Chapter 5 - The Woman Using My Identity
Brittany Shaw was found in Vancouver.
Not arrested.
Dead.
Her body was discovered in a hotel room registered under my name.
That was the moment everything became terrifying in a new way.
Until then, my identity had been used for paperwork.
Now it had been used beside a body.
Canadian police called Seattle investigators.
Maya did not let me answer anything without counsel.
Arthur looked furious.
Not at me.
At the architecture of the setup.
“They’re building Natalie into the story.”
Maya nodded.
“Financial authorization. Bank access. Hotel.”
I added,
“And cheating boyfriend.”
They looked at me.
“What?”
“If Todd suddenly appears saying I was jealous of Brittany, what does everyone see?”
Maya’s face darkened.
“A personal motive.”
Exactly.
A betrayed girlfriend.
A dead mistress.
A missing shipment.
My digital fingerprints everywhere.
I had not simply been selected as a clean identity.
I had been selected as a future defendant.
Arthur ordered independent forensic preservation of every message between us from the wrong-number text onward.
Maya approved.
“Never thought I’d say this, but thank God you accidentally texted a mobster.”
Arthur looked offended.
“Allegedly.”
I laughed despite myself.
The wrong number gave me an alibi timeline.
At 9:42, I was home.
At 10:16, Arthur’s security logged his men arriving at my building.
At 11:12, cameras showed me entering Northshore.
At the time Brittany crossed into Canada using my identity, I was surrounded by witnesses.
Whoever framed me had not expected Arthur Rossi to become my accidental timestamp.
Todd still had not appeared.
Then he emailed me.
Subject:
I’m sorry.
Maya traced nothing useful.
Message:
Natalie, I did things I can’t explain by email. Brittany is dead because she tried to leave. Daniel will kill me too. Do not trust Arthur. The shipment isn’t what he says. Ask him about MIRROR BAY.
I showed Arthur.
He stopped.
That was enough to prove Mirror Bay meant something.
“What is it?”
He looked toward Maya.
She said,
“Now would be a good time not to do the mysterious criminal silence.”
Arthur sighed.
“Mirror Bay was a salvage operation my father ran.”
“When?”
“Fifteen years ago.”
Daniel Mercer era.
The operation recovered cargo from vessels that insurers had written off.
Sometimes legitimately.
Sometimes not.
Matteo discovered someone was using salvage claims to duplicate high-value shipments.
One real container.
One fake loss claim.
Two sets of money.
“Insurance fraud?”
“Large-scale.”
“Marina?”
“We thought a port contractor.”
“But now?”
Arthur rubbed his jaw.
“Marina managed salvage accounting.”
There it was.
Mirror Bay could have funded millions off books.
Maybe billions over years.
Matteo investigated.
Daniel helped.
Then both disappeared from normal life.
Todd’s email continued.
The processors contain archived route data. That is why Marina wants them.
That made no sense.
New processors should not contain old data.
Arthur called Haesung Navigation.
The manufacturer confirmed something strange.
The shipment contained prototype processors using machine-learning models trained partly on historical maritime datasets supplied by Rossi Maritime.
Datasets dating back fifteen years.
Mirror Bay routes.
Old ship movements.
Container transfers.
Everything.
If forensic analysts extracted the underlying training data, they might reconstruct hidden routes Marina believed long erased.
The shipment itself was evidence.
That was why she paid for it.
Not to use the technology.
To destroy what it accidentally remembered.
My uncle Daniel apparently knew.
So did Todd.
Brittany tried to leave after the operation succeeded.
Now she was dead.
I asked,
“Was she killed because she wanted out?”
Maya said,
“Likely.”
Arthur looked at me.
“And because she knew Natalie’s identity was fabricated into everything.”
A witness.
Removed.
Then investigators recovered security footage from Brittany’s hotel.
The woman checking in under my name wore a dark wig.
But she was not Brittany.
Different height.
Different posture.
She had used another deepfake facial verification.
“Who is she?” I asked.
No answer.
Then hotel lobby footage gave us a clean side angle.
Arthur froze.
“What?”
He enlarged the image.
A woman in her late fifties.
Dark hair streaked with silver.
Elegant coat.
Marina Rossi.
Arthur’s aunt had personally used my identity.
That was almost insulting.
“You need better cheekbones to be me,” I said.
Maya looked at me.
“Focus.”
“Coping mechanism.”
Arthur almost smiled.
Marina had entered Brittany’s hotel at 6:13 p.m.
Left at 6:52.
Brittany’s estimated time of death fell within that window.
Arthur sat down slowly.
“My aunt killed her.”
“We don’t know that yet,” Maya said.
Arthur looked at her.
“She was in the room.”
“We prove things here.”
He nodded.
That mattered too.
Then a call came from CBP.
The missing container had surfaced.
Not in Washington.
In Alaska.
Port of Dutch Harbor.
A shipping line reported a container with matching seal fragments loaded onto a vessel bound for Japan.
But when authorities opened it—
Empty.
The processors were gone.
Inside was one object.
A VHS cassette.
My grandmother’s tape.
Marina had put it in the container.
Why?
Arthur had an answer.
“She wants us to watch it.”
The tape was flown back under federal control.
Digitized.
Maya, Arthur, investigators and I watched.
Static.
Then my grandmother’s living room.
2009.
Eleanor Mercer sat off-camera.
A young Matteo Rossi faced the camcorder.
Arthur stopped breathing.
I recognized him from photographs.
He looked like Arthur, but warmer.
More restless.
Matteo said:
“My name is Matteo Rossi. If you are watching this, something happened to me.”
Arthur closed his eyes.
The recording continued.
“Daniel Mercer brought me evidence that Mirror Bay is being run by Marina Rossi.”
Arthur’s face went blank.
Matteo named accounts.
Ships.
Insurance companies.
Then:
“My father does not know.”
Arthur looked down.
Marco Rossi innocent of Mirror Bay.
At least according to Matteo.
Then Matteo said something none of us expected.
“Daniel isn’t helping me for money.”
Pause.
“He is helping because Marina has his daughter.”
I stopped.
“My uncle doesn’t have a daughter.”
Maya looked at me.
Arthur looked at me.
On the video, Matteo continued.
“Daniel says Marina took the child after her mother died and has used her identity as leverage for years.”
My throat tightened.
“Who?”
The tape glitched.
Static.
Then Matteo said a name.
May you like
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“Natalie.”
Everything inside me stopped.
