No Longer Their Daughter

Paul waddled onto the stage, his beer belly leading the way. His greasy eyes crawled over me as he reached out to wrap an arm around my waist.

The atmosphere hit its peak. Everyone was praising the Howes for their virtue and celebrating the happy occasion.

I stepped aside, dodging Paul's hand, and smoothly took the microphone.

"It is a happy occasion." I smiled, my voice cool and steady as it carried through the speakers. "But Father, you forgot something."

Nelson frowned, his eyes flashing a warning.

I pressed the small remote in my hand, and the giant screen behind us abruptly changed.

The sentimental music cut off mid note, replaced by rough audio and grainy video.

Nelson's cold voice rang out, clear as day, recorded on the day of the kidnapping. "I'll keep the money for charity and image laundering. What's one dead daughter? Saves me from having to split the inheritance if she came back, and it even helps build my public persona."

Another clip followed, Lilith's voice at the kidnapping scene. "Just kill her! My dad will pay you double to keep quiet. Just make sure she's dead."

Then came page after page of private account transfers, followed by the fake contracts meant to frame me and send me to prison, each one signed by Nelson.

The room exploded into chaos.

Cameras flashed wildly. Shutters snapped like rapid gunfire.

Nelson's face drained of color, as if he were struck by lightning.

He snapped out of it and roared, charging toward me to grab the mic. "Turn it off! Shut it down! It's fake. This lunatic fabricated everything!"

Before he could reach me, financial crimes officers who had been waiting burst in from the side entrance and slammed him to the floor.

"Nelson Howe, you're under arrest for money laundering, solicitation of murder, and corporate fraud."

I stood under the spotlight and looked down at the Howes in total collapse.

My mother had sunk to the floor. Lilith screamed as creditors swarmed around her.

I slowly removed the black lace glove I had worn all night.

I had only four fingers on my left hand. My pinky was gone, leaving a jagged, horrifying wound. It was pain carried over from both lives, and in this moment, the sharpest evidence of all.

A collective gasp rippled through the crowd.

I pulled out the notebook that listed my so-called debt of 760 thousand dollars and flung it straight at my sobbing mother's face.

Paper scattered through the air like falling snow.

I spoke into the microphone slowly and clearly, "Consider the 760 thousand my payment for giving me life. That ten million in dirty money buys you your meals in prison. Mr. Howe, since you care so much about proving your impartiality, from today on, we'll be strangers."

I dropped the microphone, turned, and jumped off the stage, walking straight toward the exit without looking back.

Behind me was the thunder of an empire collapsing. Ahead was a night that was dark, but free.

A black car waited in the pouring rain. The window rolled down, revealing a pair of familiar eyes.

"Get in."

He was the only one who had bothered to collect my body in my last life.