CHAPTER TWO: THE LEDGER
1194 Words
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Vance Penthouse | Dallas | 1:17 AM, Night of The Engagement Party
The house is silent.
Mom and Dad went to bed at midnight. Marcus went to bed at 12:30, after kissing my forehead and telling me to “get some rest, my love.” Lila left at 1:00, hugging me tight and whispering sweet dreams, Elena.
Sweet dreams. Right.
I wait until 1:17. That’s when the penthouse goes truly quiet. No footsteps. No AC humming. No heartbeat but mine.
I slip out of bed in black silk pajamas and bare feet. No heels. No noise. In my past life, I was loud. I was obvious. I was easy to kill.
Not this time.
I move through the dark hallway toward Marcus’s office. The door is always locked. In the past life, I never questioned it. Privacy, my love. Business stuff.
Business stuff that ended with me on a marble floor at 2:13 AM.
I don’t have the key. But I remember where he hides the spare.
Third drawer. Behind the false panel. Under the stack of blue folders labeled Charity Foundation Q3.
I open it. The key is cold in my palm.
The lock clicks.
The office smells like leather and money and Marcus. It’s the same as I remember. Dark wood desk. Floor-to-ceiling windows. The city lights of Dallas stretching out like a blanket of lies.
I don’t turn on the overhead light. I use the desk lamp. Low. Narrow. Just enough to see.
First: the safe.
In my past life, I found it two weeks before I died. Behind the painting of the Dallas skyline. Marcus’s father’s oil painting. Sentimental value he said.
I move the painting aside. The safe is there. Combination lock.
I don’t guess. I remember.
2-14-9. His birthday. The day we met. The day he started planning my death.
The safe clicks open.
Inside: passports. Cash. A flash drive. And a manila envelope labeled Vance Life Insurance Policy.
My hands don’t shake as I open it. They don’t shake because they already shook six years from now, on cold marble.
Policyholder: Elena Vance
Beneficiary: Marcus Thorne
Coverage: $40,000,000
Effective Date: Three months from today.
Cause of Death Clause: Accidental. Robbery. Home Invasion.
Three months from today. The wedding date.
I close my eyes for three seconds. Just three. To breathe. To not scream. To not throw the envelope across the room and run.
Instead, I pull out my phone. I take photos. Every page. Every clause. Every signature. Marcus’s and mine. The signature that isn’t mine. The forgery is sloppy if you know what to look for. The slant of the E. The pressure on the V.
I don’t have the real one anymore. I burned it in my past life. But my memory is perfect now.
I put everything back exactly as I found it. The safe. The painting. The drawer. The key.
Second: the computer.
Marcus’s laptop is password protected. In the past life, it was Elena2024. Our anniversary. Cheesy. Predictable.
I type it in.
It works.
The desktop is clean. No icons. No clutter. Just one folder: Vance Foundation.
Inside: spreadsheets. Bank transfers. Offshore accounts. Cayman Islands. Switzerland. Monaco.
Forty million.
Not from insurance. From embezzlement.
Marcus has been funneling money from Elena’s family foundation for two years. Lila’s been helping. The “charity events” were money laundering. The “orphanage donations” were shell companies.
I take photos of everything. Every transaction. Every timestamp. Every signature that matches Lila’s handwriting.
This is it. This is the proof. This is the bullet I’ll use to end him.
I’m about to close the laptop when a new email notification pops up.
From: Adrian Blackwood
Subject: Foundation Audit - Initial Findings
Date: Today, 11:42 PM
My breath catches.
Adrian. The man who died for me in my past life. The man I just met on the balcony tonight.
I click it.
Mr. Thorne,
Initial review of the Vance Foundation accounts shows discrepancies in Q2 and Q3 transfers. I recommend we meet tomorrow to discuss before filing the official report.
A. Blackwood
Marcus hasn’t replied yet.
Adrian doesn’t know yet. Adrian doesn’t know Marcus is planning to kill me. Adrian doesn’t know Lila is in on it.
But he will. If he keeps digging, he will. And in my past life, that got him killed.
I close the laptop. I lock the safe. I put the painting back. I leave the office exactly as I found it.
I’m halfway down the hallway when I hear it.
Footsteps.
Soft. Quiet. Deliberate.
Not Mom’s. Not Dad’s. Not Marcus’s.
I freeze. I step into the shadows.
Adrian appears at the end of the hallway.
He’s in a black T-shirt and sweatpants now. No suit. No professional mask. He’s holding a tablet. He’s coming from the guest room where Marcus put him up for the night.
He stops when he sees me.
Neither of us speaks for a long time.
“You shouldn’t be here,” he says finally. Quiet. Not accusing. Just factual.
“Neither should you,” I reply. My voice is steady. “Security cameras are off in this hallway after midnight. Marcus turns them off for ‘privacy.’”
Adrian’s eyes narrow. “You know that?”
“I pay attention.”
He looks at me. Really looks. Like he’s trying to piece me together. Like I’m a puzzle with missing pieces.
“What were you doing in Marcus’s office, Elena?” he asks.
I could lie. I could say I was looking for a pen. I could say I was sleepwalking.
But I don’t. Because in my past life, I lied to everyone. And it got me killed.
“This time,” I say, “I’m looking for the truth.”
Adrian studies me. Then he nods once. Like he understands more than I said.
“Be careful,” he says. “Marcus is dangerous.”
“So are you,” I say. “You’re digging where you don’t belong.”
He doesn’t deny it. He just says, “Someone has to.”
I step past him. I’m three feet away when he speaks again.
“Elena.”
I stop. I don’t turn around.
“If you need help,” he says, “come to me. Not him.”
I don’t answer. I don’t trust him yet. Not fully. Not after what happened last time.
But I don’t run either.
I go back to my room. I lock the door. I sit on the edge of the bed and look at the photos on my phone.
The insurance policy. The offshore transfers. Lila’s signature.
Proof.
I have proof now.
But proof doesn’t keep you alive. Timing does.
And timing means I have to wait. I have to play the bride. I have to smile at Marcus. I have to hug Lila.
I have to let them think they’ve already won.
My phone buzzes. A new text. Unknown number.
You shouldn’t have gone in there, Elena. He knows you’re different now.
I delete the text.
But I don’t delete the number.
Because if someone else knows I’m back… I’m not alone anymore.
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- Writer
