Erased: My Family's Death Certificate

"Security? I've got three trespassers at the front gate claiming to be my dead relatives.

Take out the trash, would you?" I lifted my finger off the estate intercom, a dry scoff escaping my lips.

Just beyond the wroughtiron gates, my parents and younger brother—people who had been "deceased" for two years—gripped the metal bars.

They rubbed their hands together, pasting on sickeningly sweet smiles as they desperately tried to squeeze through the gates of my multimilliondollar estate. "Sloane!

Cut the crap! We are your flesh and blood!" Paula slapped the iron bars, her face twisting.

I picked a piece of invisible lint off my sleeve, crossing my arms as I leaned against the marble pillar of the entryway. "Save the family reunion speech for someone who cares." Legally speaking, they were nothing but ghosts.

Because two years ago, I was the one who personally erased their existence from the system. Chapter 1 "Dead again?" The words tasted like ash on my tongue. I was back.

Eighteen years old. On this exact day in my previous life, my biological parents, Bruce and Paula, faked their deaths and vanished into thin air with my little brother, Tristan.

They drained the last cent from our family accounts, abandoning me to face a tidal wave of bloodthirsty debt collectors. I was forced to drop out of college.

My days bled into scrubbing toilets at a roachinfested motel, while my nights were swallowed by the graveyard shift at a sketchy gas station.

On weekends, I dragged my exhausted body through gated communities, knocking on doors to peddle lawnmowing services to the rich.

The mob enforcers tracked me down to the miserable trailer park I called home. They shattered my windows. They spraypainted vile slurs across my car doors.

They even shoved dead rats into my mailbox. The neighbors stared at me like I was a plague rat, and the park manager threw my meager belongings onto the dirt.

Right when the abyss was about to swallow me whole, Caleb appeared. My college senior. He was the life raft I desperately clung to.

He drove off the thugs, moved me into a sunlit apartment, and kept me fed. "Sloane, don't be scared," he used to whisper, his thumbs stroking my knuckles. "I've got you." I swallowed his lies whole, desperate for a safe harbor.

I fell for him. Trusted him with every shattered piece of myself. Then came the hook.

He convinced me to transfer the deed of the house my parents left behind into his name. "Let me handle the legal mess, Sloane. They won't be able to touch you." I signed the papers.

The very next morning, he was gone. The punchline? Caleb was just another creditor in disguise. Bruce had swindled his father out of a cool two hundred grand.

Caleb’s affection, his protection, his soft words—it was all a calculated, bloodcurdling con. The final blow didn't come from a thug's fist, but from a doctor's clipboard.

Stage four stomach cancer. A rotting gift from years of starving myself and working my body into the ground.

Chained to an IV drip on a sterile hospital mattress, bile burned the back of my throat. Where were they? Sucking down margaritas on a beach?

They had slaughtered my future to buy their own peace.

In the end, on a night where the blizzard howled like a wounded animal, my lack of health insurance and maxedout credit cards sealed my fate.

Hospital security dragged me out into the freezing snow. I died on the icy metal grating of a bus stop bench. Alone. My frozen corpse sat there for days before anyone even noticed.

When the darkness finally took me, there was no fear. Just a venomous, allconsuming hatred burning through my veins. If I ever got a second chance, the naive girl was dead.

I would make every single person who threw me to the wolves bleed for what they did. My eyes snapped open. I sucked in a lungful of air that didn't smell like antiseptic and rot.

Golden sunlight sliced through the gap in the curtains, illuminating my old bedroom. My eyes locked onto the calendar pinned to the drywall. June 8, 2022.

The exact morning Bruce and Paula made their great escape. I kicked off the tangled sheets and sprinted into the hallway. The living room was dead silent.

The doors to my parents' and Tristan's bedrooms were wide open, the interiors trashed as if a tornado had ripped through the closets.

A single piece of notebook paper rested on the kitchen island. "Sloane, we hit a rough patch. Your mom and I are taking Tristan out of state to lay low for a bit.

Take care of yourself. Don't try to find us." Identical down to the lazy handwriting. I crushed the paper in my fist until my knuckles turned stark white. Take care of yourself.

How disgustingly convenient. They had tossed me into a den of starving wolves and told me not to get bitten. In my past life, this note had triggered a fullblown panic attack.

I had blown up their phones with calls and terrified texts, getting nothing but dead air in return. I had been a sitting duck.

Exactly thirty minutes from now, the first wave of mob enforcers would kick my front door off its hinges.

Chapter 2 In this life, staring at that hypocritical note only churned my stomach. I ripped the paper into tiny shreds and let them flutter into the trash can.

I stepped into Bruce's home office. In my previous life, I had pawned everything not nailed down to pay off his debts, except for the locked steel safe bolted to the floor.

I could never crack it. But I remembered a night Bruce got blackout drunk and bragged that his entire safety net was locked inside. The combination?

