PART 5 — THE MAN WHO THOUGHT I WAS DEAD
I read the message three times.
Ask him why your real father thinks you died eleven years ago.
My hands went numb.
Claire reached for the phone.
I pulled it away.
“No.”
“Sydney—”
“No more taking things away from me.”
Her face crumpled.
Thomas was already moving toward the front door.
“Stay inside.”
He stepped onto the porch and scanned the street.
No one.
Only parked cars.
Dark windows.
A porch light flickering two houses down.
Whoever had taken the photograph was gone.
Or hiding.
Thomas came back inside and locked the door.
“Denise, call the police.”
Denise was already doing it.
Claire grabbed the edge of the counter.
“We need to go to the hospital.”
Thomas looked at her.
“You’re not coming.”
“What?”
“Daniel specifically said Sydney and me.”
“He doesn’t get to decide that.”
Thomas stared at her.
“After tonight, I’m not sure you get to decide much either.”
Claire flinched.
I expected her to argue.
She didn’t.
I looked at Denise.
“Can I go?”
She hesitated.
Normally, that question probably would’ve required a dozen calls and approvals.
But nothing about that night was normal.
“A police officer can accompany us.”
Thomas nodded.
Claire stepped toward me.
“Sydney, please.”
I stopped.
She looked terrified.
“If Daniel tells you something about me—”
I almost laughed.
“Something else?”
Her eyes filled with tears.
“There are things I did because I thought I was protecting you.”
“You watched me go hungry from Europe.”
She closed her eyes.
“I know.”
“You lied about my father.”
“I know.”
“You lied about being my mother.”
Her face twisted.
“I raised you.”
That one hurt.
Because it was true.
Whatever else Claire had done, she had been there for fevers.
School pictures.
Birthdays.
Bad dreams.
She was the person I called Mom.
But she had also stood in front of me and built my entire identity on lies.
I looked at her.
“Raising me doesn’t mean you got to erase everyone else.”
She had no answer.
Ten minutes later, I was sitting in the back seat of Thomas’s car with a police cruiser behind us.
Mrs. Alvarez stayed with Claire.
Denise came too.
Nobody talked much during the drive.
Streetlights passed across the windows.
I kept reading the anonymous messages.
Daniel is not your father.
But he knows who is.
Ask him why your real father thinks you died eleven years ago.
I stared at those words until they started to blur.
Thomas looked at me through the rearview mirror.
“You okay?”
“No.”
He nodded.
“Fair answer.”
I looked at him.
“Did you really never know?”
“About Emily being your biological mother?”
“Yes.”
“No.”
“How?”
“My family was already falling apart by then.”
He tightened his grip on the steering wheel.
“My father was sick. Daniel and Claire were fighting. Emily had moved away for almost a year.”
“Pregnant?”
“I guess so.”
“You never saw her?”
“Once.”
“When?”
“About three months before you were born.”
I leaned forward.
“Was she pregnant?”
Thomas hesitated.
“Yes.”
My chest tightened.
“And nobody asked?”
“She said she was carrying for a friend.”
I stared at him.
“You believed that?”
“At the time? Yes.”
He gave a bitter laugh.
“We believed a lot of stupid things back then.”
The hospital appeared ahead.
Bright windows.
Emergency entrance.
People moving under fluorescent lights.
The police officer met us at the front.
Daniel was on the fourth floor.
The elevator ride felt endless.
When the doors opened, a nurse was waiting.
“Thomas Mercer?”
“Yes.”
“And Sydney?”
I raised my hand slightly.
The nurse’s expression softened.
“He’s awake, but weak.”
“Can I see him?”
“Yes.”
Then she looked at Thomas.
“He’s been extremely agitated.”
“Why?”
“He keeps asking whether the room is secure.”
Thomas glanced at the police officer.
“Did he say who he’s afraid of?”
“No.”
The nurse lowered her voice.
“But he keeps repeating one name.”
“What name?”
“Emily.”
My entire body went cold.
Thomas stopped walking.
“My sister?”
The nurse nodded.
“He says she’s alive.”
Thomas stared at her.
“That isn’t possible.”
“That’s what he keeps saying.”
We reached the room.
Daniel was lying in bed with a bandage around his head.
He looked older than I’d imagined.
Tired.
Gray at the temples.
There were bruises along one side of his face.
For several seconds, he didn’t notice us.
