Chapter 10 - The SignatureFor three seconds, I couldn't speak.
Marcus's signature sat at the bottom of the page.
Neat.
Familiar.
Real.
I had watched that hand write thousands of things over the years.
School forms.
Work applications.
Birthday cards.
Now it was transferring authority over my family's financial structure to Renata.
"He's betrayed us."
Raymond shook his head.
"Don't decide that yet."
"What else could this mean?"
"Coercion."
"You think Renata forced him?"
"I think we need evidence."
I picked up the document.
There was something wrong.
The ink looked too dark.
The signature too clean.
"Raymond."
"Yes?"
"Look at the date."
"I see it."
"No."
I pointed.
"The date uses the old format."
He frowned.
"MM/DD/YYYY."
"Marcus stopped using that three years ago."
Raymond looked up.
"You're right."
That meant the signature might have been copied from an old document.
We took the file.
By morning, a forensic document examiner had reviewed the signature.
The result came quickly.
"Copied."
I exhaled.
"So Marcus didn't sign it."
"No."
"Then Renata forged it."
"Probably."
But probably wasn't enough.
We needed proof.
At 8:30 a.m., Raymond filed an emergency legal challenge.
At 9:15, Renata arrived at my cottage.
She knocked this time.
I almost laughed.
"What do you want?"
She held a folder.
"A peaceful resolution."
"You forged my son's signature."
Her face didn't move.
"You can't prove that."
"That's what lawyers are for."
She smiled.
"Then let's talk about lawyers."
She handed me a letter.
It was from a firm representing Renata.
They claimed I had violated an informal family arrangement.
They demanded immediate access to the cottage.
They demanded financial records.
And they threatened legal action for "elder abuse."
I read it.
Then looked up.
"You're accusing me of abusing you?"
She folded her arms.
"You're refusing to cooperate."
"I'm sixty-three."
"You've become aggressive."
"I'm standing in my own doorway."
"That's exactly what I mean."
I laughed.
"You really believe this works."
"It doesn't have to work forever."
She stepped closer.
"It only has to work once."
I understood.
One court hearing.
One emergency ruling.
One temporary order.
That was all she needed.
Then she could control access to the cottage.
The financial accounts.
The trust.
Everything.
I leaned toward her.
"You're afraid."
She smiled.
"No."
"Then why are you rushing?"
Her eyes hardened.
"Because you're running out of time."
"What happens after forty-eight hours?"
She smiled.
"You'll find out."
She walked away.
But I noticed something.
Her hands were shaking.
That mattered.
Back inside, Raymond placed the forged document beside Patricia's trust.
"She needs control before the financial review."
"Why?"
"Because once the review starts, she'll lose access."
"How long?"
"Three days."
I looked at him.
"Then we have three days."
At noon, Marcus called.
"Dad."
"Where are you?"
"Somewhere safe."
"We found the forged signature."
Silence.
"I didn't sign anything."
"I know."
"She made me."
I stopped.
"Where are you?"
"I can't tell you."
"Marcus."
"Listen."
His voice shook.
"Renata has someone watching you."
"Who?"
"I don't know."
"Why?"
"Because she thinks you have the original records."
"I do."
"No."
"What?"
"Those aren't the records she wants."
I frowned.
"What does she want?"
"My grandfather's ledger."
I remembered the ledger in the basement.
"What about it?"
"There's a page missing."
I looked at Raymond.
His face changed.
"Where is the missing page?"
"I don't know."
"Who has it?"
"I think Renata."
"Why would she want one page?"
Marcus whispered:
"Because that page has the account number."
"Which account?"
"The first one."
I felt my stomach drop.
"The Northstar account?"
"No."
He paused.
"The account that received the money after Northstar disappeared."
"How much?"
Marcus inhaled.
"Four million."
The same four million Daniel had mentioned.
"The money your family stole?"
"No."
"What, then?"
Marcus whispered:
"The money my grandfather stole from everyone else."
Then the line went dead.
I looked at Raymond.
"What the hell does that mean?"
He didn't answer.
Instead, he picked up the old ledger.
He flipped through the pages.
Then he stopped.
"You're right."
"What?"
"There is a missing page."
He looked at me.
"And the page number is 47."
"Why does that matter?"
"Because the ledger jumps from page 46 to page 48."
"Meaning?"
"The missing page was removed deliberately."
We searched Patricia's records.
Nothing.
We searched the company archives.
Nothing.
Then Raymond noticed something.
The old cottage blueprints.
Page 47 was marked with a handwritten note.
BENEATH THE THIRD BEAM.
I looked toward the ceiling.
"The cottage."
Raymond nodded.
We climbed into the attic.
There were twelve beams.
We counted.
One.
Two.
Three.
I struck the third with a hammer.
Solid.
Again.
A hollow sound.
I looked at Raymond.
He smiled.
"Open it."
We removed the beam panel.
Inside was a plastic document tube.
I pulled it out.
The tube contained a single sheet of paper.
Page 47.
The missing ledger page.
At the bottom was an account number.
Raymond typed it into his laptop.
The screen loaded.
Then froze.
His face went pale.
"What?"
He turned the laptop toward me.
The account holder wasn't Northstar.
It wasn't Hayes Holdings.
It wasn't Patricia.
It wasn't me.
The account belonged to:
May you like
Renata Hayes.
Opened fourteen years ago.
