Chapter 3 - My Own Death Certificate
For several seconds, I could not hear the party outside.
I stared at the document.
OLIVIA GRACE BENNETT.
Date of death: three weeks earlier.
Cause: motor vehicle accident.
County seal.
Registrar signature.
All fake.
All good enough to fool someone who did not look closely.
Mason swore under his breath.
Agent Hsu folded his hands on the table.
“The death certificate was submitted with a beneficiary reassignment request.”
“To whom?” I asked, though I already knew.
He slid another page toward me.
SIENNA MARIE BENNETT.
My pulse hammered.
For years, I had defended Sienna to myself with the same tired excuses. She was impulsive. She was insecure. She was always searching for the next shortcut because she hated feeling behind.
But this was not impulsive.
This required planning.
“Could she have done this alone?” Mason asked.
“No,” Hsu said. “At minimum, someone had access to personal records, financial information, and a notary credential.”
“My mother?”
“Possibly.”
I stood.
Mason caught my wrist gently.
“Liv.”
“I need to look at her face.”
Hsu rose. “Do not confront them about the documents.”
“She just slapped me twice in front of half the command.”
“That actually helps us,” he said. “It gives local law enforcement a clean reason to separate everyone without revealing the financial investigation.”
I hated that he was right.
We returned to the ballroom.
Mom was surrounded by three relatives and talking fast. Sienna stood beside her, texting with both thumbs.
The moment Sienna saw me, she shoved the phone into her purse.
Too late.
“What did he want?” Mom demanded.
“Work.”
Her eyes narrowed. “At your engagement party?”
“My work doesn’t care about parties.”
She stepped closer.
“You should have told me.”
“Told you what?”
“That you’re an officer.”
“Why?”
“Because I’m your mother.”
“That’s not a security clearance.”
Several officers looked away to hide smiles.
Mom heard them.
Humiliation flashed across her face.
Sienna cut in. “So what does that make Mason?”
Mason answered before I could.
“Her fiancé.”
“No. I mean in the Army.”
“That’s enough,” I said.
My mother’s eyes moved over his dress uniform details, the way senior officers reacted to him, the way security staff waited for his smallest signal.
Her mouth tightened.
“Oh,” she whispered.
She finally understood she had misjudged him.
Not completely.
But enough to frighten her.
Then two city police officers entered the ballroom.
The room stirred.
My mother stared at me.
“You called the police on me?”
“I didn’t.”
Mason said, “Someone else did.”
One of the officers approached me.
“Ma’am, we were told there was an assault.”
Mom threw her hands up. “This is ridiculous. She’s my daughter.”
The officer looked at my cheek.
“And did you strike her?”
“She provoked me.”
Sienna whispered, “Mom, stop talking.”
The officer heard her.
So did I.
Mom looked at Sienna sharply.
That same strange fear passed between them.
The officers separated us.
While one took my statement, I watched Sienna edge toward the ballroom doors.
Agent Hsu noticed too.
He moved casually to block the exit.
Sienna stopped.
Then her phone rang.
She looked down.
For one heartbeat, I saw the caller name before she turned the screen away.
May you like
WESLEY KANE.
My father’s former estate attorney.
