Chapter 4 - The Memorial of Lies
The lobby of Aegis Holdings was a monument to modern corporate excess—all polished black marble, towering glass walls, and minimalist ice sculptures.
The air was filled with the quiet murmur of wealthy mourners dressed in expensive black silk and wool, sipping champagne while a string quartet played a somber, classical melody in the corner. Large, framed photographs of David—smiling, handsome, and utterly false—were displayed on gilded easels throughout the room.
I stood in the shadow of a large marble pillar near the entrance, my heart hammering a frantic rhythm against my ribs.
I was dressed in a high-necked, flowing black maternity gown that completely concealed my swollen belly and the advanced digital recording equipment Marcus had fastened to my torso. My hair was styled in a classic chignon, and a wide-brimmed black hat with a lace veil partially obscured my face.
Evelyn stood beside me, looking elegant and formidable in a tailored charcoal suit. She carried herself with the effortless authority of a legendary attorney, which allowed us to bypass the security check at the door without question.
"There she is," Evelyn whispered, her eyes tracking a figure across the room.
Vanessa Chen was standing near the largest portrait of David. She wore a stunning, custom-designed black velvet dress that clung to her lean frame. A delicate white bandage was visible just beneath her hairline, a souvenir of the brass lamp. She was playing the role of the tragic, grieving widow to perfection, dabbing at her eyes with a lace handkerchief as a group of wealthy investors offered their condolences.
"She looks comfortable," I murmured, my jaw clenching. "She’s wearing my mother's diamond tennis bracelet."
"Let her enjoy her moment," Evelyn said, her voice low and steady. "Marcus is in the building’s server room now. Once he bypasses the internal security network, we move."
My phone—a secure, encrypted device Marcus had provided—vibrated twice in my evening bag.
“Network compromised. Elevators and private office suite doors are unlocked. You have twelve minutes before the backup security protocol initiates.”
"It's time," I said, looking at Evelyn.
We walked calmly toward the private executive elevators at the back of the lobby. A security guard posted at the door stepped forward, but Evelyn simply gave him a sharp, warning look.
"Mrs. Mitchell needs a moment of quiet reflection away from the crowd," Evelyn said, her voice dripping with aristocratic authority. "Do not disturb us."
The guard, intimidated by her tone and assuming I was the grieving widow’s close relative, stepped aside and swiped his access card for the elevator.
The doors slid shut, and the elevator began its smooth, silent ascent to the penthouse suite.
The executive office of Aegis Holdings was cold and dark, illuminated only by the city lights filtering through the floor-to-ceiling windows.
Marcus’s voice crackled through a tiny earpiece in my ear. "Sarah, the vault is located behind the mahogany bookshelf on the north wall. The security keypad is disabled, but you’ll need to manually release the mechanical latch on the bottom shelf."
I hurried across the room, my hands searching the smooth wood of the bookshelf. I found the hidden lever near the base and pulled it. With a soft click, the entire bookshelf swung outward, revealing a heavy steel wall safe.
"It's open," I whispered.
I swung the safe door open. Inside were neat stacks of cash, offshore corporate ledgers, and a thick, leather-bound folder embossed with the Mitchell family crest.
I opened the folder. Inside were my original birth certificate, my real Social Security card, the physical deeds to our home, and the original, unaltered marriage certificate showing my name and signature. Next to them lay the forged documents Vanessa had used to migrate my life into her database.
"I have them," I said, tears of relief stinging my eyes as I clutched the physical proof of my existence to my chest. "I have my life back."
"Not yet, Sarah," a cold, familiar voice said from the doorway.
May you like
I spun around.
Vanessa Chen stood in the entrance of the dark office, the light from the hallway silhouetting her slender frame. In her right hand, she held a sleek, black semi-automatic pistol, pointed directly at my chest.
