Chapter 6 - The Death Certificate
I read the sentence three times.
Then I looked at Mercer.
“I’m alive.”
“I’m aware.”
“Why would anyone need my death certificate?”
“To close a beneficiary-controlled trust.”
My mouth went dry.
“Are you saying someone planned to declare me dead?”
“I’m saying someone researched what would happen if you were.”
Dad’s attorney stood immediately.
“This conversation is over.”
Mercer ignored him.
“There are email fragments on the drive.”
“From whom?”
“We’re still determining that.”
Mom buried her face in her hands.
Dad said nothing.
That frightened me more.
I walked toward him.
“Did you plan to fake my death?”
His head snapped up.
“Don’t be ridiculous.”
“Then why are you not shocked?”
“I am shocked.”
“No, Dad.”
I stepped closer.
“You’re calculating.”
He looked almost offended.
“You have always had a flair for drama.”
I laughed.
The sound surprised even me.
“Mom hit me in front of two hundred witnesses because I wouldn’t hand over my home, your son-in-law ran from federal agents, and investigators just found instructions about obtaining my death certificate.”
I pointed at him.
“This is not drama.”
“This is your family.”
His expression changed.
Only slightly.
But I saw something I had ignored my whole life.
Contempt.
Not anger.
Not disappointment.
Contempt.
“You were never supposed to become this difficult.”
The words were quiet.
Mercer heard them.
So did Lily.
She slowly stood.
“What does that mean?”
Dad turned toward her.
“Nothing.”
“You said Claire was selfish.”
“She is.”
“You said Grandma left everything to you.”
“She did.”
“Mom just said she didn’t.”
Dad’s patience broke.
“I built this family.”
His voice echoed through the ballroom.
“I paid for everything you people have enjoyed.”
I stared at him.
“With Grandma’s money?”
He went silent.
There was our answer.
Mom began crying harder.
Lily shook her head.
“All of it?”
Dad glared at her.
“Your schools.”
“My wedding?”
Silence.
“My apartment?”
More silence.
Lily covered her mouth.
I suddenly understood why my parents had pushed so hard for my penthouse.
Their wealth was not wealth.
It was borrowed money supported by assets they had stolen or controlled illegally.
And something had changed.
Maybe loans were coming due.
Maybe the trust had become inaccessible.
Maybe they needed my penthouse as collateral because everything else was collapsing.
Mercer received a call.
He listened for less than thirty seconds.
Then he looked at Dad.
“Mr. Holloway, officers executing the residential warrant just found a locked file cabinet in your study.”
Dad’s face drained.
Mercer continued.
“Inside were three death certificate applications.”
The ballroom went silent.
May you like
“All three were for Claire.”
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