Chapter 3 - THE WOMAN IN UNIT 304
I didn’t sleep.
At 7:00 the next morning, I drove to Hartwell Residences.
Melissa came again.
This time, I let her walk inside with me.
The property manager’s name was Denise Walker.
She looked at my identification for a long time.
Then she compared it with something on her computer.
“Ms. Carter, I’m going to ask you a question that may sound strange.”
“Go ahead.”
“Have you ever used the name Rachel Hart?”
“No.”
“Have you ever lived in Unit 304?”
“No.”
“Have you ever authorized Simon Hart to sign rental documents for you?”
“No.”
Denise exhaled.
“Then we have a serious problem.”
She printed a lease.
My name was on it.
RACHEL HART.
Simon Hart was listed as spouse.
The emergency contact was his mother, Patricia Hart.
My driver’s license number appeared below my fake signature.
I looked at Denise.
“How did you approve this?”
“The application was digital.”
“So?”
“Documents were uploaded.”
“What documents?”
She showed me.
My driver’s license.
My tax return.
A pay stub.
A bank statement.
I recognized all of them.
Simon had asked me to send him those exact files three years earlier.
But there was something else.
A marriage certificate.
I stopped breathing.
“That isn’t real.”
Denise leaned closer.
“What?”
“We are not married.”
Melissa swore.
Denise’s face lost color.
The certificate said Simon and I had married in a civil ceremony in another county.
The date was four years earlier.
The witnesses were names I didn’t recognize.
I stared at the paper.
“This is impossible.”
Denise immediately called someone.
I barely heard her.
My attention had moved to another line.
Occupants.
Simon Hart.
Rachel Hart.
Emily Hart.
I pointed.
“Who is Emily?”
Denise looked uncomfortable.
“I assumed she was your sister.”
“I don’t have a sister named Emily.”
Melissa raised her hand slightly.
“I’m the sister.”
Denise swallowed.
Unit 304 had been rented continuously for almost two years.
Payments came from the secret account.
The same account opened using my identity.
“Can we go upstairs?”
Denise hesitated.
“If the current occupant is home, I can’t let you enter without permission.”
“I’m not asking to enter.”
I stood.
“I want to see the door.”
Unit 304 was at the end of the third-floor hallway.
There was a small wreath hanging from the door.
Under it was a wooden sign.
THE HARTS.
Melissa stopped walking.
“Oh, hell no.”
I stared at the sign.
My legs felt strangely light.
Then the door opened.
A woman stepped out carrying a travel mug.
She froze.
I recognized her from the photograph.
Mid-thirties.
Dark hair.
Gray coat.
She looked at me.
Then at Denise.
Then at Simon’s fake wife standing beside her real sister.
Her face went white.
“Rachel?”
My stomach dropped.
She knew me.
“Who are you?”
The woman’s hand tightened around the mug.
“Emily.”
“Emily what?”
She swallowed.
“Emily Dawson.”
I looked at the lease again.
“Why are you listed as Emily Hart?”
Her eyes widened.
“I’m what?”
Nobody spoke.
Emily slowly put the mug down on the hallway table.
“Simon told me your name was only on paperwork because you co-signed the apartment.”
My heartbeat hammered against my ribs.
“What did he tell you about me?”
Emily looked sick.
“That you were his cousin.”
Melissa made a sound behind me.
I couldn’t.
I just stood there.
Emily continued.
“He said you had excellent credit and helped him qualify.”
“Did he tell you we lived together?”
“No.”
“Did he tell you we had been together for nine years?”
Her face crumpled.
“No.”
“How long have you been seeing him?”
She looked at the floor.
“Three years.”
The hallway disappeared around me.
Three years.
Not one mistake.
Not one drunken night.
Three years.
Almost a third of our relationship.
“Do you live here together?”
“Not exactly.”
“What does that mean?”
“He stays here.”
“How often?”
“Two or three nights a week.”
My mind started reorganizing old memories.
Late meetings.
Business trips.
Gym nights.
Visiting his mother.
Overnight conferences.
He had constructed another life using pieces of mine.
My money.
My identity.
My documents.
Emily suddenly looked at Denise.
“What is happening?”
Denise spoke carefully.
“There appear to be irregularities in the lease documentation.”
Emily turned back to me.
“Simon told me you knew about this place.”
