Chapter 2 - THE SIGNATURE HE NEVER WROTE
Vanessa said it was only a draft.
Grant said drafts do not usually contain notarized signatures.
That shut the room up again.
Celeste tried to pull Vanessa away from the center of the ballroom.
“Enough.”
Grant stepped back.
“No. I’ve heard ‘enough’ every time I asked a question for eight months.”
I moved closer.
“What exactly does the agreement say?”
Grant swallowed.
“That after marriage, I transfer certain assets into a new family holding company.”
“Which assets?”
“My house.”
My stomach dropped.
The house Grant had owned since before he met Vanessa.
Purchased partly with money his father left him.
“What else?”
“My interest in Graham Toolworks.”
That was worse.
Graham Toolworks was the manufacturing company my late husband and I built over thirty years.
When my husband died, I kept fifty-one percent.
Grant owned twenty-four.
The remaining shares were held by a management trust.
Those shares were not wedding decorations.
They represented hundreds of employees.
Vanessa stepped forward.
“Grant, we talked about combining our lives.”
“We talked about a joint savings account.”
“This is just planning.”
“Then why is my signature already on it?”
She had no answer.
Celeste did.
“Perhaps the attorney prepared an execution copy.”
Grant stared.
“My forged signature was notarized.”
Celeste’s face tightened.
“Watch your language.”
“What language would you prefer?”
I looked at the document.
The notary name was familiar.
Margaret Sloan.
One of Celeste’s closest friends.
I had seen her at bridal showers.
Christmas parties.
Fundraisers.
She was sitting ten tables away.
And suddenly, she was gone.
Her chair sat empty.
I looked toward the ballroom doors.
Someone had left quickly.
Grant saw it too.
Then Vanessa started crying.
Not quietly.
Dramatically.
“This was supposed to be the happiest day of my life.”
Grant almost smiled.
“Interesting choice of sentence.”
Her tears stopped.
He continued.
“My mother spent thirty-eight hundred dollars replacing a dress because you wanted to make sure everyone knew she wasn’t part of your family.”
“That’s not fair.”
“You forged a document transferring my house and company shares.”
“I did not forge anything!”
“Then who did?”
Silence.
Melissa walked toward us.
Vanessa’s cousin looked terrified.
“I found the agreement on Aunt Celeste’s laptop.”
Celeste turned.
“You had no right!”
Melissa flinched.
Grant stepped between them.
“When?”
“Yesterday.”
She explained that Celeste had asked her to print seating-chart revisions.
While searching the downloads folder, Melissa saw Grant’s name.
She opened the agreement.
Then found email threads between Celeste, Vanessa, and an attorney named Dennis Burke.
I knew that name too.
He represented a private investment group that had tried to buy Graham Toolworks two years earlier.
I refused.
“Why would Burke care about Grant’s shares?” I asked.
Grant looked at me.
“That’s the part I haven’t told you.”
My stomach tightened.
“What?”
He handed me another email.
Dennis Burke to Vanessa:
Once Grant’s twenty-four percent is transferred into the new entity, Celeste’s investors can combine it with the option agreement and force Joan into negotiations.
I looked at Grant.
“What option agreement?”
His face went pale.
“Mom, I think they’re trying to sell Dad’s company.”
The ballroom suddenly felt too small.
Then Melissa whispered:
“There’s more.”
She showed us another message.
Celeste had written it that morning.
MAKE SURE THE LICENSE IS FILED BEFORE HE SEES ANYTHING.
Grant stared at Vanessa.
May you like
The wedding wasn’t just romantic.
Somebody needed the marriage completed before my son discovered the paperwork.
