Chapter 2 - The Woman Who Forged My Name
At nine the next morning, I met my attorney, Daniel Mercer.
He had represented my mother for years, but after she died, Vivian quietly replaced him as company counsel.
I had not spoken to Daniel in almost six years.
When he saw the bruises on my face, his expression changed immediately.
“Emma,” he said, “what happened?”
“My husband happened.”
He did not ask for details first.
He called a doctor.
Then he called a forensic team.
Only after the photographs were taken, the medical report was completed, and the security footage from Nathan’s jewelry store was legally preserved did we sit down in Daniel’s office.
I placed my mother’s letter on the desk.
Then I showed him the forged transfer document.
Daniel read it slowly.
His face became grave.
“This is not only fraud,” he said. “This is an attempted corporate takeover.”
“Can we stop it?”
“Yes,” he replied. “But we need proof before Friday.”
“What happens Friday?”
Daniel opened the trust documents.
“On your twenty-ninth birthday, your mother’s protected shares transfer directly to you. That will give you fifty-one percent voting control of Vale Holdings.”
“And if Nathan has my shares?”
“Then he could claim effective control before the transfer is fully processed.”
I looked at the paperwork.
“So Nathan needed my signature.”
“Or something that looked like your signature.”
Daniel leaned forward.
“Emma, there’s another concern. The forged document was notarized by someone within the Vale family office.”
“Who?”
“We do not know yet.”
But I did.
Celeste had once worked in that office.
She knew the notary.
She knew where my mother kept old legal files.
She knew exactly how to copy my signature.
And she knew what would happen on Friday.
I called Nathan that afternoon.
He answered immediately.
“Emma. Thank God.”
His voice sounded desperate.
“I’ve been calling you all night.”
“I know.”
“Please come home. We need to talk.”
“Not at home,” I said. “Meet me at the old gallery on West Forty-Seventh.”
He hesitated.
“Why?”
“Because I found something that concerns both of us.”
That was enough to make him agree.
Nathan arrived twenty minutes late.
He wore a dark suit and looked exhausted. There was a faint cut near his eyebrow, probably from kneeling too close to the broken glass counter the night before.
He approached me carefully.
“I am sorry,” he said.
“Are you sorry you hit me?”
“Yes.”
“Or are you sorry I saw the documents?”
His face went still.
I watched the answer move through his eyes before he said a word.
“Emma, I don’t know what Vivian has been telling you—”
“You knew about the transfer.”
“No.”
“You knew about the trust.”
“No.”
“You knew Celeste worked for my mother.”
He looked away.
That was enough.
“Tell me the truth,” I said.
Nathan’s shoulders dropped.
“Vivian came to me last year.”
The gallery around us seemed to disappear.
“What did she say?”
“She said you were never interested in Vale Holdings. She said you wanted a simple life, but your mother forced responsibility on you.”
“She said that?”
“She said you would eventually sell your shares to someone else. She said the company needed a strong leader who understood business.”
“And she thought that was you?”
Nathan gave a bitter laugh.
“She made me believe it could be.”
I stared at him.
“You married me for my shares.”
“No,” he said quickly. “At first, no.”
At first.
The two words were a knife.
“I loved you,” he continued. “I still do.”
“You loved what being with me gave you.”
“That isn’t fair.”
“You hit me in your store because your mistress lied about me. You watched Celeste smile while I stood there bleeding. Do not ask me to be fair to you now.”
Nathan’s face crumpled.
“Celeste is not what you think.”
“She is your mistress.”
“Yes.”
“Then what else is there?”
He looked toward the gallery windows.
“She was working with Vivian before I ever met her.”
My blood went cold.
“She introduced you to me?”
Nathan nodded.
“Not directly. But she told me where you would be. She told me how to approach you. She knew what kind of man you liked.”
I could barely breathe.
Our first meeting had happened at a charity auction.
Nathan spilled champagne near my table, apologized with a charming smile, and spent the rest of the evening making me laugh.
I thought fate had brought us together.
But it had been arranged.
Every smile.
Every date.
Every promise.
A plan.
“Nathan,” I whispered, “what did Vivian want?”
He looked at me with misery in his eyes.
“Control.”
“And what did Celeste want?”
May you like
He hesitated.
Then said, “Your father.”
