Chapter 4 - The Signature
Elena Harwick entered the room.
Fay stared at her.
Elena stopped.
Her gaze moved from Fay to Celeste.
Then to the ledger.
“What is she doing here?”
Celeste stepped backward.
Fay closed the ledger.
“You tell me.”
Elena's expression tightened.
“Conrad called me. He said you stopped answering.”
“And that brought you here?”
“Yes.”
“Alone?”
Elena hesitated.
That was enough.
Fay's heart began pounding.
The signature in the ledger belonged to Elena Harwick.
Or appeared to.
“Did you create Haven Supply Cooperative?”
Elena went still.
“No.”
“Your signature says otherwise.”
“What?”
Fay opened the ledger.
Elena stared at the page.
“That isn't my signature.”
“It looks exactly like it.”
“It should. It's copied.”
Celeste stepped forward.
“From what?”
Elena looked at her.
“The foundation's original incorporation documents.”
Celeste's face changed.
Those records were archived.
Only a handful of people had access.
Conrad entered thirty seconds later.
He took in the room with one glance.
Fay.
Elena.
Celeste.
Ledger.
His gaze stopped on Celeste.
“You have made several extraordinarily poor decisions.”
“I know.”
“Changing my wife's dresses was one.”
“I know.”
“Using her humiliation to investigate financial theft was another.”
Celeste lowered her eyes.
“I thought—”
“No. You didn't.”
Fay touched Conrad's arm.
He stopped.
Not because his anger disappeared.
Because Fay asked him to.
“Let her explain.”
Celeste did.
Six months earlier, she'd discovered discrepancies in household reimbursements.
She traced them to accounts resembling Elena's foundation accounts.
Every time Celeste investigated, records disappeared.
She became convinced somebody with high-level access was monitoring financial audits.
So she created small transactions outside normal patterns.
The gowns.
She ordered custom gowns, canceled them, substituted cheaper samples, and tracked the refund diversions.
“Why hurt Fay?” Conrad asked.
Celeste's eyes filled with shame.
“I needed returns I could predict.”
“You could have bought lamps.”
“I know.”
“Chairs.”
“I know.”
“Anything.”
“I know.”
Fay spoke quietly.
“You assumed hurting the plus-size woman was convenient because people would believe she returned clothes.”
Celeste looked at her.
“Yes.”
The honesty hurt.
But Fay preferred it.
“I am sorry.”
Fay nodded once.
“An apology doesn't erase it.”
“I understand.”
“Good.”
Conrad looked at the ledger.
“Who forged Mother's signature?”
Celeste shook her head.
“I traced access to three people.”
“Names.”
Celeste listed them.
Lydia Harwick.
Martin Vale, the foundation's chief financial officer.
And Samuel Donahue.
Fay's father.
The room went silent.
“No,” Fay said.
Celeste didn't argue.
She handed Fay another document.
Samuel Donahue had served as an outside property consultant for the foundation years earlier.
He had access to archived incorporation records.
More importantly, the false vendor began operating two months before his debts became public.
Fay stared at the dates.
Her father had told her his financial problems came from failed real-estate investments.
What if they hadn't?
Conrad stood beside her.
“You don't have to do this now.”
“Yes, I do.”
She called her father.
Samuel answered cheerfully.
“Fay-bird.”
Her throat tightened.
“Dad, where are you?”
“At home.”
“Stay there.”
“Why?”
“I need to ask you about Haven Supply Cooperative.”
Silence.
Fay closed her eyes.
“Dad?”
The call disconnected.
Conrad was already moving.
They reached Samuel's house twenty-five minutes later.
The front door was open.
The study had been emptied.
Desk drawers hung open.
Papers covered the floor.
Samuel was gone.
Fay found an envelope on his desk.
Her name was written across it.
Inside was a letter.
Fay—
I hoped you would never have to know.
I made mistakes.
But not the ones they will accuse me of.
Trust nobody who tells you the story is simple.
Especially not anyone named Harwick.
Fay read it twice.
Conrad stood behind her.
She handed it to him.
He read the final sentence.
Neither spoke.
Then Lydia called.
Conrad answered.
Her voice came fast.
“Where's Fay?”
“Beside me.”
“Put me on speaker.”
He did.
Lydia sounded frightened.
“I found something in Father's old files.”
Conrad's father, Richard Harwick, had died six years earlier.
“What?”
“A contract between Dad and Samuel Donahue.”
Fay's heart jumped.
“What kind of contract?”
“Debt acquisition.”
Conrad frowned.
Lydia continued.
“Dad bought Samuel's debt before he died.”
Fay looked at Conrad.
That contradicted everything they knew.
Conrad believed he'd acquired the Donahue debt years later through a portfolio purchase.
Lydia's voice dropped.
“And there's something else.”
“What?”
“The contract includes a marriage contingency.”
Fay stopped breathing.
Conrad's face emptied of expression.
“What marriage contingency?”
Lydia hesitated.
“If Samuel's debt couldn't be repaid, the Harwick family would acquire the Donahue properties unless a legal union between the families occurred.”
Fay looked at Conrad.
Their marriage.
Suddenly it didn't look like a solution created eight months earlier.
It looked like something planned years before either of them knew.
Conrad whispered, “Who signed it?”
“My father.”
“And Samuel?”
“No.”
“Then who?”
Lydia took a breath.
“The second signature belongs to someone who is still alive.”
A car door slammed outside Samuel's house.
Fay moved toward the window.
A black sedan had stopped at the curb.
The rear door opened.
A man stepped out.
Fay hadn't seen him since her wedding.
Conrad whispered his name.
“Martin Vale.”
Martin looked directly at the window.
May you like
Then raised a folder in his hand.
And smiled.
