Chapter 4 - MY OWN HANDWRITING
“What paper?”
Fiona didn’t answer.
“Fiona.”
The call ended.
I stared at my phone.
Adrian held out his hand.
“Show me everything you signed during the last three months.”
I opened my email.
Wedding contracts.
Insurance forms.
A beneficiary update.
A thick packet George’s office had sent after Fiona and I became engaged.
He had called it routine.
“Family estate planning,” I said.
Adrian went through the pages.
He stopped at the last attachment.
A consent form.
My signature sat at the bottom.
I remembered signing it on George’s kitchen island while Fiona tasted wedding cakes beside me.
George had smiled.
“This keeps outside people from interfering with what belongs to the family.”
I had assumed he meant marriage.
Adrian read the document twice.
“This concerns the Henderson family trust.”
Dad sat down.
“I didn’t authorize that.”
“You wouldn’t have needed to,” Adrian said.
“Blake is a beneficiary.”
My throat tightened.
“What did I agree to?”
“A conversion of the trust’s design rights into shares held by a new company.”
“George’s company?”
“A subsidiary he controls.”
At the bottom was a statement confirming I’d received the schedules explaining the transaction.
“I never saw those.”
“Then we need to preserve the original email and the signing record.”
Dad looked at my signature.
I couldn’t meet his eyes.
“They used me.”
“They used your trust,” he said.
“Those aren’t the same thing.”
A knock came at the front door.
The officer was still outside.
He spoke to someone, then called Adrian over.
A courier held a sealed envelope.
Inside was a demand that Dad attend a meeting before the morning board session.
It included a settlement.
Money for withdrawing his claims.
More money for silence.
At the bottom, George had added a handwritten note.
THINK ABOUT WHAT YOUR SON WILL LOSE.
I laughed once.
It sounded ugly.
“He still thinks I’m marrying her.”
Adrian photographed every page.
Then he called the venue manager.
The manager had found the exterior footage.
A gray sedan had followed us out.
Its driver had been on the wedding vendor list.
“Name?” Adrian asked.
The answer made Dad lift his head.
Martin Keene.
George’s longtime operations director.
We had our first solid link.
Then Adrian’s laptop chimed.
A new document had been filed in the company portal.
He opened it.
Dad leaned closer.
Adrian turned the screen toward us.
The document claimed Walter Henderson had approved the entire transaction.
The signature beside his name looked perfect.
Dad stared at it.
“That’s mine.”
My stomach dropped.
May you like
He pointed to the date.
“But I didn’t sign it that day.”
