Chapter 5: The Signature That Wasn't Mine
By the time I reached the Bellamy estate, Vanessa's black Mercedes was parked in front of the house.
A second car stood behind it.
Martin Caldwell's.
I entered through the front doors without waiting for the housekeeper.
The foyer was silent.
Then I heard Vanessa's voice coming from my father's study.
"Once this is signed, the remaining process should be straightforward.""
A man's voice answered.
"Provided the board doesn't ask questions.""
"They won't. I've already handled the Harringtons.""
I pushed open the door.
Both of them turned.
Vanessa's face hardened immediately.
"Camille. What are you doing here?""
I looked at Martin.
He was older than I remembered, with thinning gray hair and a narrow scar cutting through his left eyebrow.
He stood beside my father's desk holding a leather briefcase.
For several seconds, he simply stared at me.
Then he smiled.
"Well, if it isn't little Camille.""
I didn't return the smile.
"Mr. Caldwell.""
"Please. Martin is fine.""
"I prefer Mr. Caldwell.""
Vanessa closed the folder in front of her.
"This is a private business meeting.""
"Then why are you using my father's office?""
"Because I am managing the family estate.""
"No, you're not.""
Her eyes narrowed.
"Excuse me?""
I stepped toward the desk.
"I've reviewed the trust agreement. You have no authority to transfer any controlling shares.""
Martin chuckled.
"That's a rather complicated matter for someone without business experience.""
I looked at him.
"Interesting. You were my father's chief financial officer. You should know exactly how the trust works.""
His smile disappeared for half a second.
Then he recovered.
"Of course I do.""
"Then you know this transfer is unauthorized.""
Vanessa stood.
"Camille, stop pretending you understand things you clearly don't.""
I took the document from the desk.
My signature appeared at the bottom.
It was convincing.
Almost perfect.
But there was one detail Martin had overlooked.
My father's estate documents required two signatures for any transfer exceeding ten percent of the controlling shares.
One from the beneficiary.
One from the independent trustee.
The document had only one.
And the supposed trustee's authorization had been pasted into the final page from another file.
I placed it back on the desk.
"Who forged this?""
Vanessa's mouth tightened.
"Watch your language.""
"Did you sign my name?""
"Don't be ridiculous.""
I turned toward Martin.
"Did you?""
He closed his briefcase.
"Miss Bennett, I suggest you leave these matters to professionals.""
"Then perhaps you should stop pretending to be one.""
His expression darkened.
Vanessa moved between us.
"Enough. You're upsetting everyone.""
I laughed quietly.
"You're concerned about upsetting people?""
"You're behaving irrationally.""
"Is that what you're telling the sponsors?""
Vanessa went still.
I continued.
"Are you telling the foundation that I'm unstable? That I'm incapable of managing my inheritance?""
Her lips parted.
Martin looked at her.
Neither answered.
I pulled out my phone.
"Because I would hate for them to discover that the person making those claims has been submitting forged documents.""
Vanessa slapped her hand against the desk.
"Put that phone away!""
"No.""
"You're making a terrible mistake.""
"Then explain the document.""
She looked at Martin.
He immediately stepped forward.
"Perhaps we should reschedule this meeting.""
I smiled.
"Excellent idea. I'll have my attorney present next time.""
Vanessa's eyes flashed.
"You don't have an attorney.""
"I do now.""
Martin picked up his briefcase.
As he walked past me, he leaned close.
"Your father should have stayed out of things he didn't understand.""
My entire body went still.
"What did you say?""
He stopped.
For the first time, his confidence seemed to slip.
"Nothing.""
I stepped closer.
"Repeat it.""
Vanessa immediately grabbed his arm.
"Martin, we're leaving.""
He pulled away.
Then he looked at me.
"Enjoy your little Halloween party, Camille. You may find the evening doesn't go exactly as planned.""
They left.
I stood alone in my father's study.
My hands were shaking.
Not from fear.
From the realization that Martin might know something about my father's death.
A soft knock came from the doorway.
Evelyn entered.
"Are you all right?""
I nodded.
"Did you hear what he said?""
"Yes.""
I looked at her.
"Did you ever hear him threaten my father?""
Evelyn hesitated.
Then she closed the door.
"Three days before your father died, I heard them arguing.""
"Who?""
"Your father and Martin.""
"What were they arguing about?""
"Money. A large amount. Your father said he had found evidence of unauthorized transfers.""
I swallowed.
"Did he say anything else?""
