Chapter 7: The Message From the Dead
I stared at the phone screen until the letters blurred.
*Angela Brooks.*
My mother’s name.
The same name that had appeared on fake documents.
The same name that had been used to erase her existence.
But now it was sending me messages.
My mother looked over my shoulder.
Her face went pale.
“That’s not my number.””
I looked at her.
“What?””
She shook her head slowly.
“I haven’t used that number in years.””
Detective Harper took the phone carefully.
“Don’t respond yet.””
My fingers felt numb.
“But it says she’s sorry.””
The detective studied the screen.
“Someone wants you to believe they’re Angela.””
Aunt Denise stepped closer.
“Could Vanessa have another accomplice?””
Detective Harper shook her head.
“Possibly. But the number belongs to someone else.””
My father stood.
“Who?””
The detective looked at him.
“Your late brother.””
The room froze.
My father’s face changed.
“What?””
I looked between them.
“You have a brother?””
My father didn’t answer.
That scared me more than anything.
Because there were still secrets.
After everything that had happened, there were still hidden rooms in my own family.
“Dad,” I said quietly.
He looked away.
“My brother’s name was Daniel.””
My mother frowned.
“I never heard about him.””
“That’s because he disappeared years ago.””
A cold feeling moved through me.
“Disappeared?””
Dad nodded.
“He was involved in some bad things.””
Detective Harper looked at him.
“Financial crimes. Fraud. Identity theft.””
My eyes returned to the phone.
“So someone stole his number?””
“Maybe,” the detective replied.
“But why use Mom’s name?””
Nobody had an answer.
Then my phone buzzed again.
Everyone jumped.
Another message.
This time there was a photo attached.
I opened it.
The picture showed a woman sitting in a hospital bed.
My mother gasped.
“That’s me.””
The image was old.
Grainy.
But it was clearly her.
She was unconscious.
And standing beside her bed was a man.
A man holding a folder.
A man I had never seen before.
My father recognized him immediately.
“Oh no.””
I looked at him.
“Who is that?””
Dad’s lips parted.
“That’s Daniel.””
My stomach dropped.
“Your brother?””
He nodded.
“He was the one who helped me after Angela’s accident.””
My mother stepped back.
“Helped you?””
Dad looked devastated.
“I thought he was helping.””
Detective Harper zoomed in on the photo.
“The folder.””
Everyone leaned closer.
There was a label on it.
*BROOKS FAMILY RECORDS.*
My hands shook.
“He had my records?””
Dad nodded slowly.
“Daniel worked with documents. Legal files. Insurance.””
Aunt Denise whispered:
“That’s how the death certificate was created.””
The room became silent again.
A missing uncle.
A fake death certificate.
A stolen identity.
A mother declared dead while she was alive.
The pieces were coming together.
But one question remained.
“Where is he now?””
My father looked down.
“I don’t know.””
Detective Harper looked at him sharply.
“When did you last see him?””
Dad hesitated.
Too long.
I noticed.
“You know.””
He shook his head.
“Maya…”
“No.””
My voice cracked.
“I’m tired of everyone protecting me from the truth.””
He closed his eyes.
“The last time I saw Daniel was three days after Angela’s accident.””
My mother whispered:
“Three days?””
Dad nodded.
“He told me he could make everything disappear.””
The words chilled me.
“What does that mean?””
My father looked at the floor.
“He said if Angela never came back, my life would be easier.””
Nobody spoke.
Detective Harper picked up her phone.
“We need to find Daniel.””
She looked at the image again.
“But there’s something strange.””
“What?””
She pointed at the hospital photo.
“The timestamp.””
I leaned closer.
The date appeared in the corner.
October 20, 2020.
A week after my mother’s accident.
My mother looked confused.
“That’s impossible.””
“Why?””
“Because I was told Daniel died before that.””
My father looked up.
“What?””
She turned toward him.
“Richard, your brother died in a car accident six years ago.””
Everyone stared.
Detective Harper slowly lowered the phone.
“Then we have a problem.””
My heart started racing.
“What problem?””
She looked at the photo.
“The man standing beside your mother…”
May you like
She paused.
“…was officially dead when this picture was taken.””
