“Wyatt,” I whispered.
He looked at me, then forced himself to sit.
Detective Beckett continued.
“We also found a recent life insurance policy.”
My stomach clenched.
“On whom?”
“You.”
“For how much?”
“Two million dollars.”
“Who was the beneficiary?”
“Melrose Residential Partners.”
The room went silent.
I could hear the heart monitor beside me.
Steady.
Mechanical.
Proof that I was still alive.
“I never purchased a policy.”
“The application appears to contain a forged medical examination and forged signatures.”
Lena Morris opened another document.
“There is also evidence your parents took out loans using property that should have belonged to your trust.”
“How much?”
“Nearly four million dollars.”
Wyatt looked sick.
I stared at the bandages covering my hands where the nurses had cleaned dried blood from beneath my nails.
My parents had stolen my inheritance.
My sister had built a company from it.
And when the truth was about to surface, they had decided to erase me.
