I remembered Maya’s final voicemail, her voice shaking.
Lena, he knows I found the account. If something happens, don’t let him touch the insurance money.
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Funeral & Bereavement
For weeks, I had slept in two-hour fragments, following the crumbs Daniel thought had turned to dust. Deleted messages recovered from Maya’s tablet. Pharmacy receipts for medication she had never been prescribed. A burner phone pinging close to their house on the night she died. A life insurance policy changed six days before the “accident.” Celeste’s name concealed inside a shell company receiving transfers from Daniel’s business.
And blood.
Not a lot. Not something cinematic. Just a fine trace on the corner of the marble stair, badly cleaned with bleach, still trapped in the seam where stone met wood. Maya’s blood, according to preliminary lab results. Not from the fall pattern Daniel claimed.
He had assumed grief would make me foolish.
Instead, grief made me exact.
Celeste stepped forward, her perfume cutting through the lilies. “Daniel loved your sister. You’re just jealous because Maya had a life.”
My father moved as though he meant to speak, but I lifted one hand. Not yet.
Daniel noticed the gesture and smirked again. “You always did like control, Lena.”
“Yes,” I said. “That’s why I got warrants.”
Pierce’s smile disappeared.
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