Chapter 2 - THE SIGNATURE I NEVER WROTE
At nine the next morning, Vivian Cho arrived carrying a leather briefcase and the expression she usually reserved for courtroom emergencies.
I had known Vivian for fifteen years.
She didn't dramatize problems.
She solved them.
Which was why her first sentence made my stomach tighten.
"Nora, someone filed a property authorization using your name."
I stared.
"What property?"
"Whitcomb Harbor House."
My grandmother's summer estate.
The place where I'd spent childhood summers collecting seashells and listening to her tell stories beneath the hydrangeas.
The place Camden and Sloane had chosen for their wedding.
I sat slowly.
"What kind of authorization?"
Vivian opened her briefcase.
"A document appointing Camden Reed as temporary representative of the Whitcomb Preservation Trust."
I felt sick.
"I never signed that."
"I know."
She placed the document before me.
There it was.
My name.
Eleanor Whitcomb Reed.
Written in an elegant script that looked almost identical to mine.
Beside it sat the impression of the Whitcomb crest.
The hawk facing left.
Three stars.
Sine strepitu.
The stolen brass die.
I stared.
"They forged my signature."
Vivian nodded.
"The document appears fraudulent. We're taking steps to challenge it."
I looked at the filing date.
Four weeks earlier.
Two weeks after Sloane visited the library.
"What did Camden use it for?"
Vivian hesitated.
"To obtain access to Harbor House and negotiate an event contract."
I almost laughed.
"An event contract?"
"The wedding."
I looked at her.
"My husband forged my authorization to reserve my grandmother's house for his wedding to another woman?"
Vivian's expression softened.
"That's what the records suggest."
For several seconds, I couldn't speak.
Then I began laughing.
It wasn't funny.
But the sheer arrogance was unbelievable.
Camden had apparently decided that marriage meant ownership.
Ownership of my time.
My name.
My reputation.
And now my family's property.
I stopped laughing.
"What else?"
Vivian looked surprised.
"What do you mean?"
"People who forge one document usually have a reason bigger than a wedding."
She studied me.
Then opened another folder.
"You're right."
My heart sank.
"Tell me."
"Harbor House sits on seventeen acres of waterfront property."
"I know."
"A commercial developer recently offered to purchase an adjoining parcel."
I frowned.
"So?"
"That developer has been trying to acquire Harbor House as well."
I stared.
"Grandmother refused every offer."
Vivian nodded.
"But Camden appears to have reopened negotiations."
My pulse quickened.
"Without permission?"
"Yes."
I leaned forward.
"How much?"
Vivian took a breath.
"The preliminary offer is forty-eight million dollars."
For a moment, the room seemed to tilt.
Forty-eight million.
My grandmother's home.
My family's legacy.
And my husband was secretly trying to sell it.
Then Vivian turned another page.
"There's something more troubling."
I looked up.
"What?"
"The buyer is a company called Voss Coastal Development."
I felt cold.
"Sloane?"
Vivian nodded.
"The company is controlled by her father, Harrison Voss."
May you like
And suddenly, the wedding invitation looked less like a cruel joke.
It looked like the first step in a property takeover.
