Chapter 7 - THE SIGNATURE IN HIS NAME
Dominic had signed enough contracts to recognize his own signature in his sleep. The one on the Sterling Advisory transfer looked convincing until he examined the last stroke of the letter R.
The forger had copied the shape but not the movement. Dominic signed quickly, finishing with a short upward line. This version ended in a deliberate curve, as though someone had traced the name from an old photograph.
He showed it to Rebecca. She refused to call it forgery before a document examiner reviewed the original.
"I was in Italy when this was signed," Dominic said.
"Then let's collect the travel records."
"My father knew I was away."
"That may help establish the timeline. It doesn't tell us who prepared the document."
Rebecca was right, as usual. Dominic gave her access to his archived itineraries and asked the independent accountants to preserve the originals. They had evidence of a suspicious transaction; they still needed an explanation that could survive scrutiny.
Vanessa's attorney responded two hours later. She claimed the transfer had been authorized under a delegated signing arrangement used during Dominic's travels. The alleged delegation letter was attached.
Dominic remembered no such letter.
But it carried his initials, and the attached correspondence appeared to come from an email address he had used at the time.
"Someone had access to my account," he said.
Rebecca studied the file. "Or you authorized something and forgot the exact paperwork. We should examine the metadata and archives."
He gave her a hard look.
"I'm not accusing you," she said. "I'm protecting you from making a claim that could be disproved."
Dominic took a breath. "Do it."
Meanwhile, Emily had begun sleeping in a small apartment owned by the estate's employee assistance provider, away from the staff wing where she had spent so many frightened nights. The apartment had a narrow balcony and an old-fashioned radiator that rattled at midnight. The first night, she woke three times expecting to hear Antonio calling for help.
Each time she reached for the phone before remembering he had trained nurses nearby.
She felt guilty for sleeping.
That feeling disturbed her more than exhaustion. She had come to believe that her usefulness depended on never resting, never complaining, and never leaving someone else alone. Her grandmother had taught her compassion, not self-erasure. Yet somewhere along the way Emily had confused the two.
She visited Antonio every afternoon, arriving after her paid shift at the care center's reception desk, where she had been temporarily reassigned with her consent. He asked about her meals, her apartment, and whether she had bought a warm coat.
"You're supposed to be the patient," she told him.
"Then stop letting me worry about you."
She laughed. It was the first easy laugh she'd had in weeks.
One afternoon, Antonio asked her to bring the blue blanket from the estate. "It's ugly, but it reminds me of those nights when I knew someone would answer."
Emily looked down. "Those nights were frightening."
"I know, sweetheart. I was frightened too."
She reached for his hand. "You don't have to be alone anymore."
He squeezed her fingers. "Neither do you."
Dominic heard the exchange from the doorway and stayed outside until they finished. It struck him that the relationship between them had formed without money, status, or any of the tools he normally used to shape loyalty. His father had trusted Emily because she stayed when no one required her to. Emily trusted Antonio because he treated her as a person rather than a servant.
Dominic wondered when he'd last earned anyone's trust in so simple a way.
That evening, he met with Mrs. Bell and the remaining household staff. He apologized for the reporting system that had allowed Vanessa to review complaints against herself and for the security arrangements that made employees reluctant to challenge Daniel.
No one applauded. A few looked skeptical. Dominic considered that a useful response.
He announced an independent reporting channel, a written policy forbidding retaliation, and a requirement that health concerns be directed to qualified professionals without delay. The changes would be reviewed by outside counsel and staff representatives rather than introduced as another order from the top.
Mrs. Bell raised her hand. "Will Emily be able to return if she wants to?"
"Yes, provided the investigation doesn't identify a legitimate reason otherwise. And she can choose a different assignment."
"Good," Mrs. Bell said. "Because she deserves an actual bed."
Several employees smiled. Dominic did too, briefly.
At ten, Rebecca called with the document examiner's preliminary assessment. The signature on the transfer agreement showed indications of simulation, though the examiner needed the original to provide a complete opinion. Travel records placed Dominic in Milan when the document was dated. More concerning was an email chain in which someone using an administrative account instructed the finance office to accept a scanned signature rather than require live verification.