“I learned about it yesterday.”
She covered her mouth.
I thought I would hate her.
I didn’t.
Not immediately.
She looked almost as shocked as I felt.
“Did he tell you he was going to marry you?”
I asked.
Her eyes filled.
“Yes.”
Something inside me broke.
Not because he had promised her marriage.
Because I suddenly understood his cruelty.
Simon had not been afraid of marriage.
He had been comparing us.
Testing us.
Managing two women at once.
“Did he tell you what you needed to do first?”
Emily frowned.
“What?”
“To become wife material.”
The blood drained from her face.
I knew before she answered.
“Yes.”
Melissa whispered a curse.
Emily gripped the wall.
“He said I needed to become more stable.”
I laughed once.
A sharp, ugly sound.
“To me, he said I complained too much and didn’t cook enough.”
Emily stared at me.
“He said you were difficult.”
“Of course he did.”
“He said you were irresponsible.”
“That’s why he used my credit?”
She flinched.
“I didn’t know.”
“I believe you.”
That surprised both of us.
Emily looked toward her apartment.
“There’s something you need to see.”
Denise warned her not to let anyone remove items while the lease was being reviewed.
Emily nodded.
Then she opened the door.
I expected signs of Simon everywhere.
Instead, the condo looked curated.
New.
Expensive.
Furniture I had unknowingly financed.
A television charged to my credit line.
The bedding.
The appliances.
The coffee machine.
All of it.
I stood in the kitchen looking at thousands of dollars of purchases attached to my name.
Then I noticed a framed photograph.
Simon and Emily on a beach.
His arm around her waist.
The photograph had been taken on what he told me was a work trip to Miami.
Emily followed my gaze.
“He proposed there.”
I turned.
“What?”
Her hand moved unconsciously to her coat pocket.
She pulled out a small velvet box.
Inside was a diamond ring.
I stared at it.
For one surreal second, I wondered whether this was the ring he had refused to give me.
Then Emily said something worse.
“He told me we could finally announce the engagement after he finished separating his finances from you.”
My skin went cold.
“When?”
“Next month.”
“Separating his finances?”
“He said you had access to accounts that belonged to him.”
I looked around the apartment.
A cold realization settled over me.
Simon had not merely been cheating.
He had been preparing.
Something financial had been happening for years.
Something bigger than rent and furniture.
“Emily.”
She looked at me.
“Did Simon ever ask you to sign anything for me?”
“No.”
“Did he ever ask you to witness documents?”
She hesitated.
My pulse jumped.
“What?”
“There was something.”
“Tell me.”
“He brought papers here last year.”
“What papers?”
“I didn’t read them.”
“Emily.”
“He said you were selling him your share of a small investment account.”
My mouth went dry.
“I don’t have an investment account with him.”
Emily walked to a desk.
She opened a drawer.
Then stopped.
The drawer was empty.
“He kept copies here.”
“Where are they?”
“I don’t know.”
Her phone buzzed.
She looked at the screen.
Her face changed.
“Simon.”
I held out my hand.
“Put him on speaker.”
She answered.
“Hello?”
Simon’s voice came through instantly.
“Emily, listen to me.”
He sounded breathless.
“Rachel may come there.”
Emily looked directly at me.
“She’s already here.”
Silence.
Long enough that I heard him inhale.
Then his voice became calm.
Too calm.
“Don’t let her touch anything.”
I stepped closer.
“Hi, Simon.”
Another silence.
Then he said my name.
“Rachel.”
“Interesting apartment.”
“This is not what you think.”
“Which part?”
He ignored me.
“Emily, I need you to leave.”
Emily’s eyes narrowed.
“Why?”
“Just go.”
“Simon, did you forge Rachel’s signature?”
“No.”
“Did you tell me she was your cousin?”
Silence.
Emily’s mouth fell open.
That silence answered everything.
Then Simon said something that turned my anger into fear.
“Rachel, you need to stop digging.”
“Why?”
“You don’t understand what you’re getting involved in.”
“You’re the thing I’m involved in.”
“No.”
His voice dropped.
“You really don’t understand.”
The line went dead.
Five minutes later, Denise received a call from security.
A man had entered the underground garage.
Simon.
May you like
He had arrived.
And according to the guard downstairs, he wasn’t alone.
