Chapter 8: The Woman Who Had Been Living Under My Name
Patricia insisted we go to Atlanta the following morning.
She wanted to retrieve the backup recording from Cynthia Miller before anyone else could reach it.
My father refused to let me stay behind.
Neither did I want to.
If someone had spent twenty-five years changing records and stealing identities, I wanted to know why.
We arrived at Cynthia's office shortly after nine.
The building was an old brick structure on a quiet commercial street. A small brass sign beside the entrance read:
*MILLER NOTARY AND DOCUMENT SERVICES.*
Patricia knocked.
No answer.
She knocked again.
A woman opened the door.
Cynthia Miller looked exhausted. Her eyes were swollen, and a bandage covered one of her wrists.
"Ms. Wells?""
Patricia nodded.
"Is the memory card safe?""
Cynthia glanced at my father.
Then at me.
"Come inside.""
Her office was a mess.
Filing cabinets stood open, papers covered the floor, and a computer monitor lay shattered on the desk.
Someone had searched the room thoroughly.
Cynthia locked the door behind us.
"I've never been involved in anything like this before," she said.
Michael looked around.
"Who did this?""
"I don't know. But they were looking for the recording.""
Patricia crossed her arms.
"Where is the backup?""
Cynthia walked toward a framed photograph hanging behind her desk.
She removed it.
A small memory card had been taped to the back.
"Here.""
Patricia took it carefully.
"Thank you.""
Cynthia looked at me.
"Emily, I need to apologize.""
"For what?""
"I verified documents I should never have accepted. I believed I was helping a family complete routine legal paperwork.""
"Did you know someone was pretending to be me?""
She nodded.
"The woman who came to my office looked exactly like you. Same hair, same height, even a similar voice.""
My father frowned.
"How could she imitate Emily?""
"She had photographs, copies of Emily's identification, and a recording of her voice.""
My stomach tightened.
"Where would someone get a recording of my voice?""
Cynthia looked uncomfortable.
"She played me several voice messages.""
I remembered Vanessa.
She had once borrowed my phone to send a voice message to a delivery company because she claimed her own phone wasn't working.
She'd also recorded videos during family gatherings.
She could have collected hours of my voice without me noticing.
Patricia inserted the memory card into her laptop.
A video appeared.
The timestamp showed September 14.
The same day the false authorization documents had been notarized.
The footage began with Cynthia sitting at her desk.
A woman entered.
She wore a dark coat, sunglasses, and a burgundy scarf.
She placed a driver's license on the desk.
Cynthia checked it.
Then the woman removed her sunglasses.
I gasped.
It was my face.
Not someone who merely resembled me.
It was me.
The same burgundy braids.
The same small scar near my left eyebrow.
The same distinctive smile.
Except I had never been in that office.
The woman signed my name.
Then she looked directly into the camera.
And smiled.
My father stood up.
"Turn it off.""
Patricia paused the video.
"Michael?""
He was staring at the screen.
"That isn't Emily.""
"I know.""
"No. You don't understand.""
He pointed toward the woman's face.
"That's Rachel.""
I stared at him.
"What?""
He stepped closer to the laptop.
"Look at the eyes. The way she holds her head. The smile.""
I shook my head.
"Dad, that's impossible.""
Michael lowered himself into a chair.
"Rachel had an identical twin sister.""
The room went silent.
I turned toward him.
"Mom had a twin?""
He nodded.
"Her name was Rebecca. They were separated when they were young. Rachel rarely spoke about her.""
Patricia looked at the footage again.
"Do you know where she is?""
Michael shook his head.
"I thought she was living in Europe. Rachel told me they hadn't spoken in years.""
Cynthia leaned forward.
"There's more.""
She pressed play.
The woman finished signing the documents.
Then someone entered the room.
Daniel Brooks.
He handed her another folder.
She opened it.
I watched her expression change.
Then she said something.
The audio was faint, but we could hear every word.
"Once the guardianship is approved, Emily Carter won't have access to anything.""
Daniel nodded.
"And Vanessa gets control?""
"Temporarily.""
"What about the original beneficiary?""
The woman smiled.
"She won't be a problem.""
Daniel leaned closer.
"Are you sure?""
The woman looked directly at him.
"I've been living under her name for years. Nobody has noticed.""
My blood ran cold.
I looked at Patricia.
"What does that mean?""
She replayed the sentence.
I've been living under her name for years.
My father stood.
"Who is this woman?""
Cynthia shook her head.
"I don't know.""
Then the video continued.
Daniel placed another document on the desk.
The woman signed it.
This time, the name wasn't mine.
It was Rebecca Carter.
My father's expression collapsed.
"Rebecca.""
He whispered the name as though saying it aloud might bring someone back from the dead.
Patricia froze the video.
"Michael, do you recognize this signature?""
He nodded.
"That's Rachel's sister.""
"Then why would she be impersonating Emily?""
He didn't answer.
Instead, he looked at me.
"Because she might be the person who has been using your identity.""
I stared at the screen.
"Why?""
Patricia removed the memory card.
"That's what we're going to find out.""
Cynthia suddenly spoke.
"There's something else. Before the woman left, she gave me an envelope.""
"What envelope?"" Patricia asked.
Cynthia opened a drawer and removed a sealed white envelope.
"I was supposed to destroy it. But after seeing what happened, I kept it.""
Patricia took it.
Inside was a photograph.
It showed Rebecca standing beside Vanessa outside a hospital.
The date was printed across the bottom.
Three months ago.
My father looked at the photograph.
Then he turned it over.
A handwritten message appeared.
The daughter has to disappear before the mother returns.
I felt my throat tighten.
"Which mother?""
Nobody answered.
Patricia examined the photograph more closely.
Then she noticed something in the background.
A hospital sign.
The same hospital where I had supposedly been born.
She zoomed in.
The photograph had been taken outside the maternity wing.
Michael grabbed the laptop.
"Why were they there?""
Patricia looked at the date.
"Three months ago. That's when the false guardianship petition was filed.""
I suddenly remembered the anonymous messages.
The person who had been warning me knew about the storage room, the documents, and my mother's quilt.
Maybe it was Rebecca.
Maybe it was someone working with her.
But why would someone impersonating me warn me?
My phone rang.
Unknown number.
I answered.
"Hello?""
A woman's voice whispered:
"Emily, you need to stop investigating.""
I recognized the voice.
It was the woman from the video.
Rebecca.
My father's missing sister-in-law.
"Who are you?""
"Someone who has been protecting you.""
"By pretending to be me?""
She sighed.
"You don't understand.""
"Then explain!""
There was a long pause.
Then she said:
"Your mother isn't dead.""
I stopped breathing.
My father grabbed the phone.
"Who is this?""
Rebecca's voice trembled.
"Michael, listen to me. Rachel is alive.""
My father closed his eyes.
"That's impossible.""
"I know what you were told.""
"Rachel died six years ago. I buried her.""
Rebecca whispered:
"You buried the wrong woman.""
The call ended.
I stared at my father.
He looked at me.
Neither of us spoke.
May you like
Then Patricia slowly closed the laptop.
"Michael," she said, "we need to find out whose body was buried in Rachel Carter's grave.""
