Chapter 14 - The Inheritance Written in Blood|
The original trust documents arrived at Dominic's study that afternoon.
They had been retrieved from an independent law firm in Manhattan, one Elena Moretti had secretly consulted before her death.
Unlike the documents Simon Voss had been providing for years, these papers contained no clause transferring Ethan's inheritance to Saint Agnes if he died.
The foundation was only supposed to receive a modest annual donation.
Nothing more.
Dominic read the final page.
Then read it again.
“Simon forged the amendment.”
Gabriel nodded.
“It appears so. The signatures are being examined independently.”
I stood near the fireplace.
“What happens if the fake version is accepted?”
Dominic looked at me.
“Whoever controls Saint Agnes could acquire voting rights in businesses worth hundreds of millions.”
“Celeste.”
“Officially.”
He tossed the document onto his desk.
“But Simon controls its legal accounts.”
Gabriel opened another folder.
“There is something else.”
Dominic looked up.
“What?”
“The foundation has been making payments to several companies associated with Warehouse Seventeen.”
My heart began pounding.
“Jonah's warehouse.”
Gabriel nodded.
“The transfers started shortly before he disappeared.”
Dominic walked to the window.
For several minutes, nobody spoke.
Then I asked the question that had been haunting me.
“Why would anyone try to murder Ethan over documents that could be challenged?”
Dominic turned.
“Because a child's death creates confusion. Investigations. Estate disputes. Emergency control of assets.”
He paused.
“Someone expected to exploit that chaos before anyone discovered the forgery.”
I felt sick.
Ethan was eight.
He liked dinosaurs, chocolate milk, and comic books.
And people who wore expensive suits had apparently decided his life was worth less than the fortune bearing his name.
A knock interrupted us.
Gabriel answered.
A young woman entered carrying a sealed envelope.
“Mr. Moretti, this arrived from the independent law firm.”
Dominic opened it.
Inside was a photograph of Elena standing outside a Manhattan courthouse.
Beside her was Simon Voss.
And beside Simon stood a man I recognized instantly.
Jonah.
The photograph was dated three weeks before the warehouse fire.
I stepped forward.
“Why was my husband meeting your wife?”
Dominic stared at the image.
“I don't know.”
There was a handwritten message on the back.
When they find the missing signature, they will find the missing man.
My hands began trembling.
“Jonah was helping Elena.”
Dominic looked at me.
“Or he was helping Simon.”
I wanted to deny it.
May you like
But I couldn't.
Because after three years of mourning my husband, I had just discovered that almost everything he'd told me about his work had been a lie.
