Chapter 8 - The Scholarship She Never Received|
Clara spent the next hour staring at the signature.
It resembled hers in the way a stranger might resemble a relative from a distance. The first letter was correct. The final stroke was close. But Clara had always written the last two letters of her surname with a sharp upward line, a habit her mother had teased her about since childhood.
The signature on the scholarship form sloped downward.
“Someone forged it,” she said.
The analyst didn't argue.
“That's a possibility. We need the original document and an independent handwriting examination before making a conclusion.”
Dante nodded.
“Get both.”
Clara pushed back from the table.
“Twenty-five thousand dollars. Someone used my name to claim money I never saw.”
“That's what the record suggests.”
“And everyone acted as if my mother was some helpless woman who couldn't protect herself. Maybe she was trying to protect me from exactly this.”
Dante said nothing.
She looked at him, frustrated by his restraint.
“Don't you have anything to say?”
“I do. But I don't want to tell you what to feel.”
“I feel stupid.”
“You shouldn't.”
“I worked for Victoria. I organized her parties. I corrected her guest lists. I carried her bags while she was apparently connected to a charity using my name.”
“You didn't know.”
“I should have noticed.”
“Should you have known a signature was forged on a document you never saw? Should you have investigated a charity you weren't told existed? Should you have suspected your employer of wrongdoing because she asked you to replace a folder?”
He paused.
“Clara, there is a difference between being observant and being responsible for other people's dishonesty.”
She looked away.
No one had ever explained it that way.
At seven the next morning, Dante arranged for Clara to meet an independent attorney named Helen Park. Helen specialized in financial fraud and employment disputes. She was direct, calm, and unimpressed by Dante's reputation.
“I represent you,” Helen told Clara. “Not Mr. Moretti. Not the foundation. Not the people who might be implicated. You decide what happens to your documents, and you don't sign anything without understanding it.”
Clara nodded.
Helen reviewed the scholarship form and the messages from Victoria.
“Don't delete anything. Preserve the original messages and make a list of the documents you remember handling. Don't guess. If you don't know what was inside an envelope, say so.”
“What if Victoria accuses me of stealing?”
“Then she can produce evidence. An accusation is not proof.”
Dante remained near the window while Helen spoke.
When the meeting ended, Clara approached him.
“Why are you doing all this?”
“Because someone has been exploiting your name.”
“You could hire an attorney and walk away.”
“I could.”
“But you won't.”
“No.”
“Why?”
He looked at the city beyond the glass.
“Because years ago, I chose not to question a financial report that looked convenient. I assumed the people who prepared it knew what they were doing. By the time I realized something was wrong, witnesses had disappeared and the records were gone.”
“Was that when the accountant died?”
“Yes.”
“Do you think your uncle was guilty?”
“I think he was involved in a company where people learned that silence was profitable. I don't know which parts he understood, and I won't invent answers just because the story would be simpler that way.”
Clara studied him.
For a man surrounded by rumors, he seemed unusually careful about what he claimed to know.
Her phone vibrated again.
This time, it was a voice message from Victoria.
Clara played it on speaker.
“Clara, I suggest you think very carefully before you involve yourself in matters you don't understand. You have a modest background, no legal training, and no resources. I can make sure you never work in this city again. Come to my office, apologize for last night, and return anything that belongs to me. If you behave sensibly, we can forget this unpleasantness.”
The message ended.
Clara's face burned.
Dante looked ready to make a call.
She raised her hand.
“Don't.”
“She's threatening you.”
“I know.”
“Then let me handle it.”
“No. You can help me understand the documents. You can help me stay safe. But I have to be the one who answers her.”
Dante considered that, then nodded.
“All right.”
Clara opened her messages and typed a reply.
I will communicate through my attorney. Please preserve all employment, payroll, and foundation records.
She sent it before she could lose her nerve.
For a moment, she felt taller.
Then a new email arrived from an unknown address.
The subject line read: YOUR MOTHER'S LAST LETTER.
There was no message in the body.
Only an attachment.
Clara opened it.
A scanned letter appeared on the screen, written in her mother's unmistakable hand.
The first line read:
My dearest Clara, if you ever learn what happened to the scholarship money, do not trust the person who offers to return it.
The final line was more frightening.
Because the person who signed the payment order was not the person who stole the money.
May you like
And beneath the letter was a name Clara had never expected to see.
Dante Moretti.
