Chapter 8 - My Signature|
The document was delivered to the hospital under police supervision.
I stared at it.
My name appeared at the bottom.
Marcus Whitaker.
The signature looked like mine.
The date was six weeks earlier.
The document authorized Margaret Collins to obtain certain non-emergency medical products for Zion.
I had never seen it.
"I didn't sign this."
Detective Bennett placed the paper on the table.
"Are you certain?"
"Absolutely."
"Your signature appears authentic."
"Then someone copied it."
My attorney examined the page.
"There's no witness signature, no notary, and the document doesn't identify a prescribing physician."
"Can it still be used?"
"It depends on how it was created and what it was used for."
Emily stood near the door.
"Margaret said you had approved everything."
I turned toward her.
"Did she show you this?"
"No. But she told the staff that you wanted Zion to sleep longer because you were worried about his crying."
I felt sick.
"She said that?"
Emily nodded.
"She told us you were exhausted and wanted the baby to follow a stricter schedule."
I looked at the document again.
I remembered signing dozens of forms during that period.
My wife had died only months earlier. I had been working constantly, barely sleeping, and trying to keep my company from falling apart.
Someone had taken advantage of that.
"Who had access to my office?"
"Your executive assistant, your household manager, and Margaret," my attorney said.
"Margaret had access?"
"She occasionally brought documents to the study when you were working from home."
I stared at him.
"Why?"
"She said you had asked her to."
I felt a wave of anger.
Then Detective Bennett spoke.
"We also found payment records."
"From whom?"
"An account connected to a company called Silver Birch Wellness."
My attorney frowned.
"I know that company. It provides private household health services."
"Who owns it?"
"Let me check."
He took out his phone.
I turned toward Detective Bennett.
"Was Margaret paying them?"
"Not directly. The payments came from a business account associated with your family trust."
My blood ran cold.
"Someone used my son's trust to pay for this?"
"We're investigating."
I looked at the document again.
"How much?"
The detective read from her notes.
"Approximately forty-eight thousand dollars over four months."
I felt as if the room had disappeared around me.
Forty-eight thousand dollars.
Money taken from an account meant to protect my son.
My attorney looked up from his phone.
"Marcus, Silver Birch Wellness is registered to a company called Northgate Advisory."
"Who owns Northgate?"
He hesitated.
Then he said:
"Your brother-in-law."
I stared at him.
"Daniel?"
Daniel Whitaker was my late wife's younger brother.
He had helped manage some of Olivia's financial affairs after her death.
I hadn't spoken to him in nearly a year.
"Why would Daniel be involved?"
Detective Bennett closed her notebook.
"That's what we're going to find out."
At that moment, my phone rang.
The caller ID displayed Daniel's name.
I answered.
"Where are you?"
His voice was calm.
"Marcus, I heard Zion is in the hospital. I wanted to check on him."
"How did you hear?"
A pause.
"People talk."
"Did you authorize payments from my son's trust to Silver Birch Wellness?"
The silence lasted too long.
Then Daniel said:
"We should discuss this in person."
"Answer me."
"Not over the phone."
"Daniel, did you?"
His voice hardened.
May you like
"Be careful, Marcus. You don't understand what you're looking at."
Then he hung up.
