Captive of The Beast Alpha: Drugging the CEO Was a Mistake.-Chapter 28: Caleb: The perfect crime III

Patricia nodded and continued with the questions.

"Mrs Moore, what was your mother’s maiden name?"

"Bennett. Stephanie Bennett."

Patricia nodded. "And date of death?"

"Um..." she glanced at me.

"She died ten days ago," I said gently, squeezing Isabella’s hand. "She’s still grieving; she spaces out sometimes. The therapist said we should give her time."

Patricia flashed me a polite smile, indicating that my explanation was unnecessary.

"Mr Moore, I need Mrs Moore to answer these questions herself."

"Of course, of course." I rubbed Isabella’s back soothingly. "Take your time, love."

"Ten days ago," Isabella repeated, with a shaky voice. "She passed ten days ago."

"And where did she grow up?"

Another pause. We’d gone over this, but Isabella’s memory wasn’t perfect.

"She grew up in..." Isabella’s voice wavered, and tears started forming in her eyes. I’d told her that if the questions were too tricky, she should cry. It will distract whoever was interviewing us and give me enough time. "I’m sorry, I can’t—this is too hard—

"It’s Riverside District," I said quietly. "It’s in the eastern part of the city. My wife is still mourning, as you can see. She’s disoriented."

Patricia’s expression shifted back to sympathy, winning out over suspicion. "Of course. I understand. One last question, and then we’ll move on to the physical verification."

Isabella and I nodded.

"Do you know where she was buried?" Patricia asked.

"Greenvale Cemetery," Isabella answered, a bit too fast.

I gave her a warning nudge, smiling at Patricia whose spectacled eyes had caught that movement. After that, she rose to her feet and asked us to follow her.

She led us down a hallway to a room with biometric scanning equipment. "Mrs Moore, if you could place your hand here?"

Isabella pressed the fake hand, the one with Naya’s fingerprints embedded in a thin layer of synthetic skin, against the scanner. I held my breath as the machine beeped and whirred, processing the data.

This was the riskiest part.

After a while, the scanner stopped reading and flashed a green light, indicating ’Match confirmed."

"Perfect," Patricia said, making a note on her tablet. "Now for the facial recognition scan."

Isabella stood in front of the camera, and I watched as the laser grid swept over her face—over Naya’s face, as far as the computer was concerned. The mask was flawless, every contour and detail matching the facial profile I’d scanned from Naya in my car.

After a few seconds, the green light flashed, confirming a match.

"Excellent. Now I need to verify the marriage certificate." Patricia held out her hand, and I produced the document. It was technically I and Isabella’s but I was thankful that the certificate only carried our last names.

Patricia examined it carefully, comparing it against something on her tablet. "Everything appears to be in order. The policy stipulated that Ms Rivers needed to be married at the time of the claim to access the full inheritance. Since you were married before Mrs Rivers passed, you meet that requirement."

I felt triumph surge through me, but kept my expression sombre.

"However," Patricia continued, and my stomach dropped slightly, "given the significant amount involved—over twenty million dollars—we do require a final confirmation hearing. Company policy for claims over one million."

"A hearing?" Isabella’s voice squeaked slightly with nervousness.

"Nothing to worry about, dear. Just a formality." Patricia smiled reassuringly. "We’ll need you both to return in five days with family members who can verify your identity and relationship to the deceased. And Mrs Rivers’ instruction was for Naya to come with the family."

This was actually perfect.

Having Naya’s father and stepmother there would add legitimacy to the whole thing. They’d confirm that Isabella was Naya, because they’d be in on the scheme. We’d split the money five ways—me, Isabella, her mother, her father, and a small cut for the lawyer who’d forged some of the documents.

"That won’t be a problem," I said smoothly. "We can bring her father and stepmother. They were listed as witnesses on the marriage certificate."

"And Isabella," Patricia said, looking up from her tablet. "According to Mrs Rivers’ instructions, everyone in the family should come."

I could only nod in response, trying to keep my expression neutral.

"Wonderful." Patricia made another note. "We’ll schedule it for next Tuesday at two PM. Bring valid identification and be prepared to answer more questions about Mrs Rivers and your relationship with her. It’s just standard procedure."

We left the building half an hour later, and I didn’t let myself relax until we were back in the car with the doors locked. Then I let out a breath I hadn’t realised I’d been holding and turned to Isabella with a grin.

"We did it," I said. "Five more days and that money is ours."

"How are we going to get an Isabella?

"Relax, babe," I chuckled. "Five days is a lot of time. I’ll come up with something by then."

"So, this is not going to be a problem?" she asked, staring at me earnestly.

I was a huge problem, but I didn’t want to let her know. She’d end up panicking, and right now I didn’t want to deal with that.

"Of course not, babe. Everything will be fine."

She inhaled deeply, then carefully pulled off the face mask, revealing her own features. Her face was red and sweaty from wearing it, but she was smiling. "Twenty million dollars, Caleb. We’re actually going to pull this off."

"Of course we are." I leaned over and kissed her.

I thought about Naya, probably still at Hansel Ward’s penthouse, completely unaware that we were stealing her inheritance right out from under her. She’d never even know the money existed until it was too late. And by then, we’d be long gone, living in our new house in Wellspring Estate, finally among the elite where we belonged.

Isabella reached for her bag in the car to grab some wipes while she was busy with that, and I decided to check my phone. We’ve left the house so early in the morning that I didn’t get a chance to go through my usual morning routine before arriving here.

When I opened my phone, I had thirty-five missed calls from my agent, Larry. Puzzled, I quickly dialled his number, wondering if something good had turned up for me and he couldn’t just wait to share it with me.

"Hello, Larry, I’m sorry, I missed your call..."

The rest of the words dried up in my throat as Larry’s voice blasted into my ears from the phone.

"Why didn’t you tell me you truly date Naya Rivers – Stephanie Rivers’ only daughter?"