Chapter 11 - REBECCA

The facility was called Willow Ridge.

Expensive.

Private.

Discreet.

Rebecca had been admitted under another name.

Rachel Bennett.

Daniel listed himself as her husband.

Harold had signed legal paperwork supporting involuntary treatment.

For seven years, they had convinced doctors Rebecca was unstable.

She had tried to escape twice.

Each time, Daniel claimed she was delusional.

Samantha cried when she saw her sister.

Rebecca barely spoke.

Her hands shook.

But when she saw Daniel’s wedding photo on my phone, her eyes sharpened.

“He married you?”

“He tried.”

She laughed weakly.

“He always liked brunettes.”

I sat beside her.

“Rebecca, I need to know what happened.”

She stared out the window.

“I found Evelyn’s letters.”

“Harold’s stepdaughter?”

She nodded.

“I confronted Daniel.”

“What did he do?”

“He told me Evelyn was crazy.”

“And Margaret?”

“She told me dead women can’t argue.”

A chill ran through me.

Rebecca said Daniel drugged her.

Harold created psychiatric evaluations.

Margaret told Samantha that Rebecca had run away.

Then they moved her between facilities.

“Why keep you alive?” I asked.

Rebecca smiled sadly.

“Because I signed something before I understood what it was.”

“What?”

“A trust arrangement.”

Harold still needed Rebecca alive for certain payments to continue.

She wasn’t a person to them.

She was paperwork that breathed.

I felt sick.

Rebecca reached for my hand.

“Did they get yours?”

“No.”

“Then they’ll keep coming.”

“Daniel is running.”

“He won’t run far.”

“How do you know?”

Rebecca looked toward Marcus.

“Because Margaret keeps emergency money in a house in Rhode Island.”

Police moved immediately.

The house was empty.

But they found passports.

Cash.

Burner phones.

And a handwritten list of women.

Seven names.

Mine was number seven.

Evelyn was number one.

Andrea.

Melissa.

Rebecca.

Two others.

Every woman connected to property, inheritance, businesses, or trusts.

“This wasn’t romance,” Naomi said.

“It was an industry.”

Then police found another name written beneath mine.

Number eight.

Sophie Harrison.

I stopped breathing.

“My cousin?”

Sophie was twenty-six.

Engaged.

Her mother controlled another branch of our family holdings.

I called her.

No answer.

Again.

Nothing.

Then her fiancé answered.

A man I had met only twice.

Polite.

Charming.

Daniel’s childhood friend.

“Claire?”

“Where’s Sophie?”

A pause.

“She’s sleeping.”

“What’s your full name?”

Another pause.

“Why?”

“Tell me your full legal name.”

He hung up.

Rebecca whispered behind me,

“Oh God.”

“What?”

May you like

THE MAID’S DAUGHTER

“GET OUT OF MY HOUSE,” HIS FIANCÉE TOLD THE MAID—THEN THE MAFIA BOSS LOOKED AT HER LITTLE GIRL“Get out of my house. And take that...

**MY HUSBAND CALLED ME A “BARREN LEECH”—HE DIDN’T KNOW MY MONEY WAS KEEP...

My husband threw his wedding ring at my feet and told security to remove the “barren leech” from the ballroom.He had no idea he wa...

MY DAUGHTER’S NOTE STOPPED MY WEDDING—AND EXPOSED MY BRIDE

MY DAUGHTER SLIPPED ME A NOTE BEFORE “I DO”—AND EXPOSED MY BRIDE’S PLANPART 1 — TEN MINUTES BEFORE THE VOWS“Daddy, if you marry he...

She recognized his photograph.

“That man used to work for Harold.”