Rebecca stared at the banking notification like the screen had stopped being real.
The identity connected to Charlotte’s original records was active.
Three days ago.
Three.
Days.
Ago.
“That’s impossible,” Mauro snapped immediately.
Nobody had even noticed him walk back into the room.
His hair was messy.
His shirt wrinkled.
His face pale from an entire night without sleep.
But what caught my attention was this:
He looked scared.
Not angry.
Scared.
Veronica slowly turned the laptop toward herself again.
“The account activity came from a private medical payment processor,” she murmured. “Someone using Charlotte’s old identity paid for a prescription.”
Rebecca’s breathing became uneven.
“She’s alive…”
Mauro slammed both hands against the table.
“No. No, this is exactly what somebody wants you to believe.”
Rebecca looked up sharply.
“What does that mean?”
“It means you’re being manipulated,” he snapped. “Can’t you see that?”
But Veronica narrowed her eyes.
“You seem extremely nervous about this.”
Mauro laughed harshly.
“Because this entire situation is insane.”
“No,” Rebecca whispered. “I think you’re afraid.”
That hit him hard.
His jaw tightened instantly.
“You want to know what I’m afraid of?” he barked. “I’m afraid you’re destroying everything over fairy tales and forged records.”
Rebecca stood slowly.
“No,” she said again. “You’re afraid because this is real.”
Silence.
For one terrible second, Mauro looked like he wanted to say something else.
Something dangerous.
But instead he grabbed his jacket.
“I’m done with this.”
Then he walked out.
Too quickly.
Veronica watched the door close.
“He knows something.”
Rebecca nodded faintly.
“Yes.”
And for the first time since this nightmare began…
I think she truly believed it.
Three hours later, Mauro sat alone inside his parked car across the street from Miller Biotech.
Rain slid slowly across the windshield.
His hands shook while dialing a number from memory.
The person answered immediately.
“You shouldn’t be calling me,” the voice said coldly.
“We have a problem,” Mauro whispered.
A pause.
Then:
“How much does she know?”
Mauro looked toward the company building.
“She found the storage unit.”
Silence.
Long silence.
Then the voice became dangerous.
“And the records?”
“She has some of them.”
“Some?”
Mauro slammed his fist against the steering wheel.
“I don’t KNOW how many!”
Another silence.
Then quietly:
“You were told years ago to stay away from this.”
Mauro closed his eyes.
“I didn’t think the old woman would talk.”
“That was your first mistake.”
Mauro swallowed hard.
“And my second?”
The answer came instantly.
“Marrying Rebecca.”
The line disconnected.
Mauro stared at the dead phone screen.
Sweat rolled slowly down his temple.
Because for the first time in years…
he realized he was no longer being protected.
“The Break-In”
Rebecca returned to her office the next morning.
Everything felt different now.
The glass walls.
The employees.
The elevators.
Even the silence inside the executive floor felt wrong.
Like somebody had already been there before her.
Veronica noticed it too.
“The door was unlocked,” she murmured.
Rebecca froze.
She always locked her office personally.
Always.
Slowly, she stepped inside.
Nothing looked damaged.
No broken drawers.
No overturned furniture.
No shattered glass.
Everything appeared perfectly normal.
Which somehow made it worse.
Veronica moved carefully toward Rebecca’s desk.
Then stopped.
“Rebecca…”
Her voice dropped immediately.
Rebecca walked closer.
The bottom drawer was open slightly.
Only slightly.
But enough.
Rebecca’s stomach tightened.
She yanked it open completely.
Empty.
“No…”
Veronica frowned.
“What was inside?”
Rebecca looked pale.
“A file.”
“What kind of file?”
Rebecca swallowed hard.
“My mother’s private investigator records.”
Silence.
Veronica’s expression darkened instantly.
“Someone knew exactly what to take.”
Rebecca spun toward the office door.
“Security footage.”
—
Twenty minutes later they sat inside the surveillance room.
The technician looked nervous.
“Ma’am… I don’t understand.”
“Show me last night,” Rebecca ordered.
He clicked through recordings.
Parking garage.
Lobby.
Elevators.
Everything normal.
Then midnight.
The executive floor camera flickered once.
Twice.
And then—
black screen.
For exactly fourteen minutes.
Veronica stared at it.
“That’s not random.”
The technician looked confused.
“But there’s more.”
He rewound another angle.
Loading dock camera.
A figure wearing a dark coat exited the building at 12:18 AM.
Face hidden.
Hat low.
But Rebecca suddenly leaned forward.
“Stop.”
The technician froze the frame.