"Who owned the administrative account?" Dominic asked.
"Your father's former business manager, Lawrence Sterling."
Vanessa's father.
Dominic sat back.
Lawrence had died three years before Dominic became engaged to Vanessa, but he had served as a consultant to the Romano family for nearly two decades. Dominic remembered him as a charming, unflappable man with expensive ties and a habit of calling everyone young man, even people older than himself.
"Do you think he forged it?" Dominic asked.
"We don't know. His account may have been used by someone else, or he may have approved the process without creating the signature. We need records and witnesses."
Dominic looked toward Matteo's photograph on the shelf. For years he had believed his brother's death marked the end of a reckless argument. Now the transfer suggested Matteo might have been investigating something far larger.
The next morning, an independent archivist discovered a missing board meeting minute from the week before the suspicious payment. The archived agenda listed a discussion of waterfront property valuations, but the final minutes contained no record of the discussion. A secretary who had worked for the family at the time remembered the meeting vividly.
"Matteo argued with Lawrence," she told Rebecca. "He said the property was worth far more than the offer. Lawrence told him he didn't understand how development deals worked."
"What happened after?" Rebecca asked.
"Matteo walked out. Antonio told everyone not to discuss it."
The secretary remembered one other detail: Dominic's brother had brought a woman from the neighborhood clinic to the meeting. Rose Bennett.
Emily's grandmother.
Rebecca called Emily and asked whether Rose had left any business documents among her belongings. Emily was uncertain but agreed to review the boxes she had stored after Rose's death. Dominic offered to help arrange transportation, but Emily asked to go with Mrs. Bell instead.
It was a small boundary. Dominic accepted it.
The boxes were in a self-storage unit in Queens. Emily found old family photographs, handmade scarves, letters from former patients, and three notebooks tied with twine. Rose's handwriting filled the pages. Most entries described ordinary acts of care: a resident who needed groceries, a man waiting for a wheelchair ramp, a family unable to afford transportation to appointments.
In the final notebook, Emily found a page headed ROMANO TRUST.
Beneath it were dates, property addresses, and notes about missing funds. Rose had circled the same consultant's name repeatedly.
Lawrence Sterling.
She had also written a sentence in the margin.
Matteo says the marina papers will prove it.
Emily felt a chill.
The marina.
The place Matteo died.
She photographed the page and called Rebecca, who instructed her to preserve the original. Then she turned to the last entry in the notebook.
It was written the day after Matteo's death.
Antonio came to see me. He said he knew the truth but couldn't bear to tell Dominic. I told him grief cannot be an excuse for silence forever.
Emily stared at the words. Her grandmother had carried a secret for years, and now the man who could explain it was alive but fragile, sitting in a care facility with a blue blanket over his knees.
She called Antonio.
He answered cheerfully, then grew quiet when she mentioned Rose's notebook.
"Mr. Romano," she asked, "what did you know about Matteo's accident?"
He was silent for so long she thought the call had disconnected.
Finally he whispered, "I knew he wasn't supposed to be on that boat."
Emily gripped the phone. "What do you mean?"
"Someone asked him to bring the records to the marina. He went because he believed it was a meeting with a man he could trust."
"Who?"
Antonio began to cry.
"Lawrence Sterling."
Emily closed her eyes.
The man was dead, but his daughter stood at the center of the current dispute. The past had not stayed buried. It had returned wearing an engagement ring.
Then Antonio whispered one more sentence.
May you like
Emily reread her grandmother's note in the quiet of the storage unit. She could almost hear Rose's voice reminding her that keeping a record did not mean refusing to trust people; it meant giving them a fair chance to explain what happened. Emily wondered whether Rose had ever felt frightened by the powerful men whose contracts she questioned. Probably, she decided. Courage had never meant that Rose lacked fear. She had simply loved the people depending on the trust more than she loved the comfort of staying quiet. Emily carefully placed the notebook into a clean folder, grateful that her grandmother had given her more than memories. She had given her a way to stand upright when other people wanted her to bend.
"Dominic thinks Matteo drowned by accident. I never told him there was another person on the boat."
