Chapter 6 - THE WOMAN WHO FORGED SLOAN’S NAME
Marla Denning was living above a laundromat in Milwaukee.
The FBI found her through a pharmacy record.
Fifty-three.
Former senior paralegal at Halloway and Straoud.
She left Chicago six months after Preston Halloway’s indictment.
No forwarding address.
No social media.
No active law-firm employment.
When Maren knocked, Marla looked through the peephole and immediately said:
“I knew Sloan would find me eventually.”
That was not the response anyone expected.
She agreed to come to Chicago voluntarily.
One condition.
No Cormack Vale in the first interview.
Cormack heard.
“Fine.”
Sloan looked at him.
“You’re not offended?”
“Yes.”
“Good.”
He almost smiled.
Marla entered the federal interview room wearing a plain brown cardigan.
Her hands trembled.
Sloan sat across.
No prosecutor initially.
Just Maren.
Sloan.
Marla’s attorney.
The old notary journal sat between them.
Marla looked at it and started crying.
“I’m sorry.”
Sloan did not answer.
Marla continued.
“I copied your handwriting.”
“I know.”
“I used your seal.”
“I know.”
“I told myself it didn’t hurt you because everyone already knew the seal was stolen.”
Sloan’s face hardened.
“That made it worse.”
“I know.”
Marla cried harder.
Sloan waited.
No comfort yet.
Truth first.
“Who ordered it?”
“Preston.”
“After his arrest?”
“Before.”
“How many?”
“Maybe twenty.”
“There are forty-six.”
Marla looked frightened.
“Then someone continued after me.”
“Who?”
“Malcolm Reeves had the seal.”
There.
“He took it from Preston?”
“Yes.”
“When?”
“The week after you reported it stolen.”
“Why didn’t police find it during search?”
“Preston moved it to Mercy.”
Sloan felt sick.
The hospital.
Again.
Marla explained.
After Table 12, Preston knew Sloan might expose him.
He ordered Marla to gather every document Sloan had notarized.
Copies.
Signature examples.
Commission information.
Seal.
Journal.
At first, the goal was retaliation.
Create contradictory notarizations.
Damage Sloan’s credibility.
Then Gideon’s network realized something more useful.
Sloan’s identity had legitimacy.
She was invisible enough that many people would not know her personally.
A real notary commission.
Clean record.
Easy to imitate.
They used her.
Even after Preston’s arrest.
Malcolm Reeves kept copies.
Celia Marsh later inherited the system.
“She said your name was perfect.”
Marla whispered.
Sloan went cold.
“Why?”
“Because if anyone found the documents, they’d assume they were part of the old Marsh case.”
“Already investigated.”
“Already explained.”
“Old evidence.”
Sloan understood.
Hide new crimes inside a known scandal.
Brilliant.
Disgusting.
“What did Celia want?”
Marla shook her head.
“I never met her directly.”
“How do you know?”
“Malcolm talked.”
“He worshiped Gideon.”
“He said Celia understood how to fix her father’s mistakes.”
“What mistakes?”
“Being personal.”
Sloan stopped.
There.
Exactly what they had already suspected.
Gideon personally touched wrists.
Made threats.
Used names.
Celia built systems.
No direct coercion.
Algorithms.
Hardship databases.
Third-party contracts.
Law firms.
Property entities.
Marla continued.
“They called it the Continuity Model.”
Emma’s mother had found pieces.
Patient hardship information became investment targeting.
People with low legal resources, high emotional pressure, and assets that could be transferred cheaply were identified.
Not every case involved fraud.
That made the system harder to expose.
Some people knowingly sold property.
Some signed fair contracts.
Others did not.
Some signatures forged.
Some consent manipulated.
Some documents falsely notarized.
Sloan asked:
“Henry Talbot?”
Marla went pale.
“That was before me.”
“Did you hear about it?”
“Yes.”
“What?”
“Gideon used to say Declan Vale taught him that distressed owners sell cheapest after losing hope.”
Cormack heard later.
The sentence devastated him.
His father had not only committed crimes.
He taught methods.
Methods traveled.
People died.
Systems evolved.
Marla continued.
“Celia hated Cormack.”
“Why?”
“She thought he stole Riverline from her father and got praised for morality using money built by the same families.”
Sloan could understand the accusation.
Partly.
Cormack had benefited from old wealth.
He knew.
He had spent years trying to convert it.
That did not erase origin.
“What was the plan with the forged documents now?”
Marla swallowed.
“Create a record showing Sloan and Cormack benefited from Marsh assets after Table 12.”
Sloan stared.
“What?”
“Property transfers into Vale entities.”
“Notarized by you.”
“Then Riverline purchases.”
“Then charitable grants.”
A frame.
Not merely hiding new fraud.
Rewriting old history.
If enough forged documents appeared, prosecutors and press could be convinced Sloan’s rescue had been a corrupt acquisition.
Cormack pretended to save her.
She used her seal.
Together they stole Gideon’s assets.
Absurd.
Until paperwork made it look plausible.
Marla whispered:
“They wanted to make you the reason Gideon fell.”
Sloan laughed bitterly.
“I was part of the reason.”
“No.”
“Not morally.”
“Criminally.”
They wanted her turned from victim and witness into co-conspirator.
Maren asked:
“Why now?”
Marla looked toward Sloan.
“Because Riverline is worth almost three times what it was during construction.”
There.
Money.
Again.
Celia wanted leverage over Riverline.
If she could create criminal uncertainty around title, financing, and old Marsh equity, she could force settlement.
Maybe ownership.
Maybe billions.
The help coaster had once cost Cormack forty-two million.
Now someone wanted to turn that moment into a billion-dollar weapon.
Marla’s attorney asked for a break.
During it, Sloan sat alone in hallway.
Cormack waited at the far end.
He had honored the condition.
No interview room.
He approached only when Sloan looked at him.
“Can I?”
She nodded.
He sat.
“She forged my name.”
“I know.”
“They planned to make it look like you saved me because we were stealing Gideon’s money.”
Cormack’s face became still.
“That won’t survive evidence.”
“You hope.”
“Yes.”
“Do you know what headlines do before evidence?”
“Yes.”
He looked toward the floor.
Sloan studied him.
“Are you afraid?”
“Yes.”
“Of Riverline?”
“No.”
“What?”
He looked at her.
“That people will believe I only opened that door because I wanted something.”
Sloan’s expression softened.
He had built an entire second life around one decision people still misunderstood.
Not romance.
Not money.
A person asked for help.
He acted.
Now someone wanted to corrupt that too.
Sloan took his hand.
“I know why you did it.”
His eyes filled.
“That has to be enough for tonight.”
He nodded.
Then Maren came out.
“We found another file in Marla’s old storage.”
“What?”
Maren looked at Cormack.
“Leverage profiles.”
Cormack’s jaw tightened.
“On who?”
“On you.”
“Sloan.”
“Toby.”
“Fitz.”
“Several Riverline board members.”
Sloan felt cold.
Maren handed over one page.
SLOAN WHITAKER VALE.
Pressure points:
Brother’s health.
Professional reputation.
Marriage stability.
Cormack’s criminal history.
Fear of owing rescue debt.
Sloan stared.
Someone had studied her marriage.
Not from gossip.
From years of observation.
Then she saw the final line.
Recommended fracture strategy:
Prove Cormack concealed a death tied to Halstead.
Sloan stopped breathing.
They knew about Henry Talbot before Sloan did.
May you like
Celia had not merely built fraud around old Vale crimes.
She had been waiting for the moment those crimes could be used to break Sloan and Cormack apart.