Then his eyes moved toward the door.
He saw Thomas first.
Then me.
Everything in his face changed.
“Sydney.”
Hearing him say my name in person nearly broke something inside me.
I walked closer.
“You know me?”
Daniel swallowed.
“I’ve known you your whole life.”
I didn’t know what to say.
He lifted one hand weakly.
Not toward me.
Just into the air between us.
Like he wanted to reach out but didn’t believe he had the right.
“You look like her.”
“Emily?”
His eyes filled.
“Yes.”
I sat in the chair beside the bed.
Thomas remained standing.
“Daniel, what happened?”
Daniel looked toward the door.
“Close it.”
Thomas did.
The officer remained outside.
Daniel looked back at me.
“Claire told you?”
“Some.”
“Some is dangerous.”
“What does that mean?”
“It means half a truth can ruin more lives than a lie.”
I stared at him.
“Then tell me everything.”
Daniel closed his eyes.
For a moment, I thought he might refuse.
Then he said:
“Emily disappeared because someone wanted you.”
My heartbeat changed.
“Who?”
“Your father.”
I leaned forward.
“You know who he is?”
Daniel opened his eyes.
“Yes.”
“Who?”
He looked at Thomas.
Then back at me.
“His name is Michael Voss.”
The name meant nothing to me.
Thomas reacted differently.
He stepped backward.
“No.”
Daniel nodded.
“Yes.”
Thomas whispered, “Emily was with Michael Voss?”
“For nearly two years.”
“Why didn’t she tell us?”
“Because Dad found out.”
Their father.
My grandfather.
Thomas’s face hardened.
“And?”
“And he hated him.”
“Why?”
Daniel looked at me.
“Michael wasn’t a criminal.”
That answer surprised me.
“He wasn’t dangerous?”
“No.”
“Then why did Grandpa hate him?”
“Because Michael came from nothing.”
Thomas swore quietly.
Daniel continued.
“Dad had plans for Emily. Marriage. Family connections. Money. Michael didn’t fit any of it.”
I stared at him.
“So Emily hid the pregnancy?”
“Yes.”
“And me?”
“Yes.”
“What happened after I was born?”
Daniel’s eyes darkened.
“Everything.”
He took a slow breath.
“Emily wanted to leave with Michael.”
“Why didn’t she?”
“Because Dad threatened her.”
Thomas stepped closer.
“With what?”
“Her inheritance.”
Thomas gave a bitter laugh.
“That sounds like him.”
Daniel shook his head.
“Not just that.”
He looked at me.
“He threatened to take Sydney.”
I felt sick.
“How?”
“He had lawyers. Money. Connections. He told Emily he’d prove she was unstable.”
“Was she?”
“No.”
Daniel answered immediately.
“She was scared.”
Thomas rubbed his forehead.
“And the safe-deposit box?”
Daniel nodded.
“Dad created it after Emily threatened to expose what he’d been doing.”
“What was he doing?”
Daniel looked away.
“Moving money.”
Thomas froze.
“From the family trust?”
“Yes.”
“That old account.”
“Yes.”
Thomas stared at his brother.
“How much?”
“Millions.”
Silence.
I barely understood what that meant.
But Thomas did.
“Dad was stealing from his own trust?”
“He was hiding money from creditors.”
“And Emily knew?”
“She found the records.”
“So Dad made the box?”
“He put copies inside.”
Thomas shook his head.
“That makes no sense.”
“It was leverage.”
“Against who?”
“Everyone.”
Daniel’s voice grew weaker.
“He gave Claire access because she was supposed to act as a neutral witness if anything happened to him.”
I thought of Claire saying she didn’t know why she’d been given access.
Another lie.
Thomas looked angry.
“She knew?”
“Not all of it.”
“But enough.”
“Yes.”
I interrupted.
“What does any of this have to do with my real father thinking I died?”
Daniel went still.
That was the question he didn’t want.
I leaned closer.
“Tell me.”
He looked at me.
“When Emily gave birth, your grandfather panicked.”
“Why?”
“Because Michael had already hired an attorney.”
“To get custody?”
“To establish paternity.”
My stomach twisted.
“Okay.”
“Dad believed that once Michael was legally recognized as your father, he would lose control of Emily.”
“So?”
“So he created a plan.”
Thomas whispered, “Daniel.”
Daniel ignored him.