His and Paula's wedding anniversary, followed by Tristan's birthday. And me? I was just the accident. I didn't make the cut.

I crouched in front of the safe, punched in the numbers burned into my memory, and waited. A sharp beep echoed. The heavy steel door clicked open. No stacks of cash.

Just a few manila envelopes. I tore open the first one. Passports and forged driver's licenses tumbled out. They had planned this getaway down to the letter.

The second envelope held a stack of offshore bank cards. A dry scoff escaped me. That was it. The sum total of their escape fund. But the third envelope was the jackpot.

Inside were the family's original Social Security cards and birth certificates. And right beneath them… a fully notarized General Power of Attorney.

Bruce always thought he was the smartest guy in the room.

He probably pulled strings to get this drafted, signing his name on the dotted line just in case he needed to manage his assets from the shadows.

He never imagined that his little safety net would be the exact shovel I’d use to dig his grave.

I gripped the notarized document, the corners of my mouth pulling into a razorthin smile. "You left this for me, Bruce.

Don't blame me for using it." Heavy boots stomped onto the front porch. "Bruce! You owe us!

Get your ass out here!" Fists pounded against the wood. "Open up, or we kick it in!" I ignored the pounding.

I pulled out my phone and dialed 911. "911, what's your emergency?" "Please, I need help," I whispered, injecting the perfect amount of trembling panic into my voice. "My house has been broken into.

My parents and my little brother are gone." "There's a weird ransom note left behind. I'm so scared." Not a debt collection. A kidnapping.

Since they wanted to play dead, I was more than happy to make it a reality. The blare of police sirens cut through the neighborhood fast.

The patrol cruisers boxed in the mobsters at the front door. Chaos erupted on the lawn. I pulled the front door open.

Standing at the forefront was the bald thug who had driven me to my grave in my past life—Rex.

His eyes locked onto me, practically foaming at the mouth as he shoved past a uniform to lunge at the porch. "Where are they, you little bitch!" Two officers instantly drew their Tasers, leveling the laser sights right at his chest. "Back up!

Hands behind your head and get on the ground right now!" "Officer, this bitch's old man owes us a fortune! We're just here to collect!" Rex roared, throwing his hands up in the air.

Chapter 3 I cowered behind the nearest officer, making sure my voice trembled perfectly. "Officer, I don't know what they're talking about… I woke up and everyone was gone.

They just left this note saying they were going into hiding…" I handed over the torn, tapedup piece of paper.

The cops passed the note around, sweeping their flashlights over the ransacked rooms, their brows pulling tight. Rex and his crew sneered. "You see that, Officer?

They ran!" Rex pointed a meaty finger at me. "The little bitch knows exactly where they are!

Arrest her!" I shrank back, forcing moisture to pool in my eyes. "I really don't know… My parents never tell me anything." "I'm just a student.

I don't know anything about their business…" My eighteenyearold face still held onto its baby fat, and paired with my hyperventilating act, I was the picture of innocent collateral damage.

The officers bought it hook, line, and sinker. They deescalated the thugs, issuing stern warnings against any vigilante justice.

A grayhaired veteran cop pulled me aside to take my statement.

I fed him the exact script I'd rehearsed: my parents had been stressed, sighing over business troubles, but I was kept entirely in the dark. "What are you going to do now, kid?" The older cop looked at me with genuine pity. "I don't know…" I shook my head, my eyes glazed. "I want to file a missing persons report.

Can you find them?" "We'll open a case file," he nodded slowly. "But legally, an adult has to be missing for fortyeight hours before we can launch a full investigation. Hang tight.

They might just be clearing their heads." Clearing their heads? They were probably already at the departure gate with oneway tickets to South America.

But I kept up the terrified act, nodding frantically. The second the cops cleared the driveway and dragged the mobsters away, I slammed the door shut and flipped the deadbolt.

Time for Phase Two.

Armed with the notarized General Power of Attorney, I logged onto a real estate portal under Bruce's name and listed our suburban house in the prime school district.

The headline was a neon sign for sharks: [PREFORECLOSURE FIRE SALE! CASH ONLY! ASIS, NO CONTINGENCIES!] The deed was in both my parents' names, their only marital asset.

But with this piece of paper, I held all the cards. In my last life, Caleb had swindled this very property out from under me for pennies on the dollar.

This time, I was squeezing every last drop of equity out of it. The bait worked perfectly. My phone exploded with notifications within the hour.

I filtered through the vultures and locked in on a buyer who promised an instant wire transfer. We scheduled a walkthrough for that afternoon.

I grabbed my keys, but the doorbell chimed. I peered through the peephole. My stomach dropped like a lead weight. Caleb.

He stood on the porch looking like the perfect college senior in his crisp white buttondown, his features twisted into a mask of flawless, manufactured concern. "Sloane? It's me.

