Chapter 3: The Woman Who Was Supposed to Be Dead
For several seconds, neither of us spoke.
The hospital monitor beeped beside my bed.
Rain tapped against the window.
And Lucas's letter trembled in my hands.
The name at the bottom of the page belonged to my mother's younger sister.
Victoria Hale.
My aunt had died three years earlier in a house fire outside Portland. I had attended her memorial service, watched my father place white roses beside her photograph, and spent months grieving a woman who had practically raised me after my mother died.
I had even kept one of her old scarves in the back of my closet.
Now my dead husband had written her name in a letter warning me about someone dangerous.
I looked at Daniel.
"Tell me this is a mistake.""
He sat down slowly.
"I wish I could.""
"Victoria is dead.""
"That's what her records say.""
"Her records?""
Daniel rubbed a hand over his face.
"Lucas hired investigators after discovering suspicious transfers in his company accounts. One of the investigators found evidence that someone using the name Victoria Hale had been moving money through several businesses.""
"That's impossible.""
"That's what Lucas believed at first.""
I shook my head.
"No. She died in a fire. My father identified her belongings. There was a funeral.""
"Were you allowed to see her body?""
The question struck me like a slap.
I remembered the funeral home.
The closed casket.
My father standing beside me, one hand gripping my shoulder so tightly that my fingers went numb.
He had told me the fire had been too severe for an open-casket service.
I'd believed him because I had no reason not to.
"You're saying my father lied about her death?""
"I'm saying Lucas believed someone had used your aunt's identity after she supposedly died.""
"Why would he write her name in this letter?""
Daniel looked toward the door.
"Because he may have discovered something we haven't found yet.""
I lowered my gaze to the paper.
The final paragraph was short.
*Emily, if Victoria is alive, do not confront her. Do not tell Charles what you know. And whatever happens, never let anyone convince you that your memory is unreliable. You know more than you realize.*
I read the last sentence twice.
My memory.
What did I know?
I remembered my aunt's laugh, the smell of her lavender perfume, and the way she used to tap twice on my bedroom door before entering.
I remembered the last time I had seen her, several months before the fire. She had visited my father and left after a furious argument in his study.
I'd asked her what happened.
She'd crouched in front of me and said, "Sometimes the people who claim to protect you are the ones you need protecting from.""
I was twenty-eight then.
I'd assumed she was talking about a bad relationship.
Now I wondered whether she had been trying to warn me about Charles.
My phone rang.
My father's name appeared on the screen.
I stared at it.
Daniel shook his head.
"Don't answer.""
The call ended.
A second later, a text arrived.
*Your lawyer is filling your head with lies. Come home, and we'll settle this privately.*
Another message followed.
*You don't want the truth about Lucas's business becoming public. Think about your daughter.*
I showed Daniel.
He read the messages without changing expression.
"Keep them.""
"Why?""
"Because your father just put his intentions in writing.""
My phone rang again.
This time, it was Courtney.
I answered before Daniel could stop me.
"What do you want?""
Her voice was sweet enough to rot teeth.
"Emily, darling. How are you feeling?""
I stared at the hospital wall.
"Don't call me darling.""
"Oh, don't be like that. We're family.""
"You laughed while I was lying outside in the rain.""
"I was nervous.""
"You were filming me.""
She sighed.
"Everyone films everything these days. You can't blame me for wanting proof of what happened.""
"Proof of what?""
"That you were unstable. That you were threatening Charles. That you were making a scene.""
I gripped the phone.
"You planned this.""
"Planned what?""
"You knew he was coming to throw me out.""
Her silence lasted just long enough to answer.
Then she laughed softly.
"Your father has been very patient with you, Emily. He has offered to help you over and over, and you keep acting as though you're better than him.""
"Lucas and I bought that house.""
"Lucas is dead.""
The words landed with deliberate cruelty.
I closed my eyes.
Courtney continued.
"And now you have a baby on the way. You should be grateful Charles is willing to take responsibility for you.""
"Take responsibility for me? By forging my signature?""
Her voice sharpened.
"Be careful.""
"Is that what Charles told you to say?""
"Emily, you have no idea how much trouble you're in.""
"Then explain it.""
"No.""
I heard a door close in the background.
