Chapter 2 - The police entered the mansion like the house itself had become evidence.Two officers moved through the foyer while another spoke quietly into a radio.

Daniel stood near the staircase.

For the first time in five years, he didn't look like the owner of anything.

His suit was wrinkled.

His hair was disordered.

His jaw was tight.

His eyes kept moving.

Searching.

Not for me.

For an escape.

“Daniel Harper?”

He looked toward the officers.

“Yes.”

“You're being detained while we investigate a domestic assault complaint and suspected financial fraud.”

Patricia exploded.

“Financial fraud?”

She pointed at me.

“This woman is insane!”

An officer raised a hand.

“Ma'am, step back.”

“You don't understand,” Patricia snapped. “This is our home.”

I stepped into the hallway.

“No.”

Everyone turned.

“This is my home.”

Daniel stared at me.

He looked almost confused.

Then angry.

“You've lost your mind.”

I held up the red folder.

“Ask him who owns the house.”

The room went silent.

Patricia laughed.

“Daniel owns this property.”

Marcus walked through the front door.

He carried a slim black case and wore the expression he always wore when everything had gone exactly according to plan.

He nodded at the officers.

Then looked at Daniel.

“No, he doesn't.”

Daniel's face changed.

Marcus opened the case.

“The property title belongs to the E. Harper Family Trust.”

Patricia shook her head.

“That trust dissolved years ago.”

Marcus looked at her.

“It did not.”

He removed several documents.

“What you were told was a dissolution was a fraudulent amendment.”

Daniel stepped forward.

“You have no right to be here.”

Marcus smiled faintly.

“Actually, Daniel, I'm here because your actions gave me every right.”

The officers took the papers.

One began comparing the signatures.

Patricia crossed her arms.

“This is ridiculous.”

Marcus looked at me.

“She still doesn't know.”

“Know what?”

Marcus hesitated.

I noticed.

“What?”

He looked at Daniel.

Then back at me.

“Your father never intended Daniel to inherit anything.”

Patricia scoffed.

“My husband was named executor.”

Marcus corrected her.

“Temporary administrator.”

Patricia went pale.

Daniel stepped in.

“That's the same thing.”

“No.”

Marcus placed another document on the table.

“It's not.”

I stared at the page.

At the bottom was my father's signature.

And beneath it:

Beneficiary: Emily Harper.

Successor authority: Marcus Reed.

Spousal control: expressly prohibited.

My mouth went dry.

Daniel had lied about everything.

For five years.

Every time he told me something was “my responsibility as his wife,” he had been inventing authority.

Every time he signed a property document, he had been trespassing across legal boundaries.

Every time he told his family that he was protecting our future...

he was building his own.

Then the officer found the laptop.

“Whose is this?”

Mine?

“No.”

Daniel answered too quickly.

“It's mine.”

The officer opened the screen.

The chat was still visible.

V.V.

“Who is Victoria Vance?”

Daniel froze.

Nobody moved.

Patricia looked at him.

“What does that mean?”

Daniel's eyes flicked toward me.

Then toward the laptop.

Then the door.

I suddenly understood.

He was thinking about running.

“Daniel,” I said.

He looked at me.

“Who is she?”

“It's nothing.”

The officer stepped closer.

“Sir, answer the question.”

Daniel swallowed.

“Victoria is dead.”

Marcus glanced at me.

“That's not what the records say.”

He took out his phone.

A document appeared.

“Victoria Vance filed a notarized affidavit three years ago.”

Daniel's face went white.

Patricia's mouth fell open.

“What?”

I whispered.

“She filed what?”

Marcus looked at me.

“That she was alive.”

The mansion erupted.

Patricia started shouting.

Daniel told the officers it was forged.

Marcus showed them the notarization.

Then the biometric verification.

Then the date.

Three years ago.

Long after Daniel had told me his first wife died.

I walked toward him.

“Where is she?”

He didn't answer.

“Daniel.”

Nothing.

I slapped the document against his chest.

“Where is Victoria?”

He stared at me.

Then he whispered:

“You don't know what you're asking.”

“Then tell me.”

His expression softened for one second.

Not with love.

With fear.

“You should stop looking.”

That sentence frightened me more than anything else.

Because it wasn't a threat.

It was a warning.

The officer took Daniel's phone.

Another began examining the laptop.

Then a message arrived.

This time from an unknown number.

Marcus's phone vibrated.

He looked at the screen.

His expression immediately changed.

“What?”

He turned the phone toward me.

It was a photograph.

A woman stood outside a hotel.

Dark hair.

Black coat.

Half her face hidden behind sunglasses.

But I knew her.

I had seen that face once.

On a framed photograph in Daniel's old apartment.

Victoria Vance.

Alive.

Under the photograph was a timestamp.

11:43 PM

And a message:

Tell Emily I can prove her father wasn't killed in an accident.

My hands went cold.

My father had died in a car crash.

At least, that was what everyone had told me.

The police report had said brake failure.

The insurance company had said mechanical failure.

Daniel had said I should stop asking questions.

For years I had.

Until tonight.

I looked at Marcus.

“Find her.”

He nodded.

Then another notification appeared.

This time the message was from Victoria herself.

Meet me alone.

Midnight.

St. Claire Hotel.

Come without Marcus.

Come without the police.

I stared at the words.

Then the final line appeared.

Because the person who killed your father is still inside your house.

I slowly turned.

Daniel was already looking at me.

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