Open up." I dug my nails into my palms until the pain grounded me, then pulled the door open. "Caleb?

What are you doing here?" His eyes swept over my reddened rims, and the fake sympathy thickened. "I heard what happened with your folks.

I had to make sure you were okay." He stepped over the threshold, moving into my space with practiced ease, and pushed the door shut behind him. "Sloane, don't be scared.

Tell me exactly what's going on." Chapter 4 Bile crawled up my throat as I stared at his perfectly sculpted mask of concern.

In my past life, that exact look had me eating out of the palm of his hand. Now, it just made me want to projectile vomit.

I dropped my chin to my chest, forcing my shoulders to shake as if I were sobbing uncontrollably. "I don't know…" I choked out. "My parents are gone.

All these men came looking for money… Caleb, I'm terrified." He snatched a tissue from the box and pressed it into my hands. "Hey, hey, shh.

I'm right here." "Don't worry about the debt. I'll take care of it." He paused, his voice slipping into a practiced, casual drawl. "By the way, did your folks leave anything behind?

You know, important documents? Like the deed to the house?" Bingo. There was the hook.

I tilted my head up, widening my eyes to give him a look of absolute, blind devotion. "I think… it's locked in the safe in my dad's office." "Show me." He stepped forward, the urgency bleeding through his mask. "Sloane, this house is your only safety net." "We can't let those thugs get their hands on it.

Sign the deed over to me. I'll keep it safe under my name until the heat dies down, and then I'll transfer it right back to you." The exact same pitch. The perfect con.

In my past life, I had marched straight into his slaughterhouse with a smile. This time, I was holding the butcher knife.

I chewed on my bottom lip, pretending to hesitate, before giving him a slow nod. "Okay, Caleb. I trust you." I led him into the office and popped the safe open.

The moment his eyes landed on the property deed, a raw, hungry gleam flared in his pupils. He masked it fast, but I caught the microexpression.

His hand shot out to snatch the folder.

I snatched the documents right out from under his fingers. "Caleb," I drawled, flashing him a sugary, venomous smile. "What do you think would happen if I sent this—along with the audio recording of this little conversation—straight to your Ivy League fraternity brothers and the law school admissions office?" I lifted my other hand, waving my phone.

The red recording light blinked steadily. The color drained from Caleb's face, leaving him looking like a freshly embalmed corpse. "Sloane!

What the hell are you—" "I what?" The smile vanished from my lips, replaced by a gaze so cold it could shatter glass. "Did you really think I was that stupid, Caleb?" "Bruce swindled your old man out of two hundred grand.

So, your genius plan was to trick me out of a milliondollar property, flip it for cash, make your money back, and pocket a massive profit.

Right?" Caleb stared at me, his jaw unhinged. No sound came out.

His brain was likely shortcircuiting, unable to compute how the naive, desperate girl who worshipped the ground he walked on had suddenly morphed into his worst nightmare. "I… no…" He took a step back, holding his hands up. "Sloane, let me explain…" "Explain?" I spat, taking a step toward him. "Explain how you and Rex have been working together this whole time?" "Playing good cop, bad cop to corner me?

Or do you want to explain how you knew my parents were skipping town, and even helped book their goddamn flights?" It was the sickening truth I had witnessed as a ghost, watching him count his cash over my rotting corpse.

Caleb’s breath hitched.

He stared at me, his pupils blown wide with terror, like he was looking at the devil himself. "How… how do you know…" "How I know doesn't matter." I backed him up against the office wall, closing the distance. "What matters is that right now, you have two choices." Chapter 5 "One, I send this recording to your Ivy League fraternity brothers and the law school admissions office, letting them see exactly what kind of fraud they let in.

I'll also file a police report for wire fraud and extortion, putting you away for at least ten years on federal felony charges." "Two." I paused, drinking in the violent tremors shaking his frame.

A slow, satisfied smile stretched across my face. "You do exactly one thing for me." Caleb finally caved.

After all, the terror of me exposing him paled in comparison to the nightmare of losing his golden ticket to an Ivy League law school and his elite fraternity resources.

My demand was simple. He was going to use his network to liquidate the house as fast as humanly possible, at a price that wouldn't trigger any red flags.

On top of that, he had to engineer the perfect illusion: that he manipulated my trust, tricked me into signing the Power of Attorney, and sold the property out from under me.

Caleb's brow furrowed. "Why?" "Because I need an alibi." I flicked an invisible speck of dust off my jeans. "An excuse that lets the 'poor victim' walk away with the cash without putting a giant target on her back for the mob." I was going to make everyone believe I was the pathetic, clueless little girl left with absolutely nothing.

Caleb clearly had no idea what kind of game I was playing, but selfpreservation kicked in. He fell into line. He moved fast.

