Chapter 4 - Ghosts in the Light
The nurses changed shifts at 7 PM. Liam returned at midnight with bad coffee. He looked exhausted.
“There’s something you need to see,” he said quietly. He pulled out his phone and showed me a photograph.
It was a woman. Mid-forties. Silver-streaked hair pulled back in a neat bun. Sharp cheekbones. A smile that was practiced, professional, and utterly empty.
Who is that? I typed.
“Andrea. The CFO of Apex. As of three hours ago, she’s gone. Her office was wiped.” Liam’s voice dropped lower. “This photo was taken at a fundraising gala two years ago. Recognize anyone in the background?”
He zoomed in past Andrea’s shoulder. My blood went cold.
Standing at the edge of the photograph was a woman I had buried nine years ago.
My mother.
The funeral had been a closed casket—a private plane crash over open water with no bodies recovered. It had been a lie. She was alive.
That’s my mother, I typed, my hands shaking uncontrollably.
Liam nodded slowly. “I checked the date stamp. She was there, Clara. Nine years after she supposedly died. I’ve been digging all night, Clara... I don't think Dad died of a heart attack either. I think Dad’s death wasn’t natural. And I think Mom is part of all of it.”
Everything I had believed about my family was a lie. My father was a criminal. My mother was alive. My husband was an enforcer. And I was the only person alive who had access to the financial records that could prove all of it.
The door to my room opened at 3:47 AM.
A figure entered, backlit by the dim hallway light. A woman in a gray coat. Her hair was silver now, cut short at the jaw. Her face was older, thinner, sharper.
“Hello, Clara.”
Her voice had haunted my dreams for nine years.
I know about Andrea, I typed, my fingers trembling on the tablet screen. I know you didn’t die in a plane crash. You used me. You let Ethan marry me. You let him hurt me.
My mother’s composure cracked. Tears welled in her eyes. “I didn’t have a choice. When you’re in this world, Clara, there are no choices. There is only survival.”
Andrea is your sister, I typed. Just like Aunt Claire was.
“Andrea isn’t the one you need to worry about,” my mother said, stepping closer. “The real puppet master is still in the shadows.”
Who?
Her eyes met mine. Grief carved around them. “Your father.”
May you like
My hands froze over the tablet. Daddy died twelve years ago.
“Did he?” Her lips twisted in a bitter smile. “They put a body in the ground. But your father orchestrated his own death. He’s coming for the ledger, Clara. He’s coming for the evidence that can put him away forever. And he will do anything to get it back.”
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