“He convinced Emily that Michael had abandoned her.”
“What?”
“He forged letters.”
I stared at him.
“He forged what?”
“Letters from Michael saying he wanted nothing to do with her or the baby.”
My throat tightened.
“Did she believe him?”
“For a while.”
“And Michael?”
“Dad told Michael something worse.”
I already knew.
I just didn’t want to hear it.
Daniel looked directly at me.
“He told Michael the baby died.”
My eyes burned.
“What?”
“He told him there were complications after delivery.”
I couldn’t breathe.
“He told my father I died?”
“Yes.”
“And everyone just let him?”
“No.”
Daniel’s voice cracked.
“Emily found out.”
Thomas closed his eyes.
“When?”
“Six weeks later.”
The night my grandfather died.
I remembered Claire’s words.
Emily disappeared that night.
“What happened?”
Daniel stared at the ceiling.
“Emily confronted Dad.”
Thomas’s face tightened.
“Were you there?”
“Yes.”
“And Claire?”
“Yes.”
I felt my stomach drop.
Claire had been there.
Of course she had.
Daniel continued.
“They screamed for almost an hour.”
“What were they fighting about?”
“Everything. Michael. You. The forged letters. The money.”
“And then?”
“Dad collapsed.”
Thomas whispered, “Heart attack.”
“Yes.”
“Emily left?”
“Not immediately.”
Daniel looked at me.
“She wanted to take you and find Michael.”
I swallowed.
“Why didn’t she?”
Daniel’s eyes filled with tears.
“Because you weren’t there.”
The room went silent.
“What do you mean?”
“Claire had already taken you.”
My body went cold.
“She what?”
Daniel looked toward the door.
“Claire was supposed to take you somewhere safe until everyone calmed down.”
“Where?”
“Her apartment.”
“But?”
“She never came back.”
Thomas stepped forward.
“Claire kidnapped Sydney?”
Daniel shook his head.
“Not exactly.”
“Then what exactly?”
Daniel struggled to sit higher.
“Emily called her the next morning.”
“And?”
“Claire said she was taking Sydney away.”
“Why?”
“Because she thought Emily’s family would destroy all of you.”
I stared at him.
“So Claire just kept me?”
“She believed she was saving you.”
The words sounded sickeningly familiar.
Protecting you.
Saving you.
Every lie wrapped in the same excuse.
“What did Emily do?”
“She went looking for Michael.”
“Did she find him?”
“No.”
“Why?”
“Because Dad’s people had already convinced him to leave.”
I frowned.
“Leave where?”
“California.”
“And Emily?”
“She disappeared three days later.”
Thomas whispered, “We thought she ran away.”
“She did.”
“To where?”
Daniel closed his eyes.
“Nobody knew.”
“For eleven years?”
“Yes.”
I thought of the nurse.
“You said she’s alive.”
Daniel opened his eyes.
“I saw her.”
My heart slammed.
“When?”
“Three days ago.”
Thomas grabbed the bed rail.
“Where?”
“At my house.”
“What?”
“She just appeared.”
Daniel’s voice shook.
“I opened the door and there she was.”
I couldn’t breathe.
“My mother?”
“Yes.”
“What did she say?”
Daniel looked at me.
“She asked where you were.”
I covered my mouth.
Thomas stared at his brother.
“What did you tell her?”
“The truth.”
“That Claire had Sydney?”
“Yes.”
“And then?”
“She started crying.”
Daniel’s eyes filled.
“She thought you were gone too.”
“Gone?”
“She believed Claire had taken you overseas.”
“But I lived forty minutes away.”
“I know.”
“Did nobody look?”
“Everyone looked.”
That answer cut deeper.
Because sometimes the worst tragedies aren’t caused by nobody caring.
They’re caused by everyone looking in the wrong direction while one person controls the truth.
I asked, “Why did Emily come back now?”
Daniel looked frightened again.
“She found Michael.”
My heart stopped.
“Where?”
“Seattle.”
“Alive?”
“Yes.”
“Does he know about me?”
Daniel hesitated.
“He does now.”
My entire body went cold.
“Emily told him?”
“Yes.”
“What did he say?”
Daniel’s eyes softened.
“He didn’t believe her.”
I stared at him.
“Why?”
“Because he watched them bury a baby.”
The room went silent.
Thomas whispered, “What?”
Daniel swallowed.
