Chapter 3 - The Dead Man's Signature
The signature belonged to my father.
I hadn't seen it in eleven years, not since the funeral that ended with my mother locking herself in her bedroom and refusing to speak about his final days.
Ethan seized the document from Arthur.
“This proves nothing. Anyone could have copied an old signature.”
“Correct,” I said.
My voice was quiet, but the room fell silent.
“Which is why the forensic team is examining the original digital records.”
Ethan stared at me as if he had never heard me speak before.
Perhaps he hadn't. During our marriage, I had learned that silence made him careless, while disagreement made him cruel.
Vanessa recovered first.
“This is ridiculous. Ethan has worked harder than anyone here. He deserves that promotion.”
“Then why did your personal account receive $640,000 from one of the disputed transfers?” Arthur asked.
Her mouth fell open.
Ethan spun toward her.
“What account?”
Vanessa shook her head rapidly. “It's a reimbursement account. You approved it!”
“I never approved anything!”
The accusation escaped before he realized what he had admitted.
A dozen phones rose around the ballroom.
I watched the carefully manufactured image of my husband begin to crumble in real time.
Then a woman in a navy suit approached me from the side entrance. She was my private attorney, Margaret Shaw, and she carried a slim black folder I had asked her to retrieve earlier.
“Claire,” she murmured, “we have a problem.”
“Another transfer?”
“Worse. The person who accessed your trust records also requested a certified copy of your mother's original will.”
My stomach tightened.
“That will is sealed.”
“Not anymore.”
She opened the folder and showed me a document bearing a court stamp.
A request had been filed that morning to challenge my ownership of the controlling shares.
The petitioner was not Ethan.
May you like
It was my younger half brother, Daniel.
And attached to his petition was a handwritten letter from my mother claiming she had never wanted me to inherit the company.
