Chapter 1 - The Death Certificate
The death certificate said my sister had been dead for thirteen months.
Then my phone buzzed.
A new message from Claire appeared on the screen.
STOP READING.
For one second, I forgot how to breathe.
Thirteen months earlier, Claire Carter had disappeared on a Tuesday night. She left her apartment unlocked, her office lights on, and a half-finished cup of tea beside her laptop. Her car stayed in the garage. Her phone went dark at 8:17 p.m.
Then came the emails.
Short ones at first.
I need time.
Don’t call the police.
I’m safe.
Later came bank transfers from an account in her name, enough to make everyone believe she had taken money from Carter Medical and run.
And finally the message that had ended my search.
Daniel, don’t look for her.
I had believed it because the message came from Vanessa, my wife, the one person I thought had no reason to lie to me.
Until that afternoon.
I came home early and heard Lily crying before I reached the living room.
Vanessa stood beside the sofa with my father’s old walking cane in her hand.
Noah was on the floor in front of his little sister, shielding her with his body.
“Move,” Vanessa snapped.
“No.”
My eleven-year-old son’s voice shook, but he did not move.
Lily pressed herself against the wall behind him, both hands over her mouth.
I crossed the room and took the cane from Vanessa.
“What the hell are you doing?”
Her face changed immediately.
“Daniel, this isn’t what it looks like.”
Noah pointed toward my home office.
“Files,” he whispered.
Vanessa reached for her phone.
I grabbed her wrist.
“Who are you calling?”
She jerked free and hit a contact.
The call connected on speaker.
A man answered.
“Did Carter see the death certificate?”
Vanessa froze.
So did I.
She hung up.
Too late.
I walked into my office and opened the drawer Noah had pointed at.
Inside was a file I had never seen.
DEATH CERTIFICATE.
CLAIRE MARIE CARTER.
Date of death: thirteen months ago.
Cause: complications from blunt-force head trauma.
The physician’s signature at the bottom belonged to Dr. Marcus Hale—my father’s former private doctor and a member of our company’s board.
I walked back into the living room holding the paper.
“Where is Claire?”
Vanessa stared at it.
“I don’t know.”
“You’re lying.”
“It wasn’t how you were supposed to find out.”
Something cold moved through me.
Claire had not abandoned me.
According to the document in my hand, Claire had died.
And someone had been living inside her name for thirteen months.
My phone buzzed again.
Another message from Claire.
THIS TIME, ASK VANESSA WHO BURIED ME.
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