Chapter 9: The Trap With My Name On It
“Play it again.””
Michael hesitated.
“Sarah—”
“Play it.””
Daniel’s voice filled the office again.
Then we heard Patricia.
Then those words.
We make sure she looks like the thief.
My hands rested perfectly still on the desk.
That frightened me.
I expected to shake.
I expected to cry.
Instead, I felt cold.
Focused.
“What were they planning?””
Jessica looked at the flash drive.
“There’s an account.””
Michael opened another folder.
A spreadsheet appeared.
I saw transfers.
Dozens of them.
Hundreds of thousands of dollars moving between companies I didn’t recognize.
Then I saw a name.
Sarah Bennett Consulting LLC.
I stared.
“I don’t own that company.””
Michael leaned closer.
“When was it registered?””
Jessica pointed.
“Four years ago.””
I laughed once.
“I was teaching second grade four years ago.””
Michael looked at me.
“You’ve never operated a consulting business?””
“No.””
He studied the records.
“Then someone created one using your identity.””
My stomach turned.
The transfers continued.
Money entered the account.
Then disappeared into several others.
“How much?””
Michael calculated quietly.
“Approximately 2.8 million dollars.””
I stared at him.
“No.””
Jessica nodded.
“There’s more.””
Of course there was.
There was always more.
She opened another file.
Tax documents.
Contracts.
Authorization forms.
My name appeared everywhere.
My signature too.
Some looked convincing.
Others didn’t.
I stood.
“I need air.””
I walked toward the window.
Dallas glittered below me.
Thousands of lights.
Thousands of lives.
And somewhere beneath them was Daniel.
The man who once kissed my forehead and told me I was the safest place in his world.
I remembered our first apartment.
We had no dining table.
We ate pizza sitting on cardboard boxes.
Daniel held up a plastic cup of cheap wine and said,
“One day, I’ll give you everything.””
I had laughed.
“I don’t need everything.””
“What do you need?””
“You.””
That memory almost destroyed me.
Because maybe that version of Daniel had existed.
Or maybe I had invented him.
My phone rang.
Daniel.
I stared at his name.
Jessica whispered,
“Don’t answer.””
Michael said,
“Actually, answer.””
I looked at him.
He activated a recorder on the desk.
“Stay calm. Don’t accuse him of anything specific.””
I answered.
“Hello?””
Daniel breathed heavily.
“Where are you?””
“Why?””
“We need to talk.””
“We had nine years.””
“Sarah, this is serious.””
I looked at the fake company bearing my name.
“I’m listening.””
Daniel went quiet.
Then his voice softened.
“Come home.””
Home.
The word felt obscene.
“I don’t live there anymore.””
“You still have a key.””
“What do you want?””
Another pause.
“My mother made mistakes.””
I nearly laughed.
“Your mother?””
“Yes.””
“What about you?””
Silence.
Then:
“I can fix this.””
I looked at Michael.
He nodded for me to continue.
“How?””
“Sign something.””
There it was.
Even now.
Another signature.
Another document.
“What am I signing?””
“A statement.””
“Saying what?””
Daniel exhaled.
“That you knew about the transfers.””
Jessica closed her eyes.
Michael wrote something on a legal pad.
KEEP HIM TALKING.
I swallowed.
“But I didn’t.””
“I know.””
My heart stopped.
Daniel had just admitted it.
I looked at Michael.
His eyes sharpened.
“Then why would I sign?””
“Because if you don’t, this gets worse.””
“For whom?””
He hesitated.
“For everyone.””
“No, Daniel.””
My voice became stronger.
“For whom?””
His mask finally cracked.
“For me!””
The words exploded through the phone.
Then silence.
Daniel breathed hard.
“I could lose everything.””
I looked at the document giving me control of Whitmore Enterprises.
“You already lost something.””
“What?””
“Me.””
He said nothing.
Then another voice came through the phone.
Patricia.
Faint.
But clear.
“Stop talking to her!””
Daniel moved away.
“Mom, stay out of this.””
“You’ve said enough!””
Their voices became muffled.
Then Patricia shouted something that made Michael sit upright.
“She cannot find the original ledger!””
The line went dead.
Jessica stared at me.
Michael slowly lowered his pen.
“What ledger?””
Jessica’s face had gone pale.
“I think I know.””
She grabbed her purse.
“My father mentioned one before he died.””
“Where?””
She looked at me.
“The old Whitmore house.””
Michael immediately stood.
“We should not go there without legal authorization.””
Jessica shook her head.
“You don’t understand. Patricia still has access.””
My phone buzzed.
A message from Daniel.
Three words.
DON’T TRUST JESSICA.
I looked up at her.
At the fear in her eyes.
Then Michael’s phone rang.
He answered.
His expression changed almost immediately.
“When?””
He listened.
Then looked at me.
“What happened?”” I asked.
Michael slowly lowered the phone.
“Someone just entered the old Whitmore property.””
Jessica went white.
“Patricia.””
Michael shook his head.
“No.””
He turned the phone toward us.
A security image showed a man entering through the side door.
May you like
Daniel.
And in his hand was a red metal box.
