Chapter 4 - Eight Years AgoThat night, I checked into another hotel under a different name.
Robert finally called at 1:14 a.m.
"You found the desk."
"How did you know?"
"Your father told me one day you'd figure it out."
"Who was the man in the photograph?"
Robert was silent.
"Robert?"
"He was your father's business partner."
"His name?"
"Victor Lang."
I didn't know the name.
"You will."
"What happened eight years ago?"
Another pause.
"Claire, there are things you need to understand before I tell you."
"I don't have time for riddles."
"I know."
"Tell me."
Robert exhaled.
"Your father was investigating missing money."
"From the trust?"
"From several companies."
"Companies connected to Amanda?"
"Yes."
My stomach tightened.
"What did Amanda do?"
"She wasn't the mastermind."
"Then who was?"
Robert didn't answer.
"Was it Mom?"
"No."
"Then who?"
"The person who convinced everyone that your father was unstable before he died."
I suddenly remembered.
Neighbors had whispered after my father's death.
They said he'd been under pressure.
They said he'd been depressed.
They said he was drinking too much.
My mother had told us not to ask questions.
I had believed her.
"Are you saying my father wasn't sick?"
"No."
"What are you saying?"
"I'm saying his death solved several financial problems for several people."
Silence.
I gripped my phone.
"Was he murdered?"
"I don't know."
That answer terrified me more than yes.
Robert continued.
"Officially, his death was accidental."
"Officially?"
"Claire, your father had a habit of keeping copies of documents."
"I know."
"He kept one final set somewhere no one could find."
"The photograph said Daniel knows what happened."
"Daniel knows part of it."
"What part?"
"I'll let him tell you."
"Why won't you?"
"Because your father asked me not to reveal certain details unless you were ready."
"Ready for what?"
Robert paused.
"To understand why your mother needed you dependent on her."
I stared at the ceiling.
"My mother doesn't control me."
"You think she doesn't."
I said nothing.
Then Robert asked the question I'd been avoiding.
"Have you checked your credit?"
I frowned.
"My credit?"
"Yes."
"Why?"
"Because before your father died, he warned me that Amanda might eventually use your identity."
Cold crawled up my arms.
"What are you talking about?"
"I think you should check tonight."
I opened my banking app.
Everything looked normal.
Then I opened my credit report.
I scrolled.
One account.
Another.
Another.
My throat closed.
There were seven credit cards I had never opened.
Two personal loans.
A line of credit.
A retail financing account.
All opened over the last three years.
The names were mine.
The address was Mom's house.
I sat perfectly still.
Someone had been borrowing money in my name.
Millions? No.
Not millions.
But nearly $118,000.
My hands went numb.
I called the bank.
Then the credit bureau.
Then the police.
The hotel room became a blur.
At 3:06 a.m., an investigator came to the room.
She looked through the reports.
"Do you recognize this address?"
"My mother's."
"And this phone number?"
Amanda's.
I stared at her.
The investigator said nothing.
She didn't need to.
At 3:24, my phone rang.
Mom.
I answered.
Her voice sounded panicked.
"Claire, please."
"What did you do?"
"What are you talking about?"
"Did you open accounts in my name?"
Silence.
Long enough to become an answer.
"Claire..."
I hung up.
Three seconds later, a text arrived.
From Amanda.
You don't understand what Dad left behind.
I stared at it.
Then another message.
If you keep digging, you're going to destroy Mom.
I typed one sentence.
Maybe she should have thought about that before she destroyed me.
I pressed send.
A minute later, Amanda replied.
You still don't know what happened to Dad.
Then nothing.
I looked at Lily and Noah sleeping peacefully.
For years, I thought my father had died suddenly.
Now I wasn't sure he'd died naturally at all.
And for the first time, I wondered whether Thanksgiving had never been a family gathering.
May you like
Maybe it had been a meeting.
A meeting designed to get me to sign something.
