Chapter 5: The Signature That Wasn't Mine
My father put the call on speaker.
"Martin, explain exactly what you mean.""
The attorney sighed.
"Vanessa submitted an application to transfer the property into a new family trust. She attached a document claiming that Olivia had consented to the arrangement.""
My heart stopped.
"That's impossible," I said.
Dad looked at me.
"What document?""
Martin continued.
"A signed authorization. It supposedly carries Olivia's signature.""
I stood.
"I never signed anything!""
"I know," Dad replied.
Then he spoke into the phone.
"Martin, freeze the application immediately.""
"That's why I'm calling. There's a complication.""
"What complication?""
"The authorization was notarized.""
I felt cold.
"Notarized?""
"Yes," Martin said.
"A local notary confirmed the signature.""
Dad paced across my bedroom.
"Who was the notary?""
"Someone named Patricia Moore.""
Dad stopped.
"Patricia?""
"Do you know her?""
"She's Vanessa's friend.""
There was a long silence.
Then Martin said, "Daniel, this is potentially serious. If the documents are fraudulent, we need to act before the transfer proceeds.""
Dad looked at me.
"Can you send me copies?""
"I already have.""
"Send everything.""
The call ended.
My father lowered his phone.
I stood near the window, trying to understand what had happened.
Vanessa hadn't simply threatened to take my house.
She had already begun the process.
And she had forged my signature.
"Why would she do this?"" I whispered.
Dad sat down.
"I don't know.""
"Yes, you do.""
He looked up.
I walked toward him.
"She knows I'm turning eighteen. She knows the trust will transfer to me. She wants the house before that happens.""
Dad didn't deny it.
I swallowed.
"How much money is the house worth?""
"That's not important.""
"How much?""
He hesitated.
"Approximately four million dollars.""
I stared at him.
Four million.
That was why Vanessa had suddenly become interested in the property.
That was why she wanted me sent away.
That was why she had been so desperate to get the folder.
But there was something else.
"Does she have debts?""
My father looked surprised.
"Why?""
"Because people don't risk prison for no reason.""
He didn't answer immediately.
Then he reached into his jacket and pulled out his phone.
"I'll make a few calls.""
He stood.
At the door, he turned around.
"Olivia?""
"Yes?""
"Don't go anywhere alone tomorrow.""
I frowned.
"Why?""
"Until I know what's happening, I want you to be careful.""
He left.
I closed the door.
For the first time, I felt that Dad was finally beginning to understand how dangerous Vanessa could be.
But I also knew something else.
He had spent three years trusting her.
One conversation wouldn't erase that.
The following morning, I came downstairs at 8:00 a.m.
Vanessa was seated at the breakfast table, wearing a navy dress and diamond earrings.
She was speaking on the phone.
"Yes, I understand. Just give me until Monday.""
She noticed me.
Her voice immediately changed.
"I'll call you back.""
She ended the call.
"Good morning, Olivia.""
I walked toward the refrigerator.
"Morning.""
"Your father left early.""
I poured myself a glass of orange juice.
"Okay.""
"He's meeting with Martin Hale.""
I looked at her.
"How do you know?""
She smiled.
"Because I live in this house.""
I took a sip.
"Then you know he's investigating the forged authorization.""
Her hand stopped halfway to her coffee cup.
For one second, she didn't move.
Then she laughed.
"Forged?""
"Yes.""
"That's an ugly accusation.""
"Did you sign my name?""
She put down the cup.
"You're becoming obsessed with this.""
"Did you?""
Vanessa leaned back.
"Your father and I have always handled complicated family matters together.""
"That wasn't my question.""
Her smile disappeared.
"Your mother should never have placed so much responsibility on a child.""
"My mother trusted me.""
"Your mother trusted nobody.""
I stared at her.
Vanessa picked up her phone.
"She made your father feel guilty about everything. Even while she was dying, she was worried about what would happen to her precious little daughter.""
