CHAPTER 27: CALEB: THE PERFECT CRIME II

I’d kept it from Naya, of course. I’d told her nothing about it until Stephanie died. And then, when Naya had disappeared for three days unconscious in Hansel Ward’s penthouse, though I hadn’t known that at the time—I’d seen my opportunity.

My fame was fast fading because producers were asking for the impossible these days, plus, everything still came down to money. To get the best roles, you have to grease someone’s palm with cash.

Though I’d proven myself a good actor, I was still known as the poor boy. I still lived in a decent part of the city because I was repaying all the loans I’d taken to help me maintain my lifestyle.

But I’ve found that to make it up to the big leagues, you have to play their game, which means you live in their house, you shop in their malls, you eat in their restaurant, have a membership at their clubs, and that is precisely what I intend to do with Naya’s money.

The DOE Foundation fundraiser had been perfect.

Isabella and I had planned it carefully.

The confrontation, the tears, and the public humiliation were designed to make Naya so agitated that she’d storm out in anger. I’d been waiting outside with my car, ready to play the concerned ex-fiancé offering a ride home in the rain.

Things hadn’t gone exactly as planned—that business with Cahir Sterling showing up had been unexpected—but in the end, Naya had gotten into my car and signed the paper I’d given her without even reading it.

She’d been too exhausted and heartbroken to question my story about apartment lease transfers.

But that was Naya for you.

Stupid, rich girl, who has always been too trusting and would force herself to see the best in people.

What she hadn’t known was that I’d tucked a small biometric scanner under the dashboard, positioned perfectly to capture her facial profile while we talked. And the pen I’d handed her—the one she’d used to sign the fake lease document—had been specially designed to lift her fingerprints with crystal clarity.

I’d learned a lot playing detective roles over the years. Enough to know how to collect the biometric data we’d need for this scheme.

The face mask and fake hand with Naya’s fingerprints had cost me nearly fifty thousand dollars to have made at a lab in Maxford City, but it was an investment.

With twenty million dollars at stake, fifty thousand was nothing.

I clapped my hands together, breaking Isabella out of whatever anxious thoughts were circling in her head.

"Let’s go. Remember, you’re grieving your mother, you’re confused, and you’re grateful that your loving husband is here to support you through this difficult time."

Don’t worry, I wasn’t going as Caleb either. With the power of makeup, I’d been able to transform myself into a different person.

Stephanie did say the condition was that Naya must be married; she hadn’t stated that she must be married to a particular person.

"Loving husband," Isabella repeated with a small smile. "I like the sound of that."

We got out of the car and walked toward the LuxSure Insurance Company building—a massive glass and steel structure in the financial district. My heart rate picked up slightly as we approached, but I kept my expression calm.

The lobby had marble floors that reflected the morning sunlight outside, and expensive art adorned the walls.

Only the ’1%’ of Luxford city used this particular insurance company

"Can I help you?" The receptionist looked up from her computer as we approached her, flashing us a professional smile.

"We’re here about a life insurance claim," I said smoothly. "For Stephanie Rivers. This is her daughter, Naya Rivers-Moore, and I’m her husband, Caleb Moore."

My decision to use my name had come after nights of countless thoughts.

What if Stephanie had somehow mentioned the person marrying her daughter was a Caleb Moore?

Though only a few people from the acting academy knew back then that Naya and I actually dated, I still didn’t want to take chances.

And Caleb was a popular name in Luxford city, plus anyone could actually have the same surname as the famous Caleb Moore, right?

The receptionist’s expression softened immediately as she gave Isabella a sympathetic look. "Oh, I’m so sorry for your loss. Let me get someone from claims to help you. If you’ll have a seat?"

We sat in the waiting area, and I felt Isabella’s hand trembling in mine. I squeezed comfortingly, pressing a kiss on the back of her hand, assuring her that everything would be fine.

"Mr and Mrs Moore?"

A woman in her forties approached us, carrying a tablet and wearing a kind smile.

"I’m Patricia Logo, senior claims adjuster. If you’ll follow me, we can get started on the paperwork."

She led us to a private office, gesturing for us to sit in the chairs across from her desk. The room was small and windowless, making me feel slightly claustrophobic, but I kept my expression neutral.

"First, I need to verify some basic information," Patricia said, pulling up something on her tablet. "Can you state your full legal name for the record?"

Isabella cleared her throat. When she spoke, her voice was soft and uncertain, exactly the way Naya’s had sounded when she was upset. "Naya Rivers-Moore."

"And your relationship to the deceased?"

"She was my mother." Isabella’s voice cracked perfectly on the last word, and I saw Patricia’s expression soften even more.

"I’m so sorry, dear. I know this is difficult." Patricia typed something on her tablet. "And Mr Moore, you’re the spouse?"

"Yes. We’ve been married for..." I paused, pretending to think. "Just eight months now. We had a small ceremony right before Stephanie passed."

Technically true, if you substituted Isabella for Naya.

"That’s good," Patricia nodded. "Now, I want to ask a few questions to Mrs Moore since it’s her mother."

Isabella shifted in her seat. "Okay..."

I squeezed her hand and murmured. "It’s okay, baby."

Patricia glanced up.

"We just need to verify relationships and intent before we can process the release of the insurance funds, plus Mrs Rivers was our good customer and has saved quite a lot with us, and she gave a lot of instructions, so I apologise if this reopens closed wounds. If you want, I can give you a few minutes to freshen up at the bar; we have a certain form of relaxation that would help you through the process."

Isabella took a deep breath and shook her head. "Thank you, but I prefer we go through it once and for all. I’ll manage."