Chapter 1 - The CaneWhen I opened my front door, my wife was raising my dead father's cane over my nephew's head.
Noah had both arms wrapped around Lily, shielding her against the hallway wall. My five-year-old daughter was sobbing so hard she could barely breathe. Vanessa stood three feet away, white-knuckled and furious, the black walnut cane lifted like a club.
“Put it down.”
She spun toward me. “Daniel, you don't understand.”
“I understand enough. Put. It. Down.”
Something in my voice made her hesitate.
I crossed the room, pulled Lily behind me, and moved Noah toward the kitchen. His face was pale, but his eyes were fixed on Vanessa with an expression I had never seen in a child.
Vanessa lowered the cane an inch.
“He went into your office,” she said.
Noah swallowed. “Uncle Dan—”
“Not now.”
Lily clutched my shirt. “Daddy, files. Noah found files.”
Vanessa's phone began ringing on the entry table.
She grabbed it and answered without looking at the screen.
A man's voice came through the speaker.
“Did Carter see the death certificate?”
The room went silent.
Vanessa froze.
I froze.
“Vanessa?” the man said.
She killed the call.
Too late.
I looked at her. “What death certificate?”
“It was nothing.”
Noah pointed toward my office. “Top drawer. Under the tax folders.”
Vanessa lunged.
I caught her wrist. The cane hit the floor with a crack that made Lily scream again.
“Don't,” I said.
For one second, something changed in Vanessa's face. The fear vanished. The anger disappeared.
What remained was colder than either.
I walked into my office and opened the drawer.
There was a manila folder I had never seen before.
Inside was a certified copy of a death certificate.
CLAIRE MARIE CARTER.
My sister.
Date of death: thirteen months earlier.
Cause: complications from blunt-force head trauma.
Physician: Dr. Marcus Hale.
My father's former private doctor. A current member of our company's board.
My hands began to shake.
For thirteen months, I had received emails from Claire. Bank notices. Angry messages. One final warning telling me not to look for her.
I walked back into the hallway holding the paper.
“Where is Claire?”
Vanessa stared at the certificate.
“I don't know.”
“You're lying.”
Her mouth tightened.
“Why do you have this?”
She looked at me, then at Noah, and finally stopped pretending.
“It wasn't how you were supposed to find out.”
A door slammed somewhere behind the house.
May you like
Vanessa's expression changed again.
This time, she looked relieved.
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