I stepped closer.
"Don't talk about her.""
"Why? Because the truth hurts?""
I clenched my jaw.
Vanessa smiled.
"Your mother knew your father loved her. But she also knew he had a life after her.""
"Stop.""
"She couldn't accept that another woman might become important to him.""
"Stop talking.""
Vanessa took another sip of coffee.
"Perhaps that's why she made all those ridiculous arrangements.""
I felt something inside me break.
"My mother didn't make them because she hated you. She made them because she knew you were capable of stealing from me.""
Vanessa slammed her cup onto the table.
"Enough!""
Coffee spilled across the white tablecloth.
She stood.
"Do you think those documents make you untouchable?""
"No.""
"Good. Because they don't.""
She walked toward me.
"You have no idea what your father owes me.""
I frowned.
"What?""
She laughed bitterly.
"Ask him how much money he borrowed when his company was about to collapse.""
I stared at her.
"What does that have to do with the house?""
"Everything.""
She picked up her purse.
"Your father had nothing three years ago. His business was drowning. He was about to lose everything.""
"That's not true.""
"Oh, sweetheart. You really believe the company survived because of his brilliant management?""
My stomach tightened.
"How much?""
Vanessa smiled.
"Enough.""
She headed toward the hallway.
Then she turned.
"Your mother left you a house. I helped your father keep an entire company.""
I looked at her.
"And now you want both.""
Her expression went cold.
"Be careful what you say next.""
She left.
I remained in the kitchen.
Her words kept repeating in my mind.
Your father had nothing.
The company was drowning.
He owed her money.
Was that why he had married her?
I couldn't imagine it.
But I remembered something from three years earlier.
The night Dad introduced Vanessa to me.
He had been unusually nervous.
He told me that she had helped him through a difficult period.
I had assumed he meant emotionally.
Now I wasn't sure.
At 11:30 a.m., Mrs. Collins called.
"Olivia, are you alone?""
"Yes.""
"Good. I need to tell you something.""
Her voice sounded frightened.
"What's wrong?""
"I found the envelope your mother left behind.""
I stood.
"You did?""
"Not the one from the desk. Another one.""
"Where?""
"In the pocket of an old coat I took home when I left.""
I gripped the phone.
"What's inside?""
"Bank statements. A letter. And a photograph.""
"Can you bring them?""
"I can meet you at the public library.""
I hesitated.
"Why not here?""
"Because Vanessa has been asking questions about me.""
My stomach tightened.
"All right. When?""
"One o'clock.""
"I'll be there.""
Before ending the call, Mrs. Collins whispered:
"Olivia, there's something about your father's business you need to understand.""
"What?""
"Your mother didn't just protect the house.""
I held my breath.
"She protected your father's company, too.""
I closed my eyes.
"What do you mean?""
"I can't explain over the phone. Just come to the library.""
At one o'clock, I sat across from Mrs. Collins at a small table near the back of the library.
She looked exhausted.
Her gray hair was tucked beneath a blue scarf, and her hands trembled as she placed a brown envelope on the table.
"I wasn't sure I should give you this," she said.
"Why?""
"Because your mother made me promise to wait until you were old enough.""
"I'm almost eighteen.""
"I know.""
She pushed the envelope toward me.
I opened it.
Inside were three bank statements, a photograph, and a handwritten letter.
The photograph showed my mother standing beside my grandfather.
This time, another man stood beside them.
My father.
He looked younger.
His arm was around my mother's waist.
On the back, my mother had written:
The three people who built your future.
I looked at the bank statements.
The first showed a transfer of two million dollars from the Bennett Family Trust to a company called Bennett Holdings.
The date was three years earlier.
A second transfer showed another amount.
Then another.
I looked up.
"Why was my trust paying Dad's company?""
Mrs. Collins folded her hands.
"Because your mother wanted to save it.""
I stared at the figures.
