Chapter 7 - The Family ArrivesWe killed the lights.
Footsteps echoed upstairs.
Voices.
Amanda.
Mom.
Then someone I didn't recognize.
"Claire isn't here," Amanda said.
My heart slammed against my ribs.
How did they know?
Mom answered.
"She must have gone somewhere else."
Daniel looked at me.
"They think the lodge is empty."
Noah whispered, "Are we hiding?"
"Yes."
Lily clutched my coat.
I looked at the safe.
We couldn't stay.
Daniel pointed toward another staircase.
"It leads outside."
We moved silently.
Then Mom's voice echoed through the basement.
"I know you're down there."
I froze.
She had seen the trapdoor.
Amanda laughed nervously.
"Claire?"
No answer.
Mom's voice hardened.
"You should have gone to the hotel and stayed there."
The irony nearly made me laugh.
Daniel signaled.
We ran.
The exit opened behind the lodge.
Cold air hit my face.
We crossed the woods.
At the edge of the property stood my rental car.
But beside it was another vehicle.
A black SUV.
The same one from my father's old house.
I stopped.
The man was waiting beside it.
Victor Lang.
He smiled.
"You've been busy."
Daniel stepped in front of me.
Victor looked at him.
"You should have stayed out of this."
Daniel didn't move.
Victor's eyes returned to me.
"Your father was difficult too."
I stared at him.
"What happened to him?"
He smiled faintly.
"Ask your mother."
Then he got back into the SUV.
They drove away.
I stood frozen.
Noah tugged my sleeve.
"Mom?"
I looked at Daniel.
"Who is he?"
"Your father's former partner."
"Is he the one Dad was afraid of?"
Daniel didn't answer.
That was enough.
We left the lodge before my mother could find us.
I drove to a safe hotel thirty miles away.
Then I called the police.
The investigator from my identity fraud case arrived that evening.
I showed her the documents.
The names.
The photographs.
The recording.
She listened quietly.
When she finished, she asked:
"Do you know who Project Harbor belongs to?"
"No."
She pointed to a company name on one of the ledgers.
"Horizon Harbor Holdings."
I stared.
It sounded familiar.
"Where have I heard that?"
She turned another page.
There it was.
My mother's home address.
My name.
And a signature.
Mine.
Except I had never signed it.
The investigator looked at me.
"Someone created this company using your identity."
"Why?"
She flipped to the last page.
A payment schedule.
A transfer date.
The final transfer was set for Thanksgiving morning.
The amount was enormous.
Almost everything connected to my father's estate.
My mother's house.
Several commercial properties.
And the lodge.
All scheduled to become legally controlled by a company registered under my name.
The investigator frowned.
"Claire, do you realize what this means?"
"No."
"It means someone has been preparing a legal transfer."
"Of what?"
"Everything your father left."
My stomach turned.
"Then why hasn't it happened?"
She pointed to the signature page.
Because something was missing.
My signature.
Not the forged one.
The real one.
The final document required my physical signature.
Thanksgiving morning.
The family gathering wasn't about dinner.
It was about getting me to sign away my inheritance.
I thought about the sleeping bags.
Mom hadn't simply insulted me.
May you like
She had underestimated me.
And that might be the most dangerous mistake she had ever made.
