Chapter 4: My Father's Signature Was on the Missing Deed
For several seconds, Dad didn't move.
The photograph lay on the table between us, its corners curling beneath the afternoon sun. Beneath my mother's handwriting was a signature that looked exactly like his.
Daniel Carter.
My father stared at it as though the ink might rearrange itself if he waited long enough.
“That isn't possible,” he whispered.
Marcus Reed closed his briefcase.
“That's what you said when you saw the certificate.””
Dad lifted his eyes.
“Are you suggesting I stole money from my own family?””
“No,” Marcus replied.
“I'm suggesting someone may have used your name to move assets without your knowledge. Those are two very different things.””
Vanessa appeared in the doorway before Dad could answer.
She had changed out of her red pantsuit into a cream-colored blouse, but she still wore the same gold watch. Her hair was perfectly straight, and she carried a glass of water she hadn't touched.
“What is this meeting about?”” she asked.
Dad covered the photograph with his hand.
“Financial records.””
“Then it can wait. We have guests arriving for dinner.””
“Cancel dinner.””
Vanessa stopped.
“Excuse me?””
“Cancel it.””
She placed the glass on the nearest table with enough force to make the water ripple.
“Daniel, I've spent the entire day trying to keep this household functioning while you indulge every fantasy attached to your former wife.””
Marcus remained silent.
Dad rose from his chair.
“Do you recognize this signature?””
He moved his hand.
Vanessa looked at the photograph.
Her expression changed for only a fraction of a second, but I saw it. Her lips parted. Her gaze darted toward Marcus's briefcase, then returned to the signature.
“It's yours,” she said.
“I know that.””
“Then why are you asking me?””
“Because I don't remember signing this document.””
Vanessa crossed her arms.
“You signed hundreds of documents when you were building Carter Holdings. You can't expect to remember every piece of paper.””
“That's why I keep records.””
“Records get lost.””
“Not in my office.””
She laughed without humor.
“You're seriously going to question your own memory because a private investigator brought you an old photograph?””
Marcus leaned forward.
“Mrs. Carter, this isn't an accusation. We're trying to establish a timeline.””
“Then establish one without dragging my family into it.””
“Your family is already involved,” Marcus replied.
“The trust lists a beneficiary whose identity hasn't been verified. The certificate was concealed in a vehicle someone tried to sell using an authorization that Daniel says he never signed.””
Vanessa's eyes hardened.
“You have no idea what you're talking about.””
“Then help us understand.””
She looked at Dad.
“I will not sit here while a stranger questions me in my own home.””
Dad's voice was quiet.
“Then answer one question and leave.””
“What?””
“Did you know my wife had a private trust?””
Vanessa's fingers tightened around her wristwatch.
“I knew she handled some investments.””
“Which investments?””
“I don't remember.””
“Who managed them?””
“I don't know.””
Marcus slid another photograph across the table.
It showed my mother leaving a bank, carrying a dark leather folder.
Vanessa glanced at it and immediately pushed it away.
“I'm not interested in looking at photographs of a woman who abandoned her child.””
I felt my face grow hot.
“She didn't abandon me.””
Vanessa turned toward me.
“You have no proof she intended to return.””
“I have her letter.””
“And letters can lie.””
Dad stood so abruptly that his chair scraped across the floor.
“Do not speak to my daughter that way.””
Vanessa stared at him.
For years, I had watched her make small decisions for our family. She chose the furniture, the vacations, the schools she thought were acceptable, even the flowers placed beside my mother's photograph.
Dad rarely challenged her.
Now he was standing between us, and she seemed unable to understand why.
“You're making a mistake,” she said.
“Maybe. But I'm finished pretending that nothing happened.””
She looked at Marcus.
Then she looked at the certificate.
Finally, she turned and walked upstairs without another word.
The moment she disappeared, Dad sank back into his chair.
Marcus waited before speaking.
“Daniel, I need you to think carefully. Did you ever sign documents connected to a trust established before your wife disappeared?””
Dad rubbed his temples.
“There were corporate restructuring documents around that time. My company was expanding, and our attorneys were moving assets between holding companies.””
“Did Richard Bell handle them?””
“Yes.””
“Did Vanessa have access to your office?””
Dad looked toward the stairs.
“She had access to the house. She occasionally brought me documents when I was working late.””
Marcus wrote something in his notebook.
“Did she ever ask you to sign a page without showing you the attachments?””
Dad hesitated.
“Once.””
I leaned forward.
“When?””
He looked at me, then back at Marcus.
“About a month before your mother disappeared. Vanessa said our accountant needed a signature on a document concerning the family estate. I was preparing for a meeting, so I signed where she pointed.””
Marcus's pen stopped.
“Do you remember reading the document?””
“No.””
“Did you keep a copy?””
“I assumed the law firm did.””
Marcus closed his notebook.
