Semua Bab I Buried My Fiancé, Married His Brother: Bab 41 - Bab 50

Sebastian "What do you mean she withdrew," I said, already moving toward the door, Sophie meeting me halfway down the hallway with her phone still pressed to her ear. "No explanation, sir. Her assistant sent a one line email an hour ago. Personal reasons, effective immediately, best of luck with your proceedings." Sophie lowered the phone, her expression grim. "I've tried calling directly. Straight to voicemail every time." "That's not a coincidence." "No, sir, I don't believe it is either." Christabel appeared beside me, already pulling up something on her own phone, her expression sharp with the same suspicion running through me. "Someone got to her. The same way someone got to Colette. Money, or fear, or both." "We have twelve hours until the hearing." I rubbed my temples, the exhaustion of the last week compounding into something that felt almost physical, a weight pressing down on my chest. "Sophie, I need a new candidate. Someone with the right credentials, someone complet

Sebastian "Empty for six months," I repeated, staring at the message like rereading it might change what it said. "That's not possible. Fournier read a sworn statement from her this morning." "A sworn statement doesn't require the person to actually live anywhere real, sir," Sophie said through the phone, her voice tight with the same disbelief I felt. "It requires a notarized signature and a witness. I've already requested the notarization records. If this checks out the way I think it will, we may be looking at a fabricated identity entirely." "Fabricated how? The property records show her name on a deed." "A deed is just paperwork, sir. If someone had access to enough resources, and enough patience, they could construct an entire paper identity, a lease, a purchased property, employment history, all of it, without a single real person ever actually living any part of that life." Christabel leaned forward, her face pale. "So Margaux Rousseau might not be a real person at all. J

Sebastian We were at the office within twenty minutes, Sophie waiting for us in the conference room with a specialist I didn't recognize, an older man with reading glasses pushed up into gray hair, three screens arranged in front of him showing the same grainy photograph blown up in increasing detail. "Mr. Vettel, Mrs. Vettel." The specialist nodded at both of us ,his expression carefully neutral in the way of someone used to delivering difficult news. "I've spent the last two hours running comparative analysis on the wrist mark visible in this photograph against the medical file Ms. Laurent provided." "And," I said, unable to keep the tension out of my voice. "The mark is consistent with the tattoo documented in that file. Same design, same approximate placement, same aging pattern given the photograph's timestamp relative to when the original medical record was created." He turned one of the screens toward us, the enhanced image now sharp enough to make out an unmistakable patte

Sebastian I don't remember deciding to move. One moment I was staring at that photograph of Jane through her own bedroom window, and the next I had Gabriel by the collar, slammed back against the wall hard enough to rattle the loose floorboard still hanging open beside us. "Who sent this." "I don't know." Gabriel's voice had gone thin, genuinely afraid now, all his earlier composure stripped away. "I told you, everything comes through drops, messages left in places, I've never seen a face." "That's my daughter, Gabriel. Someone photographed my daughter through her window and left a threat with your things, and you're telling me you don't know who." "I'm telling you the truth." His hands came up, not fighting, just steadying himself against the wall. "Sebastian, please. I know I don't deserve your trust. I know everything I've done makes me the last person you should believe right now. But I would never let anyone hurt Jane. Whatever else is true about me, that isn't." Christabel

Sebastian Christabel called me the moment she left Evelyn's apartment, her voice shaking so badly I almost couldn't understand the words at first. "Sebastian, she was real. A real woman sat in Marcus's office. He has her signature." "That's not possible. Sophie confirmed the identity was fabricated, the notarization, the property records, all of it." "I know what Sophie confirmed. I'm telling you what Marcus just told me." Christabel's voice cracked slightly, exhaustion and fear tangling together. "Someone real used that name. Someone with a face he can describe." I had Marcus Delacroix in my office within the hour, a nervous, precise man who kept adjusting his glasses like the gesture might help him make sense of what he was being asked to remember. "Describe her," I said, no patience left for gentle questioning after the day we'd had. "Mid thirties, dark hair, well dressed, very composed. She had all the right paperwork, or paperwork that looked right to me at the time. I had