Evelyn looked down.
"He said, 'If anything happens to me, make sure Camille gets the documents.''"
My throat tightened.
"And what did Martin say?""
Evelyn's voice dropped.
"He said your father was making a mistake by trusting you.""
I closed my eyes.
For a moment, I couldn't speak.
Then I asked the question that had been haunting me.
"Was my father's death really an accident?""
Evelyn shook her head.
"I don't know, sweetheart. But I never believed everything we were told.""
I walked to the window.
Outside, Brielle was getting out of her car.
She carried several shopping bags and laughed into her phone.
She looked happy.
Carefree.
Completely unaware that the people she trusted might have been involved in something much darker than stealing a dress.
I turned back to Evelyn.
"Did my father keep any personal files here?""
She nodded.
"There's a locked cabinet in the basement. Vanessa told us never to touch it.""
"Can you take me there?""
"Of course.""
We went downstairs.
The basement smelled of old wood and dust. Behind a row of storage boxes stood a steel cabinet with a combination lock.
Evelyn pointed toward it.
"Your father kept his private business records there.""
I examined the lock.
There were four numbered wheels.
I tried my birthday.
Nothing.
My father's birthday.
Nothing.
Then I remembered something.
The day my mother died.
The date my father always called the most important day of his life because it was the day I was born.
I entered the numbers.
The lock clicked.
Inside were several folders, a small recording device, and an envelope marked:
*MARTIN CALDWELL — ORIGINAL EVIDENCE.*
I opened it.
The first document showed a series of payments made to a private account.
The amounts were enormous.
The second was an email exchange between Martin and an unknown recipient.
The third made my stomach turn.
It was a handwritten note from my father.
Vanessa knows about the transfers. Martin is using her. I believe he has promised her control of the company in exchange for her cooperation.
I sat on a nearby storage box.
Evelyn gasped.
"What does it say?""
I handed her the note.
She read it slowly.
Then she looked at me.
"Your father knew.""
"Yes.""
I examined the recording device.
It had a small screen and a single file saved on it.
The date was the night before my father's hospitalization.
I pressed play.
Static filled the room.
Then I heard my father's voice.
"Martin, I know what you've done.""
A second voice answered.
Martin.
"You're making a mistake, Richard.""
"Those accounts belong to my daughter.""
"Your daughter doesn't know anything about the company.""
"She will.""
There was a pause.
Then Martin spoke again.
"Vanessa deserves something for all these years.""
My father's voice became colder.
"She has been paid more than enough.""
"And if she doesn't agree?""
"Then she'll have to explain the missing money to the police.""
A chair scraped.
Then Martin said something that made my blood run cold.
"You should think carefully about what happens when you start making accusations.""
The recording ended.
I stared at the device.
Evelyn covered her mouth.
"Sweetheart...""
I replayed the final thirty seconds.
There was something else.
A faint sound behind the voices.
A door opening.
Then a woman's voice.
Vanessa.
"Martin, is it done?""
My stomach dropped.
The recording stopped.
I looked at Evelyn.
"Can you copy this?""
She nodded.
I carefully placed the original device back into its case.
Then my phone rang.
It was Adrian.
"Camille, we have a problem.""
"What now?""
"Brielle has posted a video.""
I opened the link he sent.
It showed Brielle standing in front of a luxury boutique, wearing the turquoise butterfly gown.
She smiled at the camera.
"After months of preparation, I'm thrilled to announce that I'll be appearing as the official fairy queen at the Midnight Masquerade.""
The comments were already exploding.
People were congratulating her.
Fashion accounts were reposting the video.
Then I saw the caption.
Original design by Brielle Bennett. A dream finally becoming reality.
I stared at the screen.
She hadn't just stolen my dress.
She had stolen my work.
And the gala's official social media account had already shared her announcement.
Adrian spoke again.
"Camille, Eleanor is furious. The committee wants to know whether they should cancel Brielle's appearance.""
I looked at the recording device.
Then at the original design contract in my bag.
"No.""
"You're sure?""
"Let her come.""
A pause.
"Camille, she has been publicly claiming your work.""
"I know.""
"What do you want us to do?""
I looked at the video again.
Brielle was smiling beneath the boutique's golden lights.
I smiled too.
"Send her the official performer confirmation.""
Adrian hesitated.
"Why?""
"Because I want her to arrive believing she's the star of the show.""
"And then?""
May you like
I looked at the black envelope on my desk.
"Then we'll turn on the lights.""
