Chapter 4 - THE SIGNATURE THAT WASN'T MINE
Daniel placed the document on the head table.
It was dated fourteen years earlier.
I read the first paragraph twice.
According to the paper, I had agreed to accept private monthly support from Chloe in exchange for keeping all financial arrangements outside family court.
The document claimed I received an initial payment of fifty thousand dollars.
It also stated that I had asked Chloe to stay away because her presence was “emotionally disruptive” to the girls.
My signature appeared at the bottom.
It was a good imitation.
But it wasn't mine.
“I never signed this.”
Chloe stopped crying.
Daniel turned toward her.
“You told me Luca demanded this arrangement.”
“He did.”
“No,” I said. “I didn't.”
Daniel's jaw tightened.
“For fifteen years, I believed you were paying him.”
Chloe looked at the guests.
“This is becoming ridiculous.”
Jessi stepped forward.
“Then let's make it simple.”
She placed the forged document beside the fake returned letters.
“Dad raised six girls alone.”
She pointed at Daniel.
“Daniel thought money was being sent.”
Then she looked at Chloe.
“You were the only person standing between both stories.”
Chloe grabbed her purse.
“I am not staying here for this.”
I stepped aside.
Neither Jessi nor I blocked her.
“You're free to leave,” I said.
That stopped her.
There was no fight for her to dramatize.
No cruel ex-husband trapping her.
No angry daughter preventing her escape.
Just an open door.
Chloe looked smaller suddenly.
Then Grace spoke.
“Before you go, tell us one thing.”
Chloe turned.
“Did you make the fake signature?”
“No.”
Too fast.
Daniel closed his eyes.
“Chloe.”
“I said no!”
Emma removed her phone.
“I found something else.”
She played a voicemail.
Chloe's younger voice filled the hall.
“Daniel keeps asking if Luca signed everything. I handled it. Just make sure the copy looks clean.”
A man's voice answered.
“You understand what happens if Luca ever compares signatures?”
“He won't.”
“Why are you so sure?”
Then Chloe laughed.
“Because Luca is too busy changing diapers to fight me.”
I remembered that laugh.
Once, it had filled our kitchen.
Now it sounded like it belonged to a stranger.
Daniel looked sick.
“Who is the man on the recording?”
Emma answered.
“I didn't know.”
But I did.
I had heard that voice hundreds of times growing up.
May you like
It belonged to my younger brother.
Marco.