"How much money?""
"Your mother invested nearly six million dollars over several years.""
"Six million?""
She nodded.
"Your grandfather had left her a substantial inheritance. She used part of it to help your father build his business.""
I looked at the photograph again.
"Why didn't Dad tell me?""
Mrs. Collins lowered her eyes.
"Because he believed he had paid everything back.""
"Did he?""
She hesitated.
"Not all of it.""
My throat tightened.
"What happened to the rest?""
Mrs. Collins pointed toward the final statement.
I read the account details.
Then I noticed a name.
Vanessa Bennett.
The money had been transferred into a private account bearing her name.
My hands began to shake.
"Why?""
Mrs. Collins looked directly at me.
"Because your mother discovered that Vanessa had been moving money out of the company before she died.""
I felt dizzy.
"How?""
"Your mother was reviewing the trust accounts when she found several unauthorized transfers.""
"Did Dad know?""
"I don't think so.""
"Then why didn't Mom tell him?""
Mrs. Collins reached into her handbag and removed another folded paper.
"She tried.""
I opened it.
It was a copy of an email.
The sender was my mother.
The recipient was my father.
The subject line read:
*We need to talk about Vanessa.*
I read the first paragraph.
Daniel, I have found transfers from the company account that I cannot explain. They appear to be connected to Vanessa's personal accounts. Please do not confront her until we understand what is happening.
The email ended with one sentence.
I am afraid she knows I have found them.
I stared at Mrs. Collins.
"Did Mom die before she could tell him?""
Mrs. Collins didn't answer.
Instead, she took my hand.
"Your mother was planning to meet an attorney the week she died.""
I looked down at the photograph.
"What attorney?""
"Martin Hale.""
My heart skipped.
The same man who was helping Dad now.
"Why?""
"She wanted to change the trusteeship and make sure the company could never be used to take your inheritance.""
I stared at the papers.
Then I noticed the date on the email.
It was sent two days before my mother's death.
Two days.
I felt sick.
"Did she have an accident?""
Mrs. Collins looked around the library.
Then she leaned closer.
"Olivia, I don't know what happened that night.""
My fingers tightened around the paper.
"But?""
"But your mother called me shortly before she died.""
"What did she say?""
Mrs. Collins began to cry.
"She told me to come to the house immediately. She said she had found something in Vanessa's office.""
"What?""
"I never found out.""
"Why?""
"Because when I arrived, your mother was already gone.""
I couldn't speak.
Mrs. Collins wiped her eyes.
"Your father told everyone it was a sudden medical emergency. He said the doctors couldn't save her.""
I remembered that night.
The hospital corridor.
My father crying.
Vanessa holding me.
Everyone telling me that my mother had been unlucky.
I had never questioned it.
Now, I didn't know what to believe.
Mrs. Collins reached across the table.
"There's something else.""
"What?""
"Your mother left a voice recording.""
I stared at her.
"Where?""
"In a small recorder she kept in her desk. I found it after she died, but someone had removed the memory card.""
"Who?""
Mrs. Collins shook her head.
"I don't know.""
I looked at the documents.
Then at the photograph.
Then at the final bank statement.
A strange account number appeared at the bottom.
Mrs. Collins followed my gaze.
"That's the account your mother was investigating.""
"Whose account is it?""
She leaned forward.
"Your father's.""
I frowned.
"His company account?""
"No.""
She swallowed.
"His private account.""
I stared at her.
Then my phone vibrated.
A message from Dad appeared.
Olivia, come home immediately. Martin found something in the transfer application.
A second message arrived.
Do not speak to Vanessa before I get there.
Before I could reply, another message appeared.
This one was from an unknown number.
It contained a photograph of the documents spread across the library table.
Someone had been watching us.
Beneath the photograph were eight words.
Your mother didn't die from the illness.
My blood turned cold.
May you like
Then another message appeared.
Ask your father what happened that night.
