Chapter 4 - THE SIGNATURE THAT COULD BURY MEI recognized the signature immediately.
It matched mine perfectly.
The document stated that I had approved the movement of twelve million dollars from a family investment fund into Monroe Strategic Advisory.
If investigators accepted it as genuine, I would no longer be seen only as Nathan’s victim.
I would become part of his conspiracy.
“I never signed that,” I said.
Agent Sloan enlarged the document.
“The signature appears on six transfer authorizations.”
“Where did they come from?”
“Ashford Global’s legal department.”
My father stood beside the hospital window.
“Who submitted them?”
“The company’s general counsel, Martin Keene.”
I knew Martin.
He had attended our wedding.
He had toasted Nathan’s honesty in front of three hundred guests.
During the past year, he had refused to let me enter Nathan’s executive office without permission.
“Keene is on the Ivory List,” I said.
Agent Sloan looked at me.
“We found his name in a coded ledger.”
“Then he manufactured the documents.”
“Possibly.”
“Possibly isn’t enough.”
“No.”
Sloan locked the tablet.
“And until our forensic examination is complete, you should prepare for the possibility that prosecutors will question you.”
My father immediately called his legal director.
I stopped him.
“I don’t want Vale Dominion’s attorneys.”
“Madeline—”
“Nathan is already claiming you are manipulating the investigation.”
I forced myself to remain calm.
“If your lawyers surround me, it strengthens his story.”
“Then who will represent you?”
“I’ll choose someone independent.”
Agent Sloan recommended a former federal prosecutor named Jordan Mercer.
Jordan arrived that afternoon carrying one leather case and no visible concern about my father’s reputation.
She was in her early forties, with sharp eyes and a direct voice.
“I do not work for Elias Vale,” she said before sitting down.
“I do not work for Ashford Global.”
“I work for you.”
“That is exactly what I need.”
Jordan studied the transfer documents.
“Where did Nathan keep personal records?”
“In his private office.”
“Did he ever ask you to sign blank forms?”
“No.”
“Did he have access to examples of your signature?”
“Hundreds.”
“Marriage documents, property records, charity approvals, company invitations.”
“Did he have access to your digital certificate?”
I hesitated.
Three years earlier, Nathan had asked me to approve papers related to the restoration of Blackthorn Manor.
He had installed a digital signing program on my laptop.
Afterward, he insisted the program had been deleted.
“He may have copied it,” I said.
Jordan closed the file.
“Then we need the original laptop.”
“It is in my study at the manor.”
Agent Sloan called the search team.
The laptop was missing.
So were two external drives and a blue document case.
Nathan’s people had removed them before the raid.
Only a small number of individuals had known what those items contained.
One of them was my former personal assistant, Hannah Price.
Hannah had resigned six weeks earlier without explanation.
Her phone number had been disconnected.
Her apartment had been emptied.
Agent Sloan showed me a security image from the Ashford Global parking garage.
It had been captured three days before the raid.
Hannah stood beside Martin Keene.
He was handing her the blue document case.
“Find her,” I said.
“We are trying.”
Jordan leaned closer to the screen.
“Look at her left hand.”
Hannah was holding something beneath the case.
A white envelope.
A corner of a photograph was visible through the open top.
I recognized the photograph.
It had been taken at my wedding.
My father and I stood near the garden fountain.
On the back, Dad had written a private telephone number.
Hannah had not disappeared to help Nathan.
She had taken my case because she was trying to reach my father.
Then Agent Sloan’s phone rang.
She listened for several seconds.
“When?” she asked.
Her expression darkened.
She ended the call and looked at us.
“Hannah Price was found this morning.”
My stomach tightened.
“Is she alive?”
May you like
“Yes.”
“But she is refusing to speak to anyone except you.”