“Then we need the firm's original file.””
Dad took out his phone.
“I'll call Richard now.””
Marcus raised a hand.
“Before you do, there's something else. Your wife didn't only ask me to investigate the trust. She also asked me to find out whether the person managing it had changed the beneficiary designation.””
“Why?””
“Because she believed someone was preparing to transfer the entire asset.””
Dad stared at the certificate.
“Two million dollars.””
“At least according to the certificate's stated value. We still need to verify what the asset actually is and whether the valuation is current.””
I looked at the paper.
“Who gets the money?””
Marcus glanced at the covered name in his folder.
“That's what the original deed should tell us.””
“Can't you just remove the paper?””
“No. Not until we can verify the document.””
“Why?””
“Because if your mother was right about someone altering these records, we need evidence that can withstand scrutiny. Guessing the name won't help us.””
Dad nodded slowly.
“Then we'll get the original deed.””
He called Richard Bell.
The attorney answered after three rings.
“Daniel. I was about to call you.””
“About what?””
“The proposed sale of a property connected to the family estate.””
Dad looked at Marcus.
“What property?””
There was a pause.
“Your wife had an investment arrangement years ago. Some of those assets are being reviewed for transfer.””
“Who authorized it?””
“That's what I wanted to discuss with you.””
“Did I sign a trust deed around six years ago?””
Richard was silent long enough for Dad to check whether the call had disconnected.
“Richard?””
“I'd need to review the file.””
“Did I sign it?””
“I can't confirm that without seeing the original.””
“Then bring it here.””
“Daniel, I don't think that's wise.””
Dad's eyes narrowed.
“Why?””
“Because if there is a discrepancy, discussing it informally could complicate the situation.””
“I'm not asking you to discuss it informally. I'm asking you to bring the original document to my house.””
“I'll have to check the archive.””
“Do that.””
Dad ended the call.
Marcus watched him.
“He sounded nervous.””
“He always sounds nervous when he hasn't prepared an answer,” Dad replied.
“That's not what I mean. He knew which file you were asking about before you explained it.””
Dad's face hardened.
“He said he was about to call me about a property transfer.””
“Did he mention the trust?””
“No.””
“Then we need to find out what he was planning to transfer.””
A faint noise came from the staircase.
I turned.
Vanessa was standing halfway down, holding a small black handbag.
She had changed into a dark coat and was wearing sunglasses despite being indoors.
Dad looked at her.
“Where are you going?””
“To my sister's.””
“Why?””
“Because I refuse to spend another minute being treated like a criminal.””
“You can leave if you want. But don't take any family documents with you.””
Vanessa laughed.
“Are you going to search my handbag now?””
“No.””
“Good. Because you have no right.””
She descended the remaining steps, her heels clicking against the marble.
As she passed me, she stopped.
“You should be careful about what you believe, Jasmine.””
I looked up at her.
“Why?””
“Because people sometimes leave things behind to make sure the wrong person gets blamed.””
She continued toward the door.
Dad didn't stop her.
But just as she reached the handle, Marcus spoke.
“Mrs. Carter?””
Vanessa turned.
“Yes?””
“Have you ever heard of the Mercer Family Trust?””
The handbag slipped slightly in her hand.
It was a tiny movement, almost invisible.
But Marcus saw it.
Dad saw it.
And I saw the fear that flashed across her face before she recovered.
“No,” she said.
Marcus opened his folder.
“Interesting. Because your name appears on a document connected to it.””
Vanessa's fingers tightened around the handbag.
“That document is fraudulent.””
“You haven't seen it.””
“I don't need to.””
Dad stepped toward her.
“How do you know it's fraudulent?””
She stared at him.
For the first time, she seemed to realize she'd answered too quickly.
Then she opened the front door.
“Ask your dead wife,” she said.
“She was the one who created this mess.””
The door slammed behind her.
Dad stood motionless.
Marcus quietly wrote down the time.
I looked at the staircase, then at the silver case on the table.
“Dad?””
He turned toward me.
“What if she knows where Mom is?””
His expression crumpled.
For a moment, he looked as though he might tell me something he had kept buried for years.
Instead, he took my hand.
“Then we're going to find out.””
Outside, Vanessa's car engine started.
Marcus went to the window.
“She isn't driving toward the main gate.””
Dad joined him.
“What?””
Marcus pointed toward the side road.
“She's heading toward the garage.””
We watched her car disappear behind the hedges.
Then Marcus's phone vibrated.
He looked at the screen and frowned.
“That's strange.””
“What is it?”” Dad asked.
“A message from my former assistant.””
He turned the phone around.
The message contained a photograph of a document retrieved from an old storage box.
At the bottom was the same trust number printed on the certificate.
Above it was a handwritten note.
*Original deed transferred to the Carter residence, October 14.*
May you like
The date was six years old.
And the initials beside the note belonged to Vanessa.
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