By that afternoon, he had locked down a buyer willing to drop two point eight million dollars in a straight cash transaction.

We finalized the deal in the back booth of a downtown coffee shop.

I scrawled my dad's forged signature using the notarized Power of Attorney, and watched the money hit my newly opened offshore account in realtime. Caleb played his part perfectly.

Right in front of the buyer, he squeezed my shoulder, laying the fake sympathy on thick. "Sloane, don't worry about a thing.

I'll keep this money safe in my account for you." I forced tears into my eyes, looking up at him like he was my savior. "Caleb, thank you so much.

I'd be dead in the water without you." The second the buyer walked out the glass doors, Caleb's mask slipped. His face hardened into concrete. "Sloane. You got your money.

Delete the damn recording." I waved my phone in the air, flashing him an innocent, wideeyed smile. "Of course." I tapped the screen, hitting the delete icon right in front of his face.

Caleb exhaled a sharp breath, his shoulders dropping. He stared at me, pure disgust rolling off him in waves. "I really underestimated you, Sloane.

I had no idea you were such a manipulative bitch." "Takes one to know one," I shot back, not breaking eye contact. He scoffed, spinning on his heel and storming out of the cafe.

Watching him retreat, the smile on my lips carved deeper. Idiot. Did he really think I'd wipe out my only leverage? Ever heard of cloud backup?

With the property liquidated, I headed straight to the police precinct. The fortyeighthour waiting period was officially up.

I formally filed a missing persons report for Bruce, Paula, and Tristan.

I also made sure to drop a crucial tip. "Officer, I just remembered something," I stammered, tapping my temple as if struggling to pull up the memory. "My dad mentioned something about a business venture in… Eastern Europe, I think?

Some small country… what was the name…" I deliberately fed them a location on the complete opposite side of the globe from their actual South American hideout.

It would send the authorities on a wild goose chase across the Atlantic, buying me all the time in the world to execute the next phase of my plan.

Chapter 6 Over the next few days, I played the pathetic, broken victim for the debt collectors while quietly laying the brickwork for my revenge.

I skimmed a small fraction off the top of the house money and proactively reached out to the minor creditors—the ones who had loaned Bruce money through microloan agencies and community mutual funds.

Most of them were bluecollar workers just scraping by to keep the lights on. In my past life, they had been part of the mob that drove me to an early grave.

But this time around, I was playing a different game. I arranged a sitdown at a local diner.

I squeezed out the perfect amount of tears, sobbing as I recounted how Caleb had conned me out of my family's only asset.

I made sure to emphasize that, even though the house was gone, I was willing to work my fingers to the bone to pay them back. "Listen, I know what my dad owes you, and I'm not running from it," I choked out, keeping my head bowed in total submission. "This cash is the absolute last of my living expenses—money I hid away before I lost the house.

I'm giving each of you a thousand bucks right now. I swear, I'll pay off every last cent." I slid the thick envelopes of cash across the sticky diner table.

The guys exchanged stunned looks. They had walked in expecting another dead end, not a teenage girl handing over hard cash and taking the heat.

Compared to a rat like Bruce, I practically had a halo over my head. "Jesus, kid. You got dealt a really bad hand by that bastard." "That Caleb punk is a piece of work.

Conning a kid out of her house? Sick." The tide shifted instantly. They pocketed the cash, their eyes softening with genuine pity.

A few even patted my shoulder, telling me to focus on surviving and not to sweat the rest of the payments right now. Small fry: handled. That just left the apex predator—Rex.

He was a loan shark. Bruce's original fifty grand had snowballed under his extortionate interest rates into a cool hundred and twenty grand.

You don't feed a shark like that; you just lose a hand trying. I didn't bother calling him. I just sat back and waited.

Sure enough, a few days later, he and his muscle pinned me against the brick wall outside my new apartment building.

This time, Caleb was nowhere to be found. "Heard you liquidated the house, little bitch. Where's the cash?" Rex blocked my path, his massive frame radiating violence.

I shrank back, letting my shoulders tremble. "The house… Caleb tricked me.

He took everything…" "Cut the bullshit!" Rex lunged, his massive fist twisting into the collar of my shirt, hoisting me onto my toes. "I did my homework.

The money's sitting in your new account!" He shoved a crumpled piece of paper into my face—a grainy security still of me opening the account at the bank. My stomach dropped.

So, Caleb really was a spineless coward. He had sold me out to save his own skin.

Then again, I had planned for that exact scenario. "I… I swear, I don't know what you're talking about," I stammered, keeping up the terrified facade. "Still playing dumb?" Rex sneered.

He ripped my phone right out of my hand and shoved the screen up to my face, trying to trigger the Face ID to unlock my digital wallet. "The cash transfer PIN is your birthday, right?

I suggest you cooperate, or things are gonna get real ugly." He pulled his free fist back, the threat hanging heavy in the air