The Frozen Account

Elise went straight from the conference room to the bank branch downstairs. Martin followed her. Claire followed Martin. Adam waited until he thought no one was watching, then slipped toward the service stairs.

Theo saw him go but stayed with Elise.

"You cannot fix this at a teller window," he said.

"Watch me try."

The lobby smelled like coffee and polished stone. A teller who had known Elise since college looked at her debit card, then at the alert on her screen, and lost every bit of color in her face.

"Ms. Hart, I need my manager."

"No," Elise said. "You need to give me my balance."

The teller lowered her voice. "The system says I can't service the account."

"Because I'm dead?"

Two customers turned.

Martin stepped close enough for the cameras to catch concern. "Elise, making a scene will not help."

"It helps me understand who wants quiet."

The branch manager came out with a tablet pressed against his chest. Theo took it before the man could speak and scanned the internal alert.

"This came through compliance, not probate," Theo said.

The manager swallowed. "I was instructed to refer all questions to legal."

"Whose legal?" Elise asked.

He looked at Martin.

There it was, small and ugly and public.

Claire touched Elise's arm. "Come upstairs. We can handle this as a family."

Elise pulled away. "A family didn't file me dead before lunch."

Claire's eyes flashed with real fear, not performance. "You do not know what you are walking into."

"Then tell me."

Martin answered for her. "Your mother left a mess. A dangerous one. If you are smart, you will let me clean it before it ruins all of us."

"All of us," Elise said. "Or you?"

His expression did not change. That made it worse.

Elise's phone vibrated. Unknown number. A photo appeared in the message window.

It showed a covered body on a hospice bed. A hospital bracelet circled one pale wrist.

The name on the bracelet was Elise Hart.

The next message came before she breathed.

Stop proving you are alive.