Chapter 6 - THE SIGNATURE
I stared at the photograph until the words blurred.
I knew that signature.
It was mine.
But it couldn't be.
General Carver took the phone.
“Don't respond.”
“I wasn't going to.”
He looked at the image again.
“Whoever sent this wants you emotionally compromised.”
“What if it's real?”
“Then we'll find out.”
He called his team.
I sat there trying to remember something that had happened more than a decade ago.
My mother.
Christian's father.
A private investigation.
A signature.
Nothing connected.
Then one memory surfaced.
I was twenty-two.
My mother had been sick.
She had asked me to sign something.
I remembered sitting at a kitchen table.
I remembered a blue pen.
I remembered her saying,
“Don't read it yet.”
I had forgotten everything after that.
Carver watched me.
“What did you remember?”
I told him.
He immediately requested an old records search.
Twenty minutes later, a technician returned.
“We found something.”
A scanned document appeared on the screen.
A power-of-attorney form.
My signature.
Date: twelve years before my marriage.
I stared.
“What did I authorize?”
The technician enlarged the page.
The wording was difficult to read.
But one phrase stood out.
Financial authority regarding assets held in trust.
I looked at Carver.
“I didn't know I had assets.”
“You may not have.”
“Then whose were they?”
He didn't answer.
A second document appeared.
My mother's name.
Then another.
Christian's father's name.
The connection was becoming clearer.
My mother had not worked for his father.
They had been partners in something.
Something involving money.
And I had unknowingly signed away control.
But why?
Then Christian called.
This time, I answered.
“Where are you?”
“At the old office.”
“Are you safe?”
“For now.”
“What happened?”
“I found the original file.”
“Tell me.”
“My father was investigating someone.”
“Who?”
“You.”
My chest tightened.
“What?”
“He believed you were connected to a classified financial network.”
“That makes no sense.”
“I know.”
“Then why?”
“Because of your mother.”
I closed my eyes.
“What did she do?”
“She moved money.”
I opened my eyes.
“For what?”
“To protect people.”
Christian's voice trembled.
“My father discovered that military contractors were being used to move illegal payments through private trusts.”
Carver looked at me.
That explained the security concerns.
Christian continued.
“Your mother found out.”
“And my signature?”
“She needed someone legally separate from the network.”
“Me.”
“Yes.”
I sat down.
“My mother used me.”
“No.”
Christian's voice softened.
“She protected you.”
“How?”
“She put the assets in your name.”
I looked at Carver.
He nodded slowly.
“That's possible.”
Christian continued.
“My father helped her.”
“What happened?”
“He tried to expose the network.”
“And?”
“My uncle stopped him.”
“Your uncle?”
“Lucien Dupont.”
The name was unfamiliar.
“My father had a brother?”
“Yes.”
“Where is he?”
“Dead.”
“When?”
“Eight years ago.”
I frowned.
“Then why is this still happening?”
Silence.
Christian whispered,
“Because he had a daughter.”
My stomach tightened.
“Who?”
Before he could answer, Carver entered the room.
He held a printed photograph.
“We know.”
He placed it on the table.
A woman.
Blonde hair.
Cold eyes.
Elise Laurent.
I stared.
“But you said she disappeared.”
“She did.”
“Then how did you find her?”
Carver looked at the photograph.
“We didn't.”
He turned it over.
A new name had been written on the back.
Giselle Laurent.
My breath stopped.
“Giselle?”
Carver nodded.
“Her legal name is Giselle Laurent Dupont.”
I stared.
“The woman at the wedding?”
“Yes.”
“That can't be.”
Carver looked at me.
“She is Lucien Dupont's daughter.”
The room went silent.
Everything I believed about Giselle shifted.
She hadn't simply chosen Christian.
She had been born into the family.
She had known the Dupont empire.
She had known the trust.
She had known my name.
Maybe she had known me long before high school.
I remembered the way she used to watch me.
The competition.
The comments.
The strange questions about my mother.
The invitation.
The house.
The photographs.
Then I remembered something she had said that morning.
You can help watch the gift-envelope table.
It wasn't arrogance.
It was a test.
She had wanted to know whether I would come.
I looked at Carver.
“Giselle knew.”
“Probably.”
“Then why marry Christian?”
Carver's answer was quiet.
“To get access to the trust.”
My phone vibrated.
A message from Giselle.
Camille, I owe you the truth.
Another arrived.
Christian was never the target.
Then the final message.
May you like
You were.
---
