Chapter 5 - The Signature That Wasn't Mine|
I spent the next morning reviewing every financial document I could access.
For thirteen years, I had helped manage the legitimate side of Dante's businesses. I wasn't involved in his criminal operations, and I had never pretended to be. My responsibilities were the family foundation, charitable donations, household expenses, and a small portfolio of properties Dante had placed under my management after we married.
He used to call it our safety net.
“You're better with details than I am,” he'd told me years ago. “If something happens to me, I want you to know where everything is.”
I had believed him.
The three approvals in my email archive were dated over the previous six months. Each authorized a transfer from a family holding account to a company called Bellweather Consulting. The amounts were substantial, though not large enough to attract immediate attention.
The approval forms carried my name and electronic signature.
I knew I hadn't signed them.
I downloaded copies and called my attorney, Margaret Ellis, whom I had consulted once before when I updated my will.
“Don't confront anyone yet,” she advised after reviewing the documents. “Save the originals, preserve the emails, and don't access anything you aren't authorized to access.”
“Could someone have copied my signature?”
“Electronic approvals can be misused in several ways. We need an independent review before we draw conclusions.”
“Do you know Bellweather Consulting?”
“I'll look into its registration. In the meantime, change your personal passwords and secure your own accounts.”
I followed her instructions.
By noon, I had changed my email password, removed shared devices from my personal accounts, and enabled additional verification. I also discovered that someone had attempted to access my private cloud storage twice during the previous night.
The attempts had come from a device registered to the Morty estate.
I called Margaret again.
“Don't assume you know who did it,” she said. “But document everything.”
I printed the login alerts and placed them in a folder.
At three, Dante called from an unknown number.
I answered because I wanted to hear whether he could speak to me without issuing an order.
“Isabella.”
“Dante.”
“Your mother-in-law tells me you're staying with her.”
“I'm safe.”
“I didn't ask if you were safe.”
“No. You didn't.”
He exhaled sharply.
“Are you going to punish me forever over one bad decision?”
“One bad decision would have been asking me to sleep downstairs. You made several decisions after that. You blamed me, sent someone to watch me, and told Lucy I was trying to destroy our marriage.”
“I never said that.”
“Lucy heard it from you.”
He went quiet.
Then he tried a different approach.
“Bianca's situation was complicated. I was trying to help.”
“Then why did you need my bedroom?”
“I told you. She was distressed.”
“She had a condominium, a working guest room once the pipe was repaired, and six bedrooms available in our house.”
“You're making this about the bed.”
“No, Dante. I'm making it about the fact that you thought you could move me out of my own life without asking.”
He lowered his voice.
“Come home. We'll discuss everything privately.”
“I'm discussing it with my attorney first.”
The silence that followed was immediate and dangerous.
“Your attorney?”
“Yes.”
“What do you need an attorney for?”
“To understand my rights.”
“I'm your husband.”
“And I am a person, Dante. Not a room you can reassign.”
He hung up.
Ten minutes later, Margaret called back.
Bellweather Consulting had been incorporated three years earlier. Its listed manager was a woman named Natalie Cross. The company had no substantial public business history, but its registered address belonged to a commercial building owned by one of Dante's holding companies.
Margaret had also found a connection between Bellweather and Bianca.
The company's original registration documents listed Bianca as an emergency contact.
I stared at the page.
It wasn't proof that Bianca had done anything wrong. It wasn't even proof that Dante had known about the transfers. But it was enough to make my stomach turn.
That evening, a message arrived from an unfamiliar number.
You should stop looking into the transfers. You don't understand what you're risking.
I forwarded it to Margaret.
Then another message arrived.
Ask your husband why he needs you to remain the legal owner of a company you don't control.
I read it twice.
A company I didn't control?
I called Margaret immediately.
“Find every business registered in my name,” I said.
“Isabella, I need you to understand that this may become serious.”
“I understand.”
“And if Dante's people are involved, we need to be careful.”
I looked at the folder of forged approvals.
“For thirteen years, I've been careful.”
May you like
My voice steadied.
“Now I want to know the truth.”
