Chapter 3 - My access code.That sentence followed me all the way home.
Someone had entered Bayfront Pavilion using my private credentials.
Not a copied key.
Not a stolen card.
My administrator access.
The code only four people had ever known.
Me.
Marcus.
My attorney.
And Victoria.
I drove back to the house.
Victoria was standing in the kitchen drinking coffee.
She smiled when she saw me.
“Changed your mind about the wedding?”
“No.”
She raised an eyebrow.
“I went to the venue.”
Her expression barely moved.
“Why?”
“To check something.”
“What?”
“Nothing important.”
She looked relieved.
Too relieved.
I poured myself coffee.
“Where's Sabrina?”
“Getting ready.”
“For the wedding?”
Victoria smiled.
“Of course.”
I nodded.
Then I noticed her phone on the counter.
A message flashed.
Raymond: Daniel knows about the trust.
Victoria immediately grabbed the phone.
Too late.
I had seen it.
She looked at me.
I looked at her.
For the first time in our marriage, neither of us pretended.
“You knew.”
She slowly placed the phone down.
“Knew what?”
“That I own Bayfront.”
Silence.
Then she laughed.
“You?”
“Yes.”
“That building?”
“Yes.”
She shook her head.
“You're lying.”
“Ask Raymond.”
Her smile vanished.
That was enough.
I walked toward the stairs.
“Where are you going?”
“To Sabrina.”
Victoria stepped in front of me.
“She doesn't want to see you.”
“I didn't ask.”
She grabbed my arm.
“Daniel.”
I pulled free.
“You destroyed the suit.”
“She didn't want it.”
“You stole money.”
Her face hardened.
“We took what you owed us.”
“Owed you?”
“Yes.”
“For raising Sabrina?”
Her eyes flickered.
Then she said something I never expected.
“You were never supposed to raise her.”
I stopped.
“What?”
“Raymond wanted her.”
“You left him.”
“We were young.”
“You disappeared.”
“You weren't entitled to replace him.”
I stared at her.
“Replace him?”
Victoria's eyes filled with anger.
“You think money makes you her father?”
“No.”
I stepped closer.
“Showing up for twenty years does.”
She slapped me.
The sound echoed through the kitchen.
I did not touch my cheek.
I simply looked at her.
Then Sabrina walked into the room.
She was wearing the white silk robe her mother had bought her.
Her hair was styled.
Her makeup was finished.
She looked beautiful.
And completely unfamiliar.
“Dad…”
I said nothing.
She glanced at Victoria.
Then back at me.
“I need you to understand.”
“Understand what?”
“That Raymond is my father.”
“I know.”
“He deserves today.”
“He disappeared when you were one.”
“He came back.”
“Because you are getting married.”
She flinched.
I regretted saying it.
But she lowered her eyes.
“He loves me.”
“Does he?”
“Yes.”
“How much?”
“What does that mean?”
“How much money has he received from you?”
Her face went pale.
Victoria stepped forward.
“Don't do this.”
Sabrina whispered.
“What are you talking about?”
I looked directly at my daughter.
“Tell me about the money.”
She said nothing.
Then Raymond appeared at the doorway.
He was wearing a black tuxedo.
He looked older than I remembered.
Gray hair.
Silver watch.
Perfect smile.
“Family meeting?”
I turned toward him.
He smiled.
“Daniel.”
“Raymond.”
He extended his hand.
I didn't take it.
His smile disappeared.
Then he looked at Sabrina.
“Come on, sweetheart. We don't have time.”
She followed him.
Before leaving, she turned.
“I hope you don't ruin today.”
Then the door closed.
I stood there.
Thirty minutes later, I received another message.
Unknown number.
He has been lying to all of you.
A photograph was attached.
It showed Raymond signing a document beside a bank officer.
The date was three months earlier.
The document title read:
Beneficial Ownership Transfer Agreement.
My blood ran cold.
I zoomed in.
At the bottom was a signature.
Raymond's.
Beside it was another signature.
Victoria's.
And beneath theirs was a forged signature.
Mine.
I called my attorney.
“Eleanor?”
She answered immediately.
“Daniel?”
“Did you authorize any transfer involving my property?”
“No.”
“Did you send anyone documents to sign on my behalf?”
“No.”
“Then someone forged my signature.”
There was a long pause.
“Where are you?”
“At home.”
“Lock the doors.”
“Why?”
“Because if this is what I think it is, your property isn't the only thing they have been trying to take.”
“What else?”
She hesitated.
“Your identity.”
“What?”
“Daniel, I've been trying to reach you for three days.”
“I didn't receive anything.”
“That is the problem.”
“What problem?”
“Your mailbox was changed.”
My stomach dropped.
“What?”
“Someone filed a forwarding request.”
“To where?”
She gave me the address.
I knew it.
It belonged to Raymond.
I stared at the wall.
They had redirected my mail.
My legal documents.
Bank statements.
Property notices.
Insurance correspondence.
Anything private.
Anything valuable.
Someone had been living inside my life.
And then Eleanor said:
“There is one more thing.”
“What?”
“Yesterday, someone requested a certified copy of your birth certificate.”
I froze.
“Who?”
“The request was submitted under your name.”
I swallowed.
“Why would they need my birth certificate?”
Eleanor's voice became quiet.
“Because they're preparing documents that require identity verification.”
The room seemed to shrink.
“What documents?”
May you like
She answered with four words.
“Your death certificate.”
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