“Dad arranged a funeral.”
My stomach turned.
“There was a coffin?”
“Yes.”
“What was inside?”
“I don’t know.”
Thomas looked sick.
“Dad actually staged a funeral?”
“Yes.”
I sat frozen.
Somewhere, eleven years ago, a man had stood over a coffin believing his daughter was inside.
Me.
A daughter who was alive.
A daughter growing up forty minutes from Daniel.
A daughter being told her father was dead.
The cruelty of it was almost impossible to understand.
“Where is Michael now?”
Daniel looked at me.
“He’s coming.”
“When?”
“He was supposed to arrive tomorrow.”
My heart jumped.
“Tomorrow?”
Daniel nodded.
“But after I was attacked, Emily stopped answering.”
Thomas stared at him.
“You think whoever attacked you has her?”
“I don’t know.”
Then Daniel looked at me.
“But someone knew I had found her.”
The anonymous text.
The photo of our house.
The stolen key.
The safe-deposit box.
I whispered, “Who?”
Daniel shook his head.
“I don’t know.”
Thomas looked frustrated.
“You must suspect someone.”
Daniel didn’t answer.
“Daniel.”
His eyes moved toward me.
Then he asked:
“Did Claire tell you about Rebecca?”
I frowned.
“Who?”
Thomas’s face changed.
“Rebecca Voss?”
Daniel nodded.
I looked between them.
“Who’s Rebecca?”
Thomas whispered:
“Michael’s sister.”
Daniel closed his eyes.
“She hated Emily.”
“Why?”
“Because she believed Emily destroyed Michael.”
Thomas said, “Rebecca blamed the Mercer family for everything.”
Daniel nodded.
“And she had access.”
“To what?”
“The old law office.”
I felt my stomach tighten.
“The safe-deposit records?”
“Yes.”
Thomas went pale.
“And she would’ve known about the key.”
“Yes.”
My phone buzzed.
Everyone froze.
I looked at the screen.
Unknown number.
A new message.
Daniel talks too much.
I dropped the phone onto the bed.
Thomas grabbed it.
Another message arrived.
Ask him what happened after Emily came to his house.
Daniel’s face went white.
Thomas looked at him.
“What happened?”
Daniel shook his head.
“Nothing.”
The phone buzzed again.
That’s a lie.
I stared at Daniel.
“You’re still hiding something.”
“Sydney—”
“No.”
I stood.
“I am done with adults deciding what I can handle.”
He closed his eyes.
“What happened after Emily came to your house?”
Daniel said nothing.
I stepped closer.
“What happened?”
Finally, he whispered:
“She gave me something.”
“What?”
“A flash drive.”
Thomas frowned.
“What’s on it?”
“Copies of everything.”
“The trust records?”
“Those too.”
“What else?”
Daniel looked at me.
“Proof.”
“Proof of what?”
“That your grandfather didn’t die naturally.”
Thomas froze.
My skin prickled.
“What?”
Daniel lowered his voice.
“Emily believes he was poisoned.”
Thomas stared at him.
“That is insane.”
“I thought so too.”
“By who?”
Daniel looked toward the door.
“She didn’t know.”
Then something occurred to me.
“Where’s the flash drive?”
Daniel didn’t answer.
“Daniel.”
“I hid it.”
“Where?”
He looked directly at me.
“In Claire’s house.”
My heart stopped.
“When?”
“The night before I was attacked.”
Thomas looked stunned.
“You went into the house?”
“Yes.”
I remembered Day 5.
The knock.
The drawer.
The sound downstairs.
“You were the one in the kitchen.”
Daniel looked at me.
“Yes.”
I stared at him.
“You came into the house while I was alone?”
“I thought you were staying with someone.”
“You didn’t check?”
His face collapsed.
“I didn’t know Claire had left you alone.”
“Where did you hide it?”
“In the same compartment where you found the photograph.”
Thomas shook his head.
“The compartment was empty except for the photo.”
Daniel went silent.
Then his face changed.
“Someone already took it.”
The anonymous messages suddenly made sense.
Whoever was texting us had the flash drive.
Or knew who did.
My phone buzzed again.
Thomas read the message out loud.
Very good. Now Sydney is finally asking the right questions.
Another message.
Come downstairs.
Nobody moved.
Then:
Alone.
Thomas looked toward the door.
“No.”
My phone buzzed again.
A photograph appeared.
