Chapter 3 - The Secret Alias
The confrontation in the office ended when heavy footsteps echoed in the hallway, followed by Vanessa’s sharp, frantic voice calling out, “Daniel? Daniel, are you in there? People are leaving!”
Daniel glared at me with pure venom before smoothing his expression and pulling open the door. “I’m right here, honey. Just… discussing family arrangements with Emma.”
Vanessa brushed past him, her eyes bloodshot—whether from actual grief or self-pity was impossible to tell. She locked her gaze onto me, her chest heaving beneath her black dress.
“Emma, please,” Vanessa pleaded, clasping her hands together in a theatrical gesture. “We know you’re angry. You have every right to be angry. But airing dirty laundry during a time like this is barbaric. Let’s sit down like civilized adults tomorrow morning and figure out how to divide things.”
“Divide things?” I repeated, letting out a cold, humorless chuckle. “Vanessa, you’re talking about dividing assets as if Sofia were a dissolved corporation.”
“She’s our daughter!” Vanessa cried, her voice rising just enough for the guests downstairs to hear. “Don’t you dare act like you loved her more than I did!”
“I was the one who held her hand while her heart stopped beating, Vanessa,” I said softly, stepping toward her until she flinched. “Where were you? Oh, right—posting geotagged photos on Instagram under a private burner account.”
Vanessa froze. The color drained completely from her face. “What… what did you say?”
“You think because you used a secondary iCloud account under the pseudonym ‘V. Sterling’ that I wouldn't trace it?” I asked, leaning in close. “IP addresses don't lie, Vanessa. Neither do credit card records for luxury yacht rentals in the Lesser Antilles.”
Daniel stepped between us again, his expression turning ugly. “You’ve been spying on us. How long have you been spying on us?”
“Long enough to know that Sofia’s death wasn't just a tragic medical failure,” I said, locking eyes with both of them. “It was convenient. For both of you.”
Downstairs, the front door clicked shut as the last of the mourners departed. The sudden silence in the grand foyer felt heavy, suffocating. Vanessa grabbed the edge of the mahogany desk for support, her knees buckling slightly.
“You’re making things up,” Vanessa whispered, her voice trembling. “You’ve always been jealous of me. Jealous that I had the husband, the child, the life you couldn't have.”
“Jealous?” I laughed, the sound echoing off the high ceiling. “Vanessa, I supported your family for five years. I paid your mortgage when your boutique failed. I covered Daniel’s bad debts when his architectural firm went under. And how did you repay me? By letting your own daughter die so you could jet off to a tropical hideaway with my husband.”
Daniel’s face flushed an angry crimson. “She was my wife too, Emma! Well—Vanessa is my partner. You and I haven't been truly married in years. You were married to your spreadsheets!”
“Then why didn't you ask for a divorce, Daniel?” I asked quietly. “Because a divorce would have meant splitting the assets, and you needed my income to keep up your lavish lifestyle while you looted Sofia’s trust fund.”
Vanessa suddenly straightened up, wiping her dry cheeks with the back of her hand. The pathetic, weeping sister persona vanished in an instant, replaced by the cold, calculating woman I had grown up with.
“You think you have us cornered, Emma?” Vanessa sneered, her lips curling into a bitter smile. “You think you can wave some stolen bank statements around and ruin us? Try it. See what happens when we tell the police and the press that you’re a bitter, unstable aunt who hacked into private family accounts out of psychotic jealousy.”
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“Try it,” I replied, unzipping a leather portfolio on my desk and pulling out three pristine copies of a federal complaint. “The U.S. Attorney’s office loves financial fraud cases involving interstate wire transfers and embezzlement of medical trusts. I filed the preliminary package at noon today.”
Both of them stared at the papers in my hand as if they were venomous snakes. The arrogant bravado collapsed instantly, leaving behind pure, unadulterated terror.
