Chapter 6 - MY FUNERAL WITHOUT A BODY
Three weeks after I disappeared, Carter held a candlelight memorial.
Not a funeral.
There was still no body.
But apparently grief required catering.
The event took place on my lawn.
My trust’s lawn.
Carter stood beneath white flowers telling guests how much he loved me.
Vanessa stayed appropriately distant from the cameras.
Brenda cried loudly enough for microphones.
I watched from a secure video feed.
At one point Carter placed his hand over his heart.
“Chloe was gentle.”
I almost threw my laptop.
“She trusted everyone.”
That hurt because it was true.
Then he said:
“If she is somehow still alive, I hope she knows I’ll never stop looking.”
Henderson muted the television.
“Thank you.”
“You looked ready to commit property damage.”
“I’m recovering.”
The police investigation had quietly changed direction.
The detective assigned to my disappearance now knew I was alive.
Only a tiny circle did.
My attorneys had arranged my cooperation through the district attorney while protecting the fact from Carter.
I gave a formal statement.
Every word he said in the forest.
The soup.
Vanessa.
The insurance money.
The threat.
Investigators tested the recovered bowl and kitchen materials.
They found evidence consistent with the toxic substance that had caused my medical crisis.
The botanical supplier produced records.
Vanessa had ordered toxic plant extracts under the false explanation that they were needed for a private landscaping project.
Then investigators recovered deleted messages.
Carter:
How much does it take?
Vanessa:
Enough that she won’t make it to a hospital.
Carter:
I don’t want suffering.
Vanessa:
You’re literally killing her. Don’t become sentimental now.
I read that line twice.
Then stopped.
Not because I couldn’t handle more.
Because I finally understood something.
I had spent years believing Vanessa wanted my husband.
She didn’t.
She wanted the life she imagined came with him.
The estate.
The insurance.
The status.
And Carter wanted what he believed my death would unlock.
They had not killed me because I was worthless.
They tried to kill me because they believed I was valuable only after death.
That realization freed something inside me.
I stopped asking:
Why wasn’t I enough?
The correct question was:
Why had I spent seven years measuring myself using people this empty?
The next morning Miriam entered holding documents.
“We’re ready.”
“For arrests?”
“Soon.”
She placed another paper in front of me.
Carter had just attempted to use his temporary marital authority to refinance the estate.
My estate.
The lender had scheduled an in-person closing for Friday.
Miriam smiled.
“Would you like to attend?”
I stared at her.
“In person?”
“Yes.”
My heartbeat quickened.
May you like
After nearly a month of being dead—
Friday seemed like an excellent day to come home.
