Chapter 2 - THE THIRD SIGNATURE
Stella’s nails dug into my skin.
I pulled free and opened the door.
Agent Suarez entered first, followed by his team.
“Marco Valderama. Stella Ignacio.”
Marco backed into his suitcase.
“What is this?”
Suarez showed them the warrants.
He spoke calmly.
That made it worse.
Fraud.
Money laundering.
Identity theft.
The words stripped every trace of importance from Marco’s expensive suit.
“There’s a mistake,” he said. “Call my company.”
“They did,” I told him.
His eyes snapped toward me.
“Your company hired an outside team to investigate two million dollars missing from the Dubai branch.”
“No.”
“I was the senior forensic auditor assigned to the preliminary review.”
“You investigated me?”
“I found your name. Then I disclosed our relationship and stepped away from the company assignment.”
“You had no right.”
“The independent team checked everything.”
Stella edged toward her handbag.
An agent stopped her.
Marco didn’t notice.
He was staring at me as if I had changed into someone he had never met.
“The invoices were fake,” I said. “The vendors weren’t real. The transfers paid for your apartment, your trips, and her jewelry.”
“This is private business.”
“Then you should have kept it out of our joint account.”
That landed.
His mouth opened.
Closed.
An agent asked him to turn around.
Marco resisted just long enough for the second agent to move closer.
Then he obeyed.
Stella pressed a hand to her stomach.
“I’m pregnant. You can’t treat me like this.”
Suarez looked toward a female agent.
“Make sure any medical concerns are assessed.”
I studied Stella.
“Tell him about the clinic.”
Her expression hardened.
“Elena,” Marco said, “leave the baby out of this.”
“There isn’t a baby.”
“Stop.”
“The clinic confirmed that the letter you showed him wasn’t theirs.”
Stella said nothing.
Marco turned toward her.
“What?”
“Ask her why the patient number belongs to someone else.”
“You’re jealous,” Stella snapped.
But she wasn’t looking at me anymore.
She was looking at the front window.
Outside, a motorcycle slowed near the gate.
The rider kept his helmet on.
Suarez noticed.
One of his agents moved toward the door.
The motorcycle accelerated.
Stella’s face drained.
As they led her past me, she leaned close.
“Ask him about the third signature.”
Then she was gone.
Marco began shouting my name.
I barely heard him.
Three signatures appeared on the transfer authorization I had uncovered.
Marco’s.
May you like
A finance director’s.
And the one I had spent two months trying to prove wasn’t mine.
