Chapter 4 - BEFORE DEREKI didn't sleep that night.
I couldn't.
Every time I closed my eyes, I saw the signature.
My signature.
On a document dated three days before I met my husband.
Rachel sat across from me at the kitchen table.
Emily slept upstairs.
The rain tapped softly against the windows.
“Tell me everything you remember,” Rachel said.
“I met Derek at a charity dinner.”
“You think you did.”
I looked at her.
“What does that mean?”
Rachel slid her laptop toward me.
A photograph appeared.
A hotel ballroom.
People in formal clothes.
Crystal lights.
Champagne.
And me.
Seven years younger.
Standing beside a man.
I leaned toward the screen.
“That’s Samuel.”
“Exactly.”
“I don't remember him.”
“I know.”
The photograph was dated eight days before my first official date with Derek.
I stared at it.
Then another photograph appeared.
Samuel standing beside Derek.
My husband had known him before I ever met him.
“How?”
“I don't know.”
Rachel clicked again.
A document appeared.
It was from a private investment company called Mercer Holdings.
I had never heard of it.
But my name appeared on several pages.
“What did they use my name for?”
Rachel shook her head.
“That's what we're trying to find out.”
A floorboard creaked upstairs.
We both looked up.
I stood.
“Emily.”
We rushed upstairs.
She was asleep.
I checked the crib.
Nothing.
Then I saw the bedroom window.
It was open.
Just an inch.
Rachel closed it.
“Was this open before?”
“No.”
The room became very quiet.
Someone had been here.
Or wanted me to think they had.
I looked at Emily's crib.
A small white envelope rested on the floor beside it.
My name was written across the front.
ANNA.
I picked it up.
Rachel grabbed my wrist.
“Don't.”
“I need to know.”
She opened it with a letter opener.
Inside was a single photograph.
My wedding.
Derek and me beneath the flowers.
On the back, handwritten words:
You should have asked who paid for the wedding.
I stared at the photograph.
Rachel turned it over again.
There was another line beneath the first.
Your husband didn't.
My stomach dropped.
“Who did?”
Rachel didn't answer.
She didn't have to.
We both knew the answer was probably hidden in the Mercer documents.
The next morning, Rachel contacted an attorney.
His name was Daniel Ward.
He was blunt, patient, and suspicious of everything.
He reviewed the documents for two hours.
Then he looked at me.
“Did Derek ever give you access to your financial records?”
“No.”
“Joint bank account?”
“No.”
“Credit cards?”
“Only one.”
“Was it in your name?”
“Yes.”
“Did you ever see statements?”
“No.”
Daniel sat back.
“You've been financially isolated.”
“I know.”
He tapped the Mercer document.
“This is more serious.”
“How serious?”
“If your signature was used without permission, this could involve identity fraud.”
“Could I be responsible?”
“No. Not if you didn't authorize it.”
“Then who did?”
Daniel looked at the date.
“That's what matters.”
He asked for my old phone.
I handed it to him.
He asked me to check my archived messages.
There were hundreds.
Buried in years of meaningless conversations, we found one.
A message from an unknown number.
Seven years earlier.
Your meeting is confirmed for Friday at 8 p.m. The Mercer representative will meet you at the Bellmont Hotel.
I stared at it.
“What did I reply?”
Daniel scrolled.
My response:
Perfect. See you then.
My hands shook.
“I don't remember this.”
Rachel whispered, “Anna.”
I looked at her.
“That's not the worst part.”
Daniel enlarged the sender information.
It was a phone number that no longer existed.
But the area code was Pittsburgh.
Daniel stood.
“I'm going to need your permission to investigate this.”
“Do it.”
“There's something else.”
“What?”
“You should not return to your house.”
“I wasn't planning to.”
“You also need to assume Derek knows where you are.”
I nodded.
Then my phone rang.
Unknown number.
Rachel reached for it.
“Don't answer.”
I did.
“Hello?”
Silence.
Then a man's voice.
Not Derek.
“Your daughter has your eyes.”
My body went numb.
“Who is this?”
“You really don't remember me?”
I couldn't speak.
The voice continued.
“That's unfortunate.”
The call ended.
I stared at the screen.
Rachel whispered:
“Was that Samuel?”
I shook my head.
“No.”
“Then who?”
I looked at the dark window.
“I don't know.”
A notification appeared on my phone.
A photograph had been sent.
It showed Emily's crib.
Taken from inside the room.
Taken that morning.
May you like
Someone had been close enough to photograph my daughter.
And they had left without making a sound.
Related Stories
