showed her entering a prenatal clinic.
Date stamped six weeks earlier.
Then another.
Her walking alone.
Another.
Daniel kissing her outside the Miami condo.
The last photograph was different.
Victor Hale stood beside Daniel in a parking garage.
Daniel’s expression looked furious.
Victor had one hand on Daniel’s shoulder.
There was a caption underneath.
DC REQUESTED EXIT.
VH DENIED.
Olivia grabbed the table.
“He tried to leave them.”
Rachel turned.
“Or he tried to make them believe he wanted out.”
Claire continued searching the drive.
A folder named INSURANCE appeared.
Inside were policies.
Several ordinary ones.
Life insurance on Daniel.
Life insurance on me.
Then a document I had never seen.
My name was insured for $3 million.
Beneficiary:
CARTER ASSET MANAGEMENT LLC.
“What is Carter Asset Management?” I asked.
Claire searched the corporate name.
Her expression changed.
“It was formed five years ago.”
“By whom?”
She scrolled.
“Registered agent is a corporate service.”
“Owner?”
“Not publicly listed.”
Then she froze.
“But the mailing address matches the PO box attached to your fraudulent account.”
A cold sensation moved through my body.
Someone had created a company connected to my fake financial identity.
And that company would receive three million dollars if I died.
Olivia whispered, “Emma…”
“I see it.”
Rachel immediately took out her phone.
“We are calling criminal counsel now.”
Before she could dial, my phone rang.
UNKNOWN CALLER.
We all stared at it.
Rachel shook her head.
“Don’t answer.”
The call stopped.
Then came again.
UNKNOWN CALLER.
Stopped.
Again.
Finally, a voicemail appeared.
Rachel put my phone on speaker.
I played it.
At first, there was only breathing.
Then Daniel’s voice.
“Emma.”
He sounded exhausted.
Nothing like the arrogant man who had demanded the $720,000 back.
“If you’re hearing this, you probably found something you weren’t supposed to find.”
Rachel and I looked at each other.
Daniel continued.
“You think this started with Olivia.”
A pause.
“It didn’t.”
My hands went cold.
“You think I chose Miami because I wanted a new life.”
Another pause.
“That isn’t exactly true either.”
Olivia started crying silently.
Daniel’s voice dropped.
“I did terrible things. I lied to you. I used your name. I told myself I could fix it before you ever knew.”
I stared at the phone.
“But Northstar isn’t a company you walk away from.”
Rachel moved closer to the speaker.
Daniel continued.
“And Victor Hale is not someone you threaten unless you are already prepared to disappear.”
A faint noise came through the voicemail.
A car.
Maybe traffic.
Then Daniel whispered,
“I was trying to get the money together because Victor gave me a deadline.”
Rachel’s eyes narrowed.
“He said I owed him two million dollars.”
There was a shaky breath.
“And if I didn’t pay, he said he would use the evidence tied to your name.”
I closed my eyes.
The $720,000.
Daniel hadn’t only planned to use it for Miami.
He had planned to give it to Victor.
Maybe all of it.
The mistress.
The condo.
The fake Toronto story.
They were still betrayals.
But now they were pieces of something much uglier.
Daniel’s voicemail continued.
“I know you’ll never forgive me.”
“You’re right,” I whispered.
“But Emma, listen to me carefully.”
The room became completely silent.
“Do not go home.”
My heartbeat jumped.
“Do not stay at Rachel Stein’s office.”
Rachel’s head snapped toward the phone.
How did he know I was here?
“And whatever you do…”
Daniel suddenly sounded frightened.
“Do not trust Michael Reeves.”
I looked at Rachel.
The man who first told me about the hidden $1.8 million account.
Daniel continued.
“Michael doesn’t represent me.”
A long pause.
“He works for Victor.”
Olivia covered her mouth.
Then Daniel said the words that changed everything.
“And if Michael contacted you, that means Victor already knows you found the account.”
The voicemail ended.
Nobody moved.
Then the office receptionist called Rachel’s desk.
Rachel answered.
“Yes?”
Her expression slowly emptied.
“When?”
She looked through the glass wall toward reception.
“No. Do not let him back here.”
She hung up.
“What?” I asked.
Rachel looked at me.
“There is a man downstairs asking to see you.”
My mouth went dry.
“Who?”
“He gave his name as Michael Reeves.”
Olivia backed away from the door.
Rachel immediately called building security.
Then my phone vibrated.
A text.
Michael:
Emma, I know Daniel warned you about me.
Another.
He is lying again.
Then another.
Ask him what happened on October 14, 2021.
I stared at the date.
It meant nothing to me.
Until Claire returned to the transfer spreadsheet.
“Emma.”
“What?”
Her voice had become almost a whisper.
“There’s a transaction on October 14, 2021.”
“How much?”
She turned the laptop toward me.
$250,000.
Sender:
NORTHSTAR STRATEGIC HOLDINGS.
Recipient:
EMMA CARTER.
My fake account.
But underneath it was another entry.
Same day.
Same amount.
Outgoing payment.
Recipient:
HARBORVIEW MEDICAL FOUNDATION.
I frowned.
“That’s a hospital charity.”
Rachel looked at Claire.
“Open the attachment.”
Claire clicked.
A scanned invoice appeared.
Then a patient file number.
Then a name.
Everyone went silent.
Because the patient wasn’t Daniel.
It wasn’t Olivia.
It wasn’t Victor.
The name on that file was:
LILY CARTER.
I stared at it.
“That’s impossible.”
Rachel looked at me.
“Who is Lily Carter?”
I couldn’t answer.
Because Daniel and I had never had children.
There was no Lily Carter in our family.
At least…
that was what I had believed.
Then Claire opened the next page.
A birth record appeared.
Mother:
EMMA CARTER.
Father:
DANIEL CARTER.
Child:
LILY ROSE CARTER.
Date of birth:
October 14, 2021.
My legs gave out.
Rachel caught my arm before I hit the floor.
“No,” I whispered.
“This is fake.”
But the next document contained a photograph.
A little girl.
Dark hair.
Brown eyes.
Approximately four years old.
And around her neck was a tiny gold necklace.
The same necklace my mother had given me when I was twelve.
The necklace that disappeared from our safe five years ago.
I had accused the cleaning company of losing it.
Daniel told me I was being paranoid.
Claire opened one final document.
CUSTODIAL AGREEMENT.
My forged signature appeared at the bottom.
And beside it, Daniel’s real one.
But the child’s legal guardian wasn’t Daniel.
It wasn’t Olivia.
It was a name I recognized immediately.
A name I had not heard since I was twenty-three years old.
My older sister.
Rebecca.
I stared at the screen as my entire past crashed into the present.
Rebecca had vanished from my life fourteen years ago.
No calls.
No messages.
No explanation.
My family told me she had moved overseas and wanted nothing to do with us.
My mother died still refusing to discuss what happened.
And now somehow…
my missing sister was legally connected to a four-year-old girl whose birth certificate claimed I was her mother.
My phone buzzed again.
Another message from Michael Reeves.
This time, only six words:
Ask Rebecca whose daughter Lily really is.
And underneath it came a photograph.
Rebecca.
Daniel.
And the little girl.
Standing together outside a house.
The timestamp was from yesterday…………..
TO BE CONTINUED IN PART 4…