Rebecca’s heart started pounding.
The figure held something under one arm.
A red file.
Her missing file.
Veronica narrowed her eyes.
“Can you zoom?”
The image blurred badly.
But one detail remained visible.
A silver watch.
Rebecca knew that watch.
Because she bought it herself three years ago.
For Mauro.
BOOM.
“The Other Girl”
Rebecca couldn’t stop staring at the frozen image.
The silver watch glimmered faintly beneath the security light.
Mauro’s watch.
The one she gave him during their first wedding anniversary trip to Florence.
The same trip where he held her hand and promised:
“You’ll never have to face anything alone again.”
Rebecca almost laughed at the memory now.
Veronica slowly folded her arms.
“He broke into your office.”
Rebecca nodded numbly.
“But why steal only that file?”
Neither of them answered immediately.
Because they both already knew.
The file contained something dangerous.
Something bigger than fraud.
Bigger than the divorce.
Something connected to Charlotte.
Rebecca suddenly remembered the notebook from the storage unit.
FIND CHARLOTTE BEFORE THEY DO.
Before they.
Plural.
Not one person.
Multiple.
Her chest tightened instantly.
“Veronica…”
“Yes?”
“What if Charlotte was hiding?”
Veronica looked at her carefully.
“You think she knows someone is searching for her?”
Rebecca’s voice dropped lower.
“I think someone may have spent years making sure she stayed hidden.”
Silence.
Then Rebecca remembered something else.
A memory from childhood.
Small.
Strange.
But suddenly important.
“There was another bedroom,” she whispered.
Veronica frowned.
“What?”
“In my grandfather’s estate.”
Rebecca stared into space now.
“When I was little, there was a locked room near the east hallway.”
The memory became clearer while she spoke.
“A pink blanket.”
“A music box.”
“A framed drawing signed with the letter C.”
Her breathing became uneven.
“My mother used to stand outside that room crying.”
Veronica went still.
“Rebecca…”
“She told me it belonged to ‘the other girl.’”
The room became completely silent.
Rebecca slowly sat down.
“Oh my God.”
She had forgotten it.
Forgotten all of it.
Or maybe…
forced herself to.
Then Veronica’s phone rang.
Unknown number.
She answered carefully.
“Hello?”
Nobody spoke.
Only breathing.
Then a distorted voice whispered:
“Tell Rebecca to stop opening graves.”
The line disconnected instantly.
Veronica lowered the phone slowly.
Rebecca looked terrified now.
“Who was that?”
Veronica’s expression hardened.
“Someone watching us.”
“The Burned File”
That night, Rebecca refused to stay alone.
Not because she was weak.
Because for the first time in her life…
she understood that this wasn’t just family drama anymore.
Someone was actively trying to erase the past.
And possibly willing to hurt people to keep it buried.
Rain hammered against the windows while Veronica reviewed copied documents in the dining room.
Rebecca sat silently nearby, staring at old photographs again.
Rose holding a child.
Rose crying outside a hospital.
Rose standing beside a man whose face had been scratched out violently.
Rebecca touched the damaged photo carefully.
“Who are you?” she whispered.
Then suddenly—
the alarm system exploded.
Both women jumped.
Motion detection.
Rear entrance.
Veronica stood instantly.
“Stay here.”
“No.”
Rebecca grabbed the fireplace poker beside the mantel.
Together they moved through the dark hallway.
The security lights outside flashed violently through the rain.
The back door stood slightly open.
Cold air poured inside.
Veronica cursed under her breath.
“Someone’s here.”
Rebecca’s heart pounded so hard it hurt.
Then she smelled it.
Smoke.
“Oh my God…”
They ran toward the study.
Rebecca stopped dead in the doorway.
Fire.
Small.
Controlled.
Burning directly inside the fireplace.
But nobody had lit it earlier.
Veronica grabbed the iron poker immediately and pulled the burning papers apart.
Rebecca’s stomach dropped.
Red folders.
Investigation documents.
Her missing file.
Or what remained of it.
Someone had broken into the house.
Just to destroy the evidence.
Rebecca stared at the flames in horror.
Then Veronica suddenly froze.
“What?”
Veronica carefully pulled out one half-burned paper.
Only part of the page survived.
But it was enough.
Rebecca stepped closer.
And saw a photograph attached to the report.
A woman.
Dark hair.
Sharp eyes.
Maybe mid-thirties.
Alive.
Across the bottom someone had typed:
CHARLOTTE HERRERA
Confirmed sighting — six months ago.
Rebecca stopped breathing.
Because the woman in the photograph looked almost exactly like her….
