PART 2

At eleven forty, the basement door slowly swung open.

Daniel stepped out carrying my mother’s cedar jewelry chest. Behind him came Vanessa, wearing my mother’s blue silk robe while casually spraying perfume onto her wrists.

My stomach lurched.

“That robe was buried with her,” I whispered.

Mr. Bell’s expression hardened.

“No. The funeral home returned her clothes to Daniel. He told you they had been donated.”

Just then, the camera in my office activated on my laptop screen. One of the unfamiliar men walked in carrying a portable scanner. He unlocked my safe and removed my passport, birth certificate, property deed, and the trust agreement my mother had established before she died.

Then Daniel laid a photograph beside the documents.

The woman in the picture looked almost identical to me.

She had the same dark hair, the same height, and even a matching scar painted near her eyebrow.

Vanessa raised her wineglass.

“To Claire’s tragic accident in the mountains.”

The room spun around me.

Every piece of their plan unfolded clearly through the microphone.

The impersonator would use my identification to approve the sale of my home and transfer my investment accounts. Daniel had already created forged medical records portraying me as mentally unstable. Once the money changed hands, the woman pretending to be me would disappear. Meanwhile, a rental car booked in my name would be pushed into a mountain ravine.

Vanessa smiled.

“Everyone already thinks she’s losing it.”

Daniel answered without hesitation.

“That was the easiest part.”

I shot to my feet so fast the chair crashed onto the floor behind me. My lungs refused to draw air. The faces on my laptop blurred into darkness.

When I opened my eyes again, I was lying on Mr. Bell’s floor with blood on my lip.

The grandfather clock struck midnight.

“You fainted for thirty seconds,” he said. “Breathe.”

I forced myself to inhale.

Then I called the one person Daniel believed had disappeared from my life years earlier—Deputy Attorney General Maya Ortiz, my former supervisor.

She answered immediately.

“Tell me you finally have them.”

Without wasting another second, I sent her the live video feed, Mr. Bell’s photographs, and digital copies of the forged permits.

She fell silent before finally speaking.

“Do not approach the house. We’re moving.”

But there was still something I needed to confirm.

Using the secure portal from my old fraud division, I searched the companies listed on the basement permits.

Every one of them was a shell company.

Vanessa was listed as the registered agent.

The account designated to receive the proceeds from my house belonged directly to Daniel’s investment firm.

They had chosen the wrong victim.

Years earlier, after helping prosecute a title-theft operation, I quietly placed permanent fraud alerts on every major asset I owned. Any transfer required a rotating authorization code held only by my attorney.

Daniel’s forged paperwork had already activated the system.

The bank had frozen the affected accounts that afternoon and preserved every uploaded document.

He simply had no idea.

At twelve fifteen, Vanessa uncorked a bottle of champagne.

Daniel kissed the woman pretending to be me and smiled.

“By sunrise, this house is ours.”

I zoomed in until his face filled the screen.

“No,” I whispered. “By sunrise, it becomes your crime scene.”

A moment later, Maya called again.

State investigators were only five minutes away, but I asked them to remain at the end of the road.

“Why?” she demanded.

“Because Daniel still thinks I am weak,” I replied. “I need him to say one more thing.”

Continue reading