Chapter 3
The night air bit through my thin jacket as I huddled on the park bench across from Memorial Hospital. My fingers were numb, but I couldn't stop dialing. Not when Estrella's life hung by a thread.
"Grace? It's Sariyah. Please, I need help." My voice cracked as I spoke into the phone. "Cooper's lying about everything."
"I saw the livestream, Sariyah." Grace's voice was cautious. "Those screenshots looked legit. Three million dollars?"
"They're lies! Cooper's manipulating everyone!" I pressed my palm against my forehead, trying to think clearly. "He's got Ariyah living in our house now."
"Look, I'm sorry about Estrella. Really, I am. But..." She paused. "Maybe you should talk to a lawyer instead of begging online."
The line went dead.
I scrolled through my contacts again. Twenty-three calls in the last three hours. Five people had hung up immediately. Four had told me they couldn't help. The rest hadn't answered at all.
"Mrs. Webb?" A security guard approached, flashlight beam sweeping across my face. "This area's closing for the night."
I clutched my phone tighter. "I'm just waiting for news about my daughter."
"At the hospital across the street?" His expression softened slightly. "You should go home and get some rest."
Home. The word felt hollow now.
My phone buzzed with a text from an unknown number: "Stop lying about Cooper. Everyone knows the truth now."
I stared at the screen until it went dark, then brightened again as I typed another message to my cousin Jessica: "Please call me. Estrella needs surgery."
No response.
The realization hit me like a physical blow—Cooper had been isolating me for years. Friends I'd lost touch with. Family members who only spoke to me at holidays. Even my own parents had been kept at arm's length since their deaths, with Cooper handling all the inheritance details.
"He was cutting me off from everyone," I whispered to myself, watching the hospital lights blur through my tears. "Making sure there'd be no one left to help when this happened."
My phone battery flashed red. 3% left.
In desperation, I opened Facebook and searched for college friends. Grace had blocked me—probably thought I was scamming her too. But then I remembered Theo Shaw.
Theo, who'd been my study partner in organic chemistry. Theo, who'd moved abroad senior year and lost touch. Theo, who'd always been kind when others weren't.
I found him through another classmate's profile. Private message:
"Theo, this is Sariyah Webb. I know it's been forever, but I need help. My daughter Estrella is dying, and everyone thinks I'm lying about needing money for her surgery."
I attached a photo of Estrella from the hospital bed.
The response came almost immediately: "Sariyah? My God, what's happening?"
As I explained everything—Cooper's betrayal, Ariyah's involvement, the $500,000 surgery—my phone battery died completely.
But not before I saw Theo's last message: "I'm booking a flight now. Give me 24 hours."
---
Twenty-four hours. Estrella might not have that long.
I spent the day in coffee shops, charging my phone when I could, watching Estrella's condition deteriorate through the hospital windows. Cooper and Ariyah came and went, their faces grim but not grieved.
That evening, I noticed Cooper's BMW missing from the driveway as I approached our house—my house—under cover of darkness.
"Mrs. Fernandez?" I called softly, ringing the doorbell. No answer.
The spare key was still under the potted plant. My hands shook as I unlocked the door and slipped inside.
The house smelled different—Ariyah's perfume lingering in the air. But I didn't have time to dwell on that. I needed documents, proof of Cooper's lies.
In our bedroom—their bedroom now—I found nothing useful. But in Cooper's office, behind a false panel in the bookshelf that I'd discovered years ago, was a small safe.
The combination hadn't changed: Estrella's birthday.
Inside were insurance policies, bank statements, and legal documents.
My fingers trembled as I pulled out a life insurance policy dated just six months ago. Five million dollars coverage on Estrella's life.
With Cooper listed as the sole beneficiary.
"No," I whispered, photographing the document with my phone. "No, no, no."
The dates matched perfectly—the policy had been taken out right after Estrella's last checkup, when the doctor had mentioned she had a minor heart condition that would need monitoring.
Cooper hadn't been worried about her health. He'd been setting up the perfect scam.
I photographed everything, my hands shaking so badly I had to steady them against the desk.
"He wants her to die," I realized, bile rising in my throat. "He's been waiting for this."
The sound of tires on gravel made me freeze. Headlights swept across the window as a car pulled into the driveway.
They were back early.
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