Chapter 2 - THE SIGNATURE INSIDE THE DEATH FILE
Nathaniel asked me to take the children somewhere safe.
I refused to leave until I understood what Colin had done.
The security officers remained between us as Nathaniel opened a leather folder on the hood of his car.
Inside was a copy of an electronic transfer authorization.
The request instructed Florence’s bank to move three million dollars into an account controlled by Dorsey Consulting Group.
My name appeared beneath the transaction.
The signature looked almost perfect.
Almost.
Whoever created it had copied the slant of my handwriting but missed the way I crossed the letter A.
“I didn’t sign this.”
“We know,” Nathaniel said.
Colin folded his arms.
“Then why are you looking at me?”
“Because the request originated from your office network.”
“That proves nothing.”
Nathaniel placed another page beside it.
The transfer contained a verification code sent to Florence’s private phone.
That phone had been inside her hospital room.
Access logs showed the code was forwarded to Sloane’s number.
Sloane stared at Colin.
“You said the phone belonged to Audrey.”
“You knew it was Florence’s,” he replied.
“No. You told me Audrey asked us to handle an emergency transfer.”
I watched them turn against each other in seconds.
Neither seemed horrified by the theft.
They were horrified that the evidence might assign more guilt to one than the other.
Nathaniel continued.
“Florence regained consciousness briefly before she died. She saw the transfer request and canceled it.”
My throat tightened.
My aunt had spent her final conscious minutes stopping my husband from stealing my inheritance.
“Why didn’t anyone tell me?”
“She asked us not to contact you until the estate protection audit was complete.”
“Why?”
Nathaniel looked at Colin.
“Because she believed someone inside your marriage was monitoring your communications.”
Colin laughed harshly.
“This is absurd.”
Nathaniel removed a handwritten note.
Florence’s writing was weak but recognizable.
AUDREY MUST NOT KNOW UNTIL EVERY DOOR IS CLOSED.
COLIN HAS BEEN ASKING ABOUT THE TOWER.
I looked at my husband.
“You knew about the Manhattan building.”
He said nothing.
“How?”
Florence had never discussed the details of her estate with me.
She rarely spoke about money at all.
She lived simply and allowed everyone to believe she owned only a small apartment and a few investments.
Colin stepped toward Nathaniel.
“I handled financial planning for the family.”
“You were never Florence’s adviser,” Nathaniel replied.
“She asked questions.”
“She reported that you pressured her repeatedly to make you executor.”
Sloane’s eyes widened.
“You told me you already controlled the estate.”
Colin turned on her.
“Stop talking.”
That command had worked on me for years.
Apparently, he expected it to work on her too.
It did not.
“You said Audrey would receive a small cash payment and the tower would go into a management company.”
Maisie and Theo sat inside the car with the doors locked.
They could not hear everything.
Still, I wanted the argument ended before they witnessed more.
I faced Colin.
“Take your belongings and leave.”
He pointed toward the house.
“My office is inside. Company records are inside.”
Nathaniel answered before I could.
“The court order allows supervised retrieval of personal clothing and medication only. Financial records remain secured pending investigation.”
Colin’s anger sharpened.
“You cannot seize my company.”
“No one seized it,” Nathaniel said. “Your own filings listed this house as a corporate records location. That created preservation obligations.”
Again, Colin’s manipulation had trapped him.
He wanted the house associated with his company when it benefited him.
Now that connection allowed investigators to secure the evidence.
Sloane removed my scarf and dropped it onto the driveway.
“This is between you and Colin.”
“No,” I said. “You stood on my porch and ordered me out while wearing something stolen from my bedroom.”
“He gave it to me.”
“You knew it was mine.”
She looked away.
Nathaniel’s phone rang.
He listened for less than a minute.
Then his expression changed.
“What happened?” I asked.
“Florence’s hospital records were accessed last night.”
“By whom?”
“The account belongs to Dr. Ethan Keating.”
Sloane’s father.
She turned white.
“My father is retired.”
“He still serves on the hospital foundation board,” Nathaniel said.
Colin looked at her.
“You told me those records were deleted.”
The driveway went completely silent.
Sloane stared at him with open panic.
Nathaniel signaled one of the security officers.
“What records?” I asked.
Neither answered.
I stepped closer to Colin.
“What was in Florence’s hospital file?”
He looked toward the road as if considering escape.
The officer blocked him.
Finally, Sloane spoke.
“A second will.”
Nathaniel frowned.
“There is no second will.”
“There was,” she said. “Florence signed it three weeks before she died.”
Colin shouted, “She was confused.”
“What did it say?” I demanded.
Sloane began crying.
The tears arrived too late to feel sincere.
“Florence left instructions regarding the tower. She said it was not simply a commercial property.”
“What is it?”
“A holding structure.”
Nathaniel’s gaze sharpened.
“For what assets?”
Sloane shook her head.
“I never saw the full schedule.”
Colin did.
I could see it in his face.
The Manhattan tower housed hundreds of businesses, but Florence apparently used it to conceal ownership of something larger.
“What did Florence own?” I asked him.
He answered quietly.
“Voting shares.”
“In what?”
“Dorsey Consulting.”
For a moment, I thought I misunderstood.
Colin created the company.
He controlled it.
At least, that was what he told everyone.
Nathaniel opened his tablet and searched corporate records.
The original seed funding for Dorsey Consulting came from a venture trust linked to Florence.
She had financed Colin’s company secretly twelve years earlier.
Through preferred voting shares, she retained ultimate control.
Upon her death, those shares transferred to me.
Colin’s business—the company he used to justify neglecting our children, belittling my work, and sleeping with Sloane—belonged primarily to my inheritance trust.
“How much?” I asked.
Nathaniel read the ownership schedule.
“Seventy-two percent voting control.”
Sloane stepped away from Colin.
“You said you owned everything.”
“I ran it.”
“You told me Audrey would receive nothing.”
Colin turned toward me with sudden desperation.
“We can fix this.”
“We?”
“The divorce was rushed. Sloane pressured me.”
She slapped him.
The sound echoed across the driveway.
He looked stunned.
Then my phone rang.
The caller was Maisie’s summer camp director.
She sounded frightened.
“Audrey, I need to ask you something. Did Colin authorize someone to remove copies of your children’s medical files?”
My blood went cold.
“No.”
“A woman from Dorsey Consulting collected them yesterday. She had signed permission.”
“Whose signature?”
“Yours.”
Another forgery.
But this one had nothing to do with property.
“What files did she take?”
“Everything. Birth records, allergy forms, psychological assessments.”
I looked at Sloane.
She stopped crying.
Colin’s face changed.
He knew exactly why someone wanted my children’s records.
Nathaniel asked the question I could not.
May you like
“What were you planning to do with Maisie and Theo?”
Colin whispered, “It was only supposed to be temporary.”
