Chapter 8 - A Signature in the Dark| I stared at the scanned document until the numbers blurred.
Adrian's signature appeared beneath a payment of forty-eight thousand dollars to a company called Harrow Security. The transaction was dated two days before my mother's accident.
“Could it be forged?” I asked.
The forensic accountant, Martin Ellis, folded his hands.
“Possibly. But I can't determine that from a scan. We need the original document and comparison samples.”
“Would Adrian have paid a security company to hurt my mother?”
“I can't answer a question about motive. I can tell you the payment is unusual.”
Rachel leaned forward.
“Could it have been for legitimate work?”
“Certainly. Security companies provide ordinary services. The amount alone doesn't establish wrongdoing.”
I wanted certainty. Instead, every responsible person I consulted gave me careful answers.
That afternoon, I met Adrian in a lawyer's conference room. Rachel attended with me, and Adrian brought his own attorney.
He looked tired, but he did not try to touch me or persuade me to return.
I slid a copy of the transaction across the table.
“Explain this.”
He studied it.
“I've never seen it.”
“It's your signature.”
“It resembles my signature.”
“Did you employ Harrow Security?”
“My father used them for transport and property protection. I may have signed routine documents connected to the company.”
“Two days before my mother's death?”
His jaw tightened.
“I didn't know your mother was in danger.”
“That's not what I asked.”
He looked up.
“No, Sophia. I did not order anyone to harm your mother.”
I wanted to believe him.
That frightened me more than the possibility that he was lying.
“Then help me find out who did.”
“I will.”
“Not by sending men to follow me. Not by offering money. And not by deciding which truths I can handle.”
He nodded.
“What do you need?”
“Access to the records your father left behind. Through our lawyers. No private meetings, no conditions, and no expectation that I'll return to you.”
His attorney started to speak, but Adrian raised one hand.
“Agreed.”
The answer surprised all three of us.
Within forty-eight hours, a legal team delivered copies of several archive inventories. Many boxes had been transferred to a warehouse after Dominic's death. Others were missing.
One inventory listed a reel-to-reel recording device and a set of tapes labeled with dates.
The tape from the night Dominic died was not listed.
However, a maintenance receipt showed that the recording system had been repaired three days after his death.
The technician's name was Samuel Reed.
Rachel tracked him to a retirement community in New Jersey. He was willing to speak, but only if we came with legal counsel and promised not to publish his statements without permission.
Samuel remembered the repair.
“Someone had removed a reel from the machine,” he said. “The owner wanted the entire system cleaned and reset.”
“Who requested the work?” Rachel asked.
“Mr. Moretti's assistant.”
“Did you see the missing reel?”
Samuel nodded.
“It was in a paper sleeve. I noticed because the label had been scratched out.”
“Did you keep it?”
“No. But I made a service note. I kept copies of all my invoices because clients sometimes disputed charges.”
He retrieved a folder from his cabinet.
Inside was a photocopy of the invoice. A handwritten note appeared at the bottom.
Original reel transferred to V.M. by personal instruction.
Victor Moretti.
Adrian read the line twice.
His face had gone pale.
“He told me there was no recording.”
Samuel looked at him.
“Then he lied to you.”
Outside, the sky had turned the color of old steel. Adrian stood beside his car while Rachel and I reviewed our next steps.
“I thought I knew him,” Adrian said.
“You trusted him.”
“That's not the same thing.”
“No,” I replied. “It isn't.”
He looked at me.
“Do you think I'm capable of becoming someone different?”
I remembered his voice in the study.
You are the shame of my name.
“I think people can change,” I said. “But I don't think they deserve forgiveness just because they finally notice what they've done.”
He accepted the answer without arguing.
For the first time, I wondered whether Adrian's greatest weakness was not cruelty but the belief that he could postpone accountability forever.
My phone buzzed.
A message from Margaret appeared.
I found the name of the person who hired Harrow Security. You need to see me tonight.
May you like
A second message followed.
Don't tell Adrian. He may already know.
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