Then Courtney whispered, "You should never have called Daniel Cross.""
My blood turned cold.
"Why?""
"Because he won't be able to protect you from what comes next.""
The line went dead.
I lowered the phone.
Daniel had heard every word.
"She knows about the letter," I whispered.
"Possibly.""
"She knows something about Victoria.""
"Possibly.""
"Why does everyone keep saying that without telling me anything?""
Daniel leaned forward.
"Because I don't want to give you an answer before I can prove it. Your father and Courtney are trying to provoke you into making a mistake. We won't give them one.""
I stared at him.
"What do we do?""
"First, we protect you and the baby. Then we secure the evidence. Then we find out who is behind the financial transfers.""
"And Victoria?""
Daniel's expression hardened.
"We find out whether she's alive.""
A knock sounded at the door.
Natalie rushed in, carrying a canvas bag and wearing a rain-soaked jacket. Her dark hair clung to her cheeks.
"Emily!""
She hurried to my bedside and wrapped her arms around me carefully.
"Oh, my God. Look at you.""
I began crying again.
"I'm sorry.""
Natalie pulled back.
"For what?""
"For making you come here. For—"
"Stop."" She took my face in her hands.
"You could call me at three in the morning from the middle of the desert, and I'd still come get you.""
I laughed weakly through my tears.
"You're going to make me cry harder.""
"Good. You need to get it out.""
She glanced at Daniel.
"Who are you?""
"Daniel Cross. Lucas's attorney.""
Natalie's expression changed.
"Lucas mentioned you once. He said you were the only lawyer he trusted with something important.""
Daniel nodded.
"Then I suspect he knew what he was doing.""
Natalie sat beside me.
"What happened at the house?""
I told her everything.
The forged signature.
My father's grip on my wrist.
The porch.
The letter.
Victoria's name.
Natalie listened without interrupting. When I finished, she took my hand and squeezed it.
"Charles is going to regret this.""
Daniel placed Lucas's letter on the bedside table.
"We need to be careful. If Victoria is involved, this may be bigger than a property dispute.""
Natalie frowned.
"Victoria Hale? Emily's aunt?""
"Yes.""
"She's dead.""
"That's what we're trying to verify.""
Natalie looked at me.
"Em, do you remember what happened the week before the fire?""
I blinked.
"Not really.""
"Your father said you were too upset to attend the memorial planning. But you told me later that you had received a phone call from Victoria that week.""
I searched my memory.
"I did?""
"You called me crying. You said she'd sounded frightened.""
A chill moved through me.
I remembered the phone call now.
I'd been folding baby clothes in the nursery when my phone rang from an unknown number. A woman's voice had whispered my name.
"Emily, if anything happens to me, don't believe Charles.""
I'd asked what she meant.
Then the line had gone dead.
When I called the number back, it was disconnected.
I'd told my father about the call.
He'd looked me straight in the eyes and said grief was making me imagine things.
Two weeks later, Victoria was supposedly dead.
I stared at Natalie.
"Why didn't you remind me before?""
"Because I thought you'd remembered it. And because Charles told me you were having panic attacks.""
Daniel's expression became unreadable.
"He was already establishing a narrative.""
"What narrative?"" I asked.
"That you were unreliable.""
The room suddenly felt smaller.
My father had spent years telling me I was too emotional, too stubborn, too sensitive. After Lucas died, he'd repeated that I wasn't thinking clearly.
I'd accepted his criticism because grief had made every thought feel slippery.
But what if he'd been preparing me to doubt myself long before Lucas's death?
What if every accusation had been another brick in a wall designed to trap me?
My daughter moved beneath my ribs.
I placed a hand on my stomach.
"No more," I whispered.
Natalie squeezed my fingers.
"What?""
"No more letting him tell me what I remember. No more letting him decide what I deserve.""
Daniel nodded once.
"That's a good place to start.""
That evening, Dr. Patel informed me that the contractions had slowed, but the medical team wanted me to remain under observation. The baby was still being monitored, and no one was willing to promise that labor wouldn't resume.
I lay in bed while Natalie sat beside me, sorting through messages from friends who had heard about the ambulance.
Then Daniel returned from a meeting with the police.
He carried a slim black folder.
"I have an update.""