Hospital lobby.
Taken seconds ago.
A woman sitting beside the vending machines.
Baseball cap.
Dark coat.
Her face partly turned away.
Underneath:
Your mother has been waiting eleven years.
I stared at the photograph.
Daniel started crying.
“Emily.”
I ran.
Thomas shouted my name.
I didn’t stop.
Down the hallway.
Toward the elevator.
Thomas and Denise followed.
The officer radioed downstairs.
When the elevator doors opened, I ran across the lobby.
The vending machines were there.
The chair was empty.
“Emily!”
People turned.
“EMILY!”
No answer.
Then I saw movement near the side exit.
A woman in a dark coat.
“Wait!”
She stopped.
Slowly.
Then turned.
I knew her face.
Not because I had ever seen her in person.
Because I had held the photograph in my hands.
The woman who had been holding me the day after I was born.
My biological mother.
Emily Mercer.
She stared at me.
Her entire face broke.
“Sydney?”
I couldn’t move.
Neither could she.
Then she covered her mouth and started crying.
I had imagined a thousand things I might do if I ever met someone connected to all these lies.
Yell.
Demand answers.
Run.
Instead, I just stood there.
She stepped toward me.
Then stopped herself.
Like Daniel had.
Like she knew she had no right to touch me.
“You’re alive.”
Those words destroyed me.
I started crying.
“So are you.”
She nodded.
“I tried.”
Her voice cracked.
“I swear to God, Sydney, I tried to find you.”
“Why didn’t you?”
“I thought Claire took you out of the country.”
“She didn’t.”
“I know that now.”
“Why now?”
Emily glanced behind me.
Thomas had arrived.
He stared at his sister.
For eleven years, he’d believed she was gone.
“Emily.”
She looked at him.
“Hi, Tommy.”
Thomas’s face collapsed.
He crossed the lobby and hugged her.
Hard.
She sobbed into his shoulder.
For a few seconds, I saw something that had nothing to do with lies.
A brother getting his sister back.
Then Emily pulled away.
“We don’t have much time.”
Thomas stiffened.
“Why?”
Emily looked at me.
“Because Michael is here.”
My heart stopped.
“Where?”
She looked toward the parking lot.
“Outside.”
I couldn’t breathe.
“My father?”
“Yes.”
“Why isn’t he inside?”
“He’s scared.”
“Of what?”
Emily’s eyes filled.
“Of you.”
I stared at her.
“That doesn’t make sense.”
“He buried you, Sydney.”
I swallowed.
“He spent eleven years believing his daughter died.”
She looked toward the glass doors.
“When I told him you were alive, he thought I was lying.”
“But he came.”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“Because I showed him a photograph.”
“What photograph?”
She looked at me.
“One of you.”
I felt strange.
“Where did you get it?”
“Daniel.”
“So Michael knows what I look like?”
Emily nodded.
“He’s been sitting in that parking lot for almost an hour trying to find the courage to walk through those doors.”
I stared toward the glass.
Cars.
Headlights.
People entering and leaving.
“Which one?”
Emily pointed.
A man stood beside a dark SUV.
Hands in his pockets.
Not moving.
He was tall.
Dark hair with gray at the sides.
Even from a distance, I could see he looked terrified.
I walked toward the doors.
Thomas said my name.
I kept going.
The automatic doors opened.
Cold night air hit my face.
The man looked up.
His entire body went still.
I walked across the pavement.
Twenty feet.
Fifteen.
Ten.
Then I stopped.
He stared at me.
Tears filled his eyes almost instantly.
“Sydney?”
I nodded.
His face collapsed.
He covered his mouth.
And this grown man—the father I’d never known, the man who had spent eleven years believing I was buried somewhere—started sobbing.
He didn’t run toward me.
He didn’t grab me.
He didn’t tell me he was my father as if that gave him ownership.
He just stood there.
Crying.
Finally, he whispered:
“I went to your grave every birthday.”
I couldn’t speak.
“I brought yellow flowers because Emily told me she thought you’d like yellow.”
My throat burned.
“I talked to you.”
His voice broke.
“I told you about every stupid thing in my life because I thought…”
He looked away.
“I thought maybe somehow you could hear me.”
I started crying harder.
Michael reached inside his coat.
Slowly.
He pulled out an old photograph.
A newborn baby.
Me.
“I only had this one.”
