“It only looked like a residential equity line in the account portal because the servicing bank mislabeled the digital product.
The underlying collateral is commercial.”
Derek grabbed the papers.
His eyes raced over them.
“This isn’t my signature.”
Rebecca nodded.
“Exactly.”
Now Derek looked at Claire.
Everything changed.
“Claire?”
She backed away.
“Derek, listen—”
“What did you do?”
“I was trying to help us.”
“You forged my name?”
“You said the gym was drowning!”
“I said business was slow!”
“You said you needed money!”
The entire room watched.
Derek looked sick.
Rebecca spoke.
“The sixty-five thousand was deposited into another company.”
“What company?”
I asked.
She looked at Claire.
“Northstar Wellness Consulting.”
Derek frowned.
“I’ve never heard of it.”
Claire was crying harder now.
Rebecca handed me the final page.
The owner of Northstar Wellness Consulting was listed under a name I recognized.
Not Claire.
Not Derek.
Melissa Ward.
My stomach dropped.
I looked at Claire.
“No.”
She whispered, “Cole…”
“Who is Melissa?”
Claire covered her face.
Derek looked between us.
“Who the hell is Melissa?”
I already knew the answer.
Or part of it.
Melissa Ward had been Claire’s younger sister.
She died nine years earlier.
Car accident.
At least, that was what I had been told.
I remember holding Claire in the hospital hallway.
I remember choosing flowers.
I remember carrying the casket with Claire’s father.
I remember Claire screaming when the cemetery workers lowered it.
“You used your dead sister’s name?”
Rebecca shook her head.
“No.”
My eyes turned toward her.
“What do you mean?”
Rebecca’s expression had changed.
The sarcasm was gone.
Now she looked almost gentle.
“Cole, Melissa Ward is alive.”
The gym vanished.
Every sound vanished.
I felt as though someone had opened the floor beneath me.
“That’s impossible.”
“I verified it.”
“No.”
“She lives in Charleston.”
“No.”
“She has for nearly eight years.”
I turned toward Claire.
Her face told me the truth before her mouth did.
I stepped backward.
“What did I bury?”
Claire began shaking.
Derek said, “What the hell is going on?”
I barely heard him.
“Claire.”
She looked at me.
“What did I bury?”
“A casket.”
“With who in it?”
“No one.”
The words were almost inaudible.
The room blurred.
I remembered the weight of the coffin.
The rain against the black umbrella.
Claire collapsing against me.
Her mother screaming.
Her father drinking himself unconscious that night.
