Chapter 7 - THE WOMAN WHO NEVER EXISTEDA death certificate.
For me.
I stared at Daniel.
“That's impossible.”
He showed me the message.
My name.
My date of birth.
My social security number.
Status: DECEASED.
Date of death: two days earlier.
I couldn't breathe.
“How?”
Daniel shook his head.
“Someone has access to government records.”
Elena looked at my father.
He immediately raised his hands.
“I didn't do this.”
I believed him.
For the first time.
Maybe.
But that was even more terrifying.
Because if my father wasn't responsible, someone much bigger was.
We drove to a lawyer in the city.
Her name was Margaret Sloan.
She had represented my grandfather.
She looked at me for nearly a minute before speaking.
“You're Clara.”
“Yes.”
She closed her eyes.
“I thought I'd never see you.”
My stomach tightened.
“You knew about me?”
“I knew who you were supposed to become.”
She opened a drawer.
Inside was an old key.
“This belongs to you.”
I took it.
“What does it open?”
“The family vault.”
My father stepped forward.
“No.”
Margaret looked at him.
“You no longer have authority.”
He froze.
She handed me a second document.
“Your grandfather changed the trust ten days before he died.”
I read it.
All rights transferred to me.
And there was one additional condition.
I had to claim the estate personally.
Which meant appearing publicly.
Margaret looked at me.
“Someone has been using your identity.”
“To do what?”
“To access accounts.”
“How much?”
“Not yet.”
She hesitated.
“About eighteen million dollars.”
My mouth went dry.
“Someone stole eighteen million dollars using my name?”
“Yes.”
Daniel stared at the documents.
“That explains the death certificate.”
I looked at him.
“What do you mean?”
“They needed you legally dead so they could disappear the identity after moving the money.”
“So who has it?”
Margaret stared at my father.
My father slammed his hand onto the table.
“Stop looking at me!”
Margaret didn't flinch.
“I've seen your records.”
I whispered:
“Dad.”
He looked at me.
For a moment, I saw the father I had grown up with.
Then something broke in his expression.
“I didn't steal the money.”
“Then who did?”
He whispered:
“Savannah.”
I froze.
“My sister?”
“She knows.”
“No.”
“She knows everything.”
I backed away.
“She's seventeen.”
“She was twelve when your mother died.”
My mind raced.
“How would she know?”
My father looked at Elena.
“Because Elena told her.”
Elena's face went white.
“I never told Savannah.”
My father turned toward her.
“You told her where the box was.”
Elena shook her head.
“No.”
“Then how did she know?”
The room fell silent.
Margaret suddenly looked at the window.
“Is that her?”
We all turned.
Across the street stood a teenage girl.
Savannah.
She was staring directly at me.
Then she lifted her phone.
My phone vibrated.
A text message.
I opened it.
One sentence.
COME ALONE OR ZOE DIES.
May you like
I looked out the window.
Savannah was gone.