I pushed myself higher against the pillows.
"What did they say?""
"Your father has agreed to provide a statement. He claims you became violent, that you threatened him, and that he removed you from the house to protect himself.""
Natalie stood.
"He did what?""
Daniel raised a hand.
"There's more. Courtney has submitted a video.""
My stomach dropped.
"The video she took?""
"Yes. It begins after you were already outside.""
"Of course it does.""
"She claims it shows you behaving erratically and making threats.""
Natalie let out a bitter laugh.
"That woman deserves an award for being a professional liar.""
Daniel opened the folder.
"But the video has a timestamp. So do the emergency calls, the ambulance dispatch records, and the messages your father sent afterward.""
He placed a printed screenshot on the bed.
It showed my father standing in the doorway with his whiskey glass while I lay on the porch.
The time was visible in the corner.
10:47 a.m.
Another document showed the ambulance call had been placed minutes earlier.
"His story doesn't fit the timeline," Daniel said.
"And the paramedics have documented your condition.""
I exhaled shakily.
"Can he still get away with it?""
"That depends on the evidence. But he's made one serious mistake.""
"Which is?""
"He assumed you'd be too frightened to fight back.""
I looked at Lucas's letter.
"He knew this might happen.""
Daniel's expression grew heavy.
"Emily, I need to tell you something else.""
I waited.
"Three days before the accident, Lucas transferred a sealed evidence package to my office. It contains copies of financial records, internal correspondence, and a list of companies he believed were connected to the missing money.""
"Have you examined it?""
"Not all of it. Some files were encrypted. We were working to recover them when Lucas died.""
"Could the records prove my father stole from Lucas?""
"They could establish whether he was involved.""
I looked at the ceiling.
My father had always presented himself as a successful businessman. He drove expensive cars, wore custom suits, and hosted dinners where he spoke about integrity as though he had invented the word.
But there had been signs.
Sudden arguments about money.
Phone calls that ended when I entered the room.
Lucas once telling me that Charles had asked too many questions about his distribution contract.
I'd brushed it off.
Because Charles was my father.
Because I wanted to believe that somewhere beneath his cruelty, he loved me.
Daniel closed the folder.
"I'll arrange for the evidence to be examined by an independent forensic accountant. Until then, don't return to the house alone, and don't sign anything your father sends you.""
"I won't.""
"And Emily?""
"Yes?""
"If anyone contacts you claiming to speak for Lucas, call me first.""
I nodded.
He left the room.
Natalie went to get coffee, promising to return before I could complain about the hospital's terrible vending machines.
For the first time all day, I was alone.
I unfolded Lucas's letter again and traced his handwriting with my fingertip.
"I wish you were here," I whispered.
A knock sounded.
I looked up.
A nurse stepped inside carrying a small envelope.
"Emily Bennett?""
"Yes.""
"This was delivered to the front desk for you. The sender insisted it was urgent.""
I accepted it.
There was no return address.
Only three words written across the front in black ink.
*You were warned.*
My fingers went cold.
I opened the envelope.
Inside was a photograph.
It showed my father standing outside a restaurant, shaking hands with a woman whose face had been partially turned away from the camera.
She wore a dark coat and held a black umbrella.
But I recognized the bracelet on her wrist.
A silver chain with a tiny crescent moon.
Victoria had worn it for as long as I could remember.
I flipped the photograph over.
A message had been written on the back.
*Ask Charles who paid for the fire.*
I stared at the words until they blurred.
Then my phone buzzed.
An unknown number.
A text appeared.
*Your father didn't kill your aunt because she knew his secret. He helped her disappear because she knew yours.*
I stopped breathing.
Another message arrived.
*And if you want your daughter to live, don't trust the man who gave you Lucas's letter.*
I slowly turned toward the hospital room door.
Daniel Cross stood in the hallway, speaking quietly to someone on the phone.
He glanced through the open doorway.
Our eyes met.
Then he ended his call and walked toward me.
I clutched the photograph beneath the blanket.
For the first time since Lucas's death, I was afraid of the person who had promised to protect me.
Because the stranger who had sent the messages knew something I didn't.
Something about my husband.
Something about my father.
May you like
And something about the baby growing inside me.
Something that could destroy everything I thought I knew about my own family.
