Chapter 4 - MY SISTER FINALLY TOLD ME WHY
“Where is Dad?”
My voice came out sharper than I expected.
Chloe didn't answer.
She looked at Daniel.
“Who is he?”
“Someone who knows Dad.”
She stared at the watch in her hand.
“I took this before Mom could destroy it.”
I stepped forward.
“Give it to me.”
She hesitated.
Then she did.
The watch was cold.
I turned it over.
The back plate had been scratched open.
Someone had tried to pry it apart.
“What is inside?”
Chloe looked at me.
“A memory card.”
My heart stopped.
“You knew?”
“I found it two weeks ago.”
“And you said nothing?”
She swallowed.
“Because Mom threatened me.”
Daniel stepped closer.
“With what?”
Chloe looked at me.
“With Dad.”
I stared at her.
“She said if I told you anything, she'd stop paying for his care.”
I felt anger rise.
“You helped her.”
“I know.”
“You watched her steal his medication money.”
“I know.”
“You watched her kick me.”
Chloe's eyes filled.
“I know.”
She looked down.
“And I hated myself for it.”
I wanted to forgive her.
I couldn't.
Not yet.
“Where is Dad?”
“Safe.”
I didn't believe her.
“Where?”
“At a rehabilitation center.”
I stared.
“Why?”
“He collapsed this morning.”
The world went quiet.
Chloe continued.
“I took him there after Mom left him at the bank.”
Daniel's jaw tightened.
“Why didn't you call Shayla?”
“Because Mom had her phone monitored.”
I looked at Chloe.
“My phone?”
“Not the phone itself.”
She pointed to my laptop bag.
“The account.”
“What account?”
“The one Mom used to track your financial activity.”
My stomach dropped.
She explained.
When I was injured overseas, Mom had helped me with insurance paperwork.
I had signed several general authorization forms.
She had used those forms to create a digital financial profile.
That was how the seven companies had been built.
But Chloe had discovered something more disturbing.
Mom had not forged my signature from scratch.
She had copied it from military and insurance documents.
Then she used software to reproduce it.
The seven companies had been created to move money through real estate, equipment leasing, consulting, and medical billing.
My identity had become the signature on everything.
I looked at Daniel.
“Why would she need my identity?”
Chloe answered.
“Because your veteran status gave her credibility.”
That hurt more than I expected.
She had used the part of my life that had nearly destroyed my body to build her financial empire.
Then Chloe handed me the memory card.
“There's more.”
We inserted it into Daniel's laptop.
A video opened.
Mom was sitting at the kitchen table.
Across from her was the man from Rutherford Private Capital.
They were discussing money.
Then Mom said:
“Shayla will never notice.”
The man answered:
“She will if her father dies.”
Mom looked directly at him.
“Then he won't die.”
I froze.
She knew.
She knew Dad was running out of medication.
The video continued.
“We need his signature on the transfer.”
“He can't sign.”
“Then use the daughter's.”
My hands went cold.
The transfer.
What transfer?
The man placed a folder on the table.
The label read:
BENNETT FAMILY PROPERTY TRUST.
I looked at Chloe.
“What is that?”
“I don't know.”
Daniel paused the video.
“There's another file.”
He opened it.
A scanned document appeared.
My father had owned a small piece of land outside the city.
Not valuable enough to attract attention.
But it had recently been rezoned.
Now it was worth millions.
Mom had been trying to transfer it.
Using my signature.
I stared at the screen.
“Dad wouldn't sell it.”
“No,” Chloe said.
“He refused.”
“Why?”
She looked at me.
“Because that land was supposed to belong to you.”
My throat tightened.
“For me?”
“Dad bought it when you were deployed.”
She showed me a photograph.
A small piece of wooded property.
On the back, Dad had written:
For Shayla, when she finally comes home.
I began to cry.
My father had been planning for my future while my mother was stealing from it.
Then Daniel noticed something in the video.
“Wait.”
He rewound.
Mom had placed a red folder beside the trust documents.
There was a photograph clipped to it.
A woman.
I didn't recognize her.
Chloe did.
She went pale.
“Who is she?”
Chloe whispered:
“Mom's old business partner.”
“Name?”
“Rebecca Sloan.”
Daniel froze.
“That's impossible.”
I looked at him.
“Why?”
“Because Rebecca Sloan died twelve years ago.”
We stared at the photograph.
Then Daniel zoomed in.
The date on the photograph was only six months old.
Someone had taken a photograph of a supposedly dead woman.
And she was standing beside my mother.
Chloe looked terrified.
“There was one thing Mom always told me about Rebecca.”
“What?”
“She said Rebecca knew where all the money was buried.”
The video ended.
Then another file appeared.
A bank statement.
Thirty-eight thousand dollars.
Every payment I had made for Dad's care.
The money had not gone into renovations.
It had gone into a separate account.
And the account holder was not my mother.
It was Rebecca Sloan.
Daniel stared at the screen.
“That means your mother wasn't the final beneficiary.”
I looked at him.
“Then who was?”
Before he could answer, Chloe's phone rang.
She looked at the screen.
Mom.
Chloe declined it.
The phone immediately rang again.
This time, a text appeared.
BRING THE WATCH TO THE OLD TRAIN STATION. COME ALONE.
Then another message arrived.
IF YOU WANT YOUR FATHER ALIVE.
I looked at Chloe.
Daniel reached for his jacket.
“No one goes alone.”
But Chloe shook her head.
“You don't understand.”
“What?”
She turned the phone around.
The message wasn't from Mom.
It was from Rebecca Sloan.
May you like
And beneath the name was a photograph of Dad.
Tied to a chair.
