Chapter 1 - The Dead Woman Calling
I answered the call.
For half a second, the screen showed only darkness.
Then a woman leaned toward the camera.
Older than the photograph Patricia used to keep on the mantel.
Thinner.
A pale scar cut from her left temple into her hairline.
But the green eyes were the same.
Victoria Vance.
Alive.
My fingers locked around the edge of Daniel's desk.
She did not say hello.
She said, "Lock the concealed drawer."
I stopped breathing.
Outside the study, an officer ordered Daniel away from the door.
A chair scraped.
Patricia's voice rose.
"This is outrageous. My son owns this house."
Victoria heard it through the phone.
Her face changed.
"Is Patricia inside?"
"No."
"Has she been inside the study?"
"Not tonight."
"Emily, listen to me. Lock the drawer."
I looked at the drawer beside my knee.
The drawer my grandfather had built into the desk.
The drawer Daniel had never known existed.
"How do you know about it?"
Victoria glanced over her shoulder.
A door closed somewhere near her.
"I know because your father showed me."
My throat tightened.
"My father knew you?"
"Yes."
"You were dead before I met Daniel."
"No."
The answer came too fast.
No hesitation.
No drama.
Just no.
I heard Daniel arguing with the police in the hall.
"You cannot remove me from my own property."
One of the officers answered, "Sir, step back."
Patricia said, "Emily is unstable. She has been for months."
Victoria's face sharpened.
"She's already doing it."
"Doing what?"
"Building the story."
I stood.
"What story?"
"That you are mentally unfit."
I looked at the red folder on the desk.
The forged signatures.
The transfer drafts.
The documents I had spent four months trying to explain away.
Victoria said, "Do not let Patricia get you evaluated by anyone she recommends. Do not sign anything. Do not eat or drink anything she sends into that room."
My hand went cold.
"Why?"
Another noise sounded behind her.
A knock.
Three slow taps.
Victoria froze.
"Who is that?"
She lowered her voice.
"I have to go."
"No. You called me. You don't get to disappear again."
Her eyes flashed.
"Again?"
"You let Daniel tell everyone you died."
"I did not let Daniel do anything."
"Then tell me what happened."
The knock came again.
Harder.
Victoria looked toward the door.
I heard a man's voice behind her, too muffled to make out.
She whispered, "Patricia chose you."
I frowned.
"What?"
"Daniel did not meet you by accident."
My mouth went dry.
Victoria continued.
"Your charity gala. Your seat assignment. The introduction. All of it."
I stared at the screen.
"Daniel told me he only went because his college roommate had an extra ticket."
"Patricia bought the ticket."
"No."
"Emily."
"No."
"I saw the emails."
I stepped back from the desk.
Daniel and I had met beneath white lights and champagne glasses at a cancer fundraiser.
He had spilled sparkling water on my sleeve.
Apologized three times.
Made me laugh.
He had said he hated rich people who treated charity like theater.
I had thought he was the first man in the room who did not care who my father had been.
Victoria said, "Your husband was supposed to get close to you."
I pressed my free hand to my mouth.
Outside, Daniel shouted, "Emily! Do not talk to anyone!"
Victoria heard him.
Her eyes hardened.
"That is why."
"Why what?"
"Why he married you."
My chest tightened.
I wanted to tell her she was lying.
Instead I asked, "Why?"
A crash sounded on her end.
The image jerked.
Victoria turned.
Someone was trying her door.
She looked back at me.
"Because your husband wasn't supposed to marry you for love."
The screen froze.
"Victoria?"
Static.
"Victoria!"
The call died.
I stared at my own reflection in the black screen.
Then a notification appeared.
One image.
An old email screenshot.
FROM: Patricia Cross
TO: Daniel Cross
Attached was a photograph of me.
Under it, one line:
SHE'S THE ONE.
A second line loaded beneath it.
Daniel's reply.
WHAT IF SHE DOESN'T LIKE ME?
Then Patricia:
MAKE HER.
My phone nearly slipped from my hand.
Someone knocked on the study door.
Not Daniel.
Marcus.
"Emily. It's me."
I unlocked the door only after an officer confirmed his identity.
Marcus stepped inside carrying a hard leather case.
His eyes went to my face.
Then to Daniel's laptop.
"What happened?"
I turned the screen toward him.
He read the messages.
His expression did not change.
That scared me more than shock would have.
"You knew."
"No."
"You knew something."
Marcus set the case on the desk.
"I knew Daniel's first contact with you was not as accidental as he claimed."
My palm hit the desk.
"And you said nothing?"
"I had suspicion. Not proof."
"Victoria just sent me proof."
Marcus's jaw tightened at her name.
I caught it.
"You know she's alive."
He did not answer.
"Marcus."
Outside, Patricia began shouting about lawyers.
Marcus opened his case.
Inside was the original estate deed.
A forensic audit.
And the red folder's companion file.
He removed one document.
"Before you decide who lied to you first, you need to see this."
He placed it in front of me.
The date was eleven days after my wedding.
My name was signed at the bottom.
The signature looked perfect.
It was not mine.
I read the heading.
SPOUSAL EMERGENCY MANAGEMENT AUTHORITY.
My stomach turned.
"What does this do?"
Marcus looked at me.
"If someone proves you're medically or psychologically unable to manage your affairs, it gives Daniel temporary access to parts of the trust."
A pulse started behind my eyes.
"Proves how?"
Marcus pulled out another sheet.
Payments.
Private psychiatric consultations.
A doctor I had never met.
The memo line read:
E.H. - PROGRESSIVE INSTABILITY.
I whispered, "They were building a case."
Marcus nodded once.
Then Daniel's voice came through the cracked door.
"Ask Marcus who paid Victoria's hospital bill after she died."
I turned.
Marcus went still.
Daniel smiled from between two officers.
"Go ahead, Emily."
His eyes fixed on Marcus.
"Ask him."
May you like
CUT.
