Chapter 7 - Shadows in the Mirror
My hands shook so violently that the paper rattled in the quiet waiting room.
Dr. Arthur Vance. My father, who had died four years ago in a sudden, tragic car accident. The father I had mourned, the man whose memory I cherished, the gentle country doctor who had raised me alone after my mother passed.
I frantically shuffled through the documents beneath the ledger until I found a blue folder labeled VANCE MEDICAL SERVICES.
Inside were bank transfer receipts, copies of prescription logs, and signed non-disclosure agreements dating back six years.
My father hadn't died in a random accident. He had been Conrad Voss’s personal physician.
It was my father who had supplied Conrad with the neuromuscular paralytics used on Elara. It was my father who had signed off on fake medical reports claiming Elara was suffering from early-onset dementia and bipolar paranoia before she "vanished."
And when my father tried to back out—when the guilt became too much for him—Conrad had cut the brake lines on his car.
The room spun around me. The walls seemed to close in, suffocating me.
Everything I thought I knew about my life was a lie.
Conrad hadn't met me by accident at that charity gala eighteen months ago. He hadn't fallen in love with a quiet, lonely museum archivist out of the goodness of his heart. He had sought me out. He had courted me, brought me into his home, and proposed to me because I was the final loose end.
By marrying me, he made sure I would never ask questions about my father's estate or the dark financial transfers left in my father's accounts. He was tying up the bloodline. He was keeping his enemies close—and making sure that if the truth ever came out, I would be implicated as an accomplice to my father's crimes.
"He used you to help erase me," Elara’s whispered words from the rehearsal dinner echoed in my head with terrifying clarity.
She hadn't just meant that I was her physical replacement. She meant that my name, my presence, and my father's legacy were the final pieces Conrad needed to cement his total immunity.
A shadow suddenly fell across the floor of the waiting room.
I snapped the folder shut and looked up.
Standing in the doorway of the waiting room were two men in dark gray suits. They were tall, heavily built, and carried the unmistakable air of high-priced corporate fixers.
"Miss Vance?" one of them said. His voice was smooth, devoid of emotion. "We represent Voss Financial Holdings. Our client, Mr. Conrad Voss, has instructed us to retrieve his personal property."
His eyes flicked down to the steel box sitting on the table in front of me.
May you like
"He is currently in police custody," I said, my voice cold, despite the terror knotting my throat.
"A temporary misunderstanding," the second man replied, taking a step toward me. "The charges are already being reviewed by the District Attorney’s office. Mr. Voss will be posted bail within the hour. Now, please... hand over the box."