I stared at it.
On the back was written:
Sydney. Three days old.
Michael looked at me.
“I don’t expect you to call me Dad.”
I swallowed.
“I don’t expect anything.”
He wiped his face.
“I just needed to see you once.”
That hurt more than any demand could have.
Then his expression changed.
He looked past me.
Toward Emily.
“Where’s the drive?”
She froze.
Thomas heard.
“What drive?”
Emily whispered:
“I don’t have it.”
Michael’s face hardened.
“You said Daniel had it.”
“He did.”
“Had?”
“It’s gone.”
Michael looked around the parking lot.
Suddenly terrified.
“We need to leave.”
Thomas stepped closer.
“Why?”
Michael looked at him.
“Because Rebecca knows.”
Everything stopped.
“Your sister?”
Michael nodded.
“She has known for years.”
“Known what?”
Michael looked at me.
“That Sydney survived.”
I went cold.
Emily whispered, “Michael.”
He continued.
“Rebecca found out when Sydney was two.”
Thomas stared.
“And she didn’t tell you?”
“No.”
“Why?”
Michael laughed bitterly.
“Because she hated Emily more than she loved me.”
A car engine started somewhere behind us.
Michael turned.
A black sedan began moving slowly from the far end of the lot.
His face changed.
“Inside.”
“What?”
“GET INSIDE!”
The sedan accelerated.
Thomas grabbed me.
We ran.
The car cut across the lane toward us.
People screamed.
The police officer drew his weapon.
The sedan swerved.
Tires shrieked.
Then it shot toward the exit.
The officer radioed the plate.
Emily was shaking.
Michael held her.
I stared after the car.
“Was that Rebecca?”
Michael nodded.
“I think so.”
My phone buzzed again.
Unknown number.
One final message.
You should have stayed dead.
Thomas read it.
His face hardened.
And for the first time that night, I wasn’t scared.
I was angry.
Not childish anger.
Not screaming.
Something colder.
Because eleven years of adults had made decisions around me.
For me.
Against me.
My grandfather had erased me.
Claire had hidden me.
Emily had lost me.
Michael had mourned me.
Daniel had protected secrets.
Rebecca had watched.
And everybody seemed to believe I was still just the child at the center of their story.
I wasn’t.
I looked at Denise.
“I want to tell the police everything.”
She nodded.
“Good.”
“Everything.”
“Yes.”
I looked at Thomas.
“The texts.”
He handed me the phone.
“Everything.”
I looked at Michael.
“The fake funeral.”
He nodded.
Then Emily.
“The safe-deposit box.”
She swallowed.
“Yes.”
Then I looked through the hospital doors.
Somewhere upstairs, Daniel was waiting.
Somewhere behind us, Claire was probably wondering whether I would ever come home.
And somewhere out in the city, Rebecca Voss believed she had scared me into silence.
She had made the same mistake my mother had made.
She thought being eleven meant being powerless.
I looked down at the crumpled thirty-day paper still folded inside my pocket.
The paper Claire had thrown toward the trash.
The paper that had started all of this.
I pulled it out.
Smoothed it carefully.
Michael looked at it.
“What is that?”
I stared at the line at the bottom.
If you believe leaving me alone for thirty days with $20 was safe and responsible, sign your name below.
Then I looked toward the hospital.
“A record.”
“Of what?”
I folded it again.
“Of the last time anyone gets to tell me something didn’t happen just because it’s inconvenient for them.”
Police lights flashed across the parking lot.
For the first time in thirty days, I didn’t feel alone.
But I also knew the story wasn’t over.
Because Rebecca still had the one thing everyone had been lying, stealing, and almost dying to protect.
The flash drive.
And somewhere inside it was the truth about my grandfather’s death.
The truth about the stolen millions.
And maybe something even worse.
Something Michael revealed before we walked back inside.
He caught my arm gently.
“Sydney.”
I turned.
“There is one more thing you need to know.”
My stomach dropped.
“What?”
He glanced at Emily.
She looked away.
Michael’s voice became quiet.
“Your grandfather wasn’t the person who ordered your fake funeral.”
I stared at him.
“What?”
“He paid for it.”
My skin prickled.
“But someone else planned it.”
“Who?”
Michael looked through the glass doors.
Up toward the fourth floor.
Toward Daniel’s room.
And then he said:
“Daniel.”
END OF PART 5
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