Chapter 3 - The First Forgery
Marcus pulled me behind him.
I hated that I let him.
The west corridor stayed empty.
Then a shadow crossed the far doorway.
"Victoria?"
No answer.
Marcus reached inside his jacket.
I caught his wrist.
"No gun."
"If she's not alone-"
"No gun."
He lowered his hand.
We moved together.
The old music room door stood open.
Cold air moved through a cracked window.
On the piano sat a phone.
Screen lit.
My name on it.
Emily.
I picked it up.
A message waited.
NOT ME. SOMEBODY IS USING MY ACCESS.
Marcus swore.
Then another message.
CHECK DANIEL'S POST-WEDDING FILE.
I looked at him.
"You have more?"
"Yes."
"All of it. Now."
We returned to the study.
Marcus spread the documents across the desk.
The forged emergency authority was only the first.
Eleven days after the wedding.
Six months later, a medical consent amendment.
A year later, a property-management delegation.
Three years later, draft language for an incapacity petition.
Every signature mine.
None signed by me.
I picked up the medical amendment.
"Who witnessed this?"
Marcus pointed to a name.
Dr. Elaine Porter.
I did not know her.
He opened the audit.
Payments from a Hale subsidiary to Porter's private practice.
Consultation notes describing me as impulsive, paranoid, emotionally volatile.
I laughed.
"She never met me."
"That does not matter if someone builds enough supporting records."
"Who supplied them?"
"Daniel."
The room narrowed.
He had documented arguments.
My sleepless nights after my father died.
One panic attack during our second year of marriage.
A weekend I spent alone at the lake house.
Everything translated into symptoms.
I put the pages down carefully.
"If I had not authorized the freeze tonight?"
Marcus looked at the transfer schedule.
"Within thirty days they could have filed."
"And the trust?"
"Daniel would have asked for temporary authority while your competency was reviewed."
I looked at the door he had kicked.
He had not slapped me because he lost control.
He had slapped me because he thought control was almost complete.
A soft chime came from Daniel's laptop.
Incoming encrypted message.
V.V.
I did not answer.
Text first.
YOU NEED TO GET OUT OF THE STUDY.
I typed:
WHY?
The reply came instantly.
BECAUSE PATRICIA KNOWS ABOUT THE SECOND DRAWER.
I looked at Marcus.
"What second drawer?"
He frowned.
"There isn't one."
I searched the desk.
The concealed drawer Daniel never knew.
Nothing else.
Then I remembered my father knocking twice beneath the left kneehole when I was a child.
A strange habit.
I crouched.
Pressed the panel.
A seam opened.
Marcus sucked in a breath.
Inside was a metal box.
Locked.
On top of it lay a small photograph.
Victoria.
My father.
A man I did not recognize.
All three standing outside a hospital.
Date stamped eight years before Victoria's crash.
Marcus took the photo.
"Samuel."
"Who?"
"Samuel Vance. Victoria's father."
I looked at the box.
"Key?"
Marcus searched the hidden compartment.
Nothing.
My phone rang.
Unknown number.
I answered.
Victoria whispered, "Don't let Marcus open that box."
He heard her.
His face changed.
"Victoria?"
"Put me on speaker."
I did.
She said, "Emily, the post-wedding authority isn't the first forgery."
Marcus looked at the papers.
"What is?"
Victoria's voice hardened.
"Your marriage license."
My hand went still.
"What?"
"Not the license itself. The supporting identity certification attached to Daniel's application."
Marcus started searching the digital archive.
Victoria continued.
"Daniel didn't marry you under a false name. But his father did."
I frowned.
"What does that have to do with me?"
"Everything."
Marcus found a scanned attachment.
Daniel Cross.
Father: Michael Cross.
Mother: Patricia Cross.
Attached birth record.
Michael Cross's social security number.
Marcus zoomed in.
Then went silent.
"Marcus?"
He pulled an old case file.
Same number.
Different name.
Peter Hale.
My father's younger brother.
My uncle.
Dead overseas twenty-two years ago.
I stared at the screen.
"That's impossible."
Victoria said, "No."
My throat closed.
"What are you saying?"
"Michael Cross was not who Patricia said he was."
A crash came through Victoria's line.
She gasped.
Then whispered, "They're here."
"Who?"
The connection broke.
Marcus looked at the identity file.
Then at me.
"Emily."
I could barely hear him.
He tapped the shared social security number.
"If this is real, Daniel may be legally connected to your family by blood."
May you like
CUT.
