Chapter 3 - The Signature That Should Not Exist
The judge called a short recess.
The second she left the bench, Tristan crossed the aisle.
Leah stepped between us.
“Stop.”
“This is my wife.”
“She is my client.”
Tristan looked over Leah’s shoulder at me.
“What are you doing?”
I almost laughed.
“Reading.”
“You know what I mean.”
“No. I really don’t.”
“You’re trying to destroy the company.”
“The company I apparently owned more of than you?”
His face hardened.
“You haven’t touched that business in years.”
“That isn’t the same thing as not owning it.”
“You stayed home.”
“I raised your children.”
“Our children.”
“Interesting that you remember that now.”
His eyes flashed.
“Nora.”
“Back away.”
The voice came from behind us.
Court security.
Tristan stepped back.
Chloe stood several feet away.
She looked shaken.
Not because of me.
Because she had just learned her future husband had lied to her about millions of dollars.
Maybe hundreds of millions.
When court resumed, Leah placed another affidavit into evidence.
The attorney whose notarization appeared on the disputed transfer had been located in Arizona.
Douglas Harlan.
Retired.
Seventy-two years old.
Still very much alive.
Judge Callahan read his sworn statement.
Then she looked at Carlton.
“Mr. Harlan says he did not witness Mrs. Pembroke sign this document.”
Carlton’s expression tightened.
“He also states that this is not his notary stamp.”
Silence.
Tristan leaned back.
The judge continued.
“Did your client provide this transfer to your firm?”
Carlton looked at Tristan.
“Yes.”
“When?”
“During preparation for the divorce.”
“Did he represent it as authentic?”
Another glance.
“Yes.”
Tristan leaned toward him.
“Careful.”
Carlton’s head snapped around.
“I am being careful.”
Judge Callahan heard that too.
“Mr. Pembroke, let your attorney speak.”
Leah added one final piece.
A forensic document examiner had conducted a preliminary review of the signature.
The ink wasn’t ink.
It was a digital reproduction.
My signature had apparently been lifted from another document, placed onto the transfer, then printed.
Carlton stood.
“This is preliminary.”
“It is,” Leah agreed.
“So no conclusion should be drawn.”
“Agreed.”
That surprised him.
Leah continued.
“That is why we requested the original metadata.”
Judge Callahan looked up.
“You have it?”
“We received it this morning.”
Tristan’s face changed.
Leah handed over the report.
The transfer claimed to have been signed on May 18.
The digital file was created on June 9.
Three weeks later.
Judge Callahan leaned back slowly.
“Mr. Pembroke.”
Carlton immediately said, “My client will not answer questions regarding the preparation of this document without further consultation.”
The judge nodded.
“That may be wise.”
Then she turned to me.
“Mrs. Pembroke, when did you first see this document?”
“Three weeks ago.”
“How?”
“Tristan sent me a settlement proposal. His attorneys attached a corporate ownership summary.”
Carlton’s eyes narrowed.
“He did not expect me to examine the supporting documents.”
Tristan said nothing.
“I saw my signature and knew immediately something was wrong.”
Judge Callahan asked, “Why?”
“Because I was unconscious when I supposedly signed it.”
A few people in the gallery laughed under their breath.
The judge silenced them with a look.
Then Leah changed direction.
“There is another related document.”
Tristan turned toward her.
This time there was real fear in his face.
It was gone quickly.
But I saw it.
So did Leah.
She placed an insurance policy on the table.
Judge Callahan frowned.
“What is this?”
“An eleven-million-dollar life insurance policy taken out on Mrs. Pembroke two days after the disputed stock transfer.”
My stomach tightened even though I already knew.
The judge looked at Tristan.
“Beneficiary?”
Leah answered.
“Originally Mr. Pembroke.”
“Originally?”
“Yes.”
The judge looked up.
“Who is it now?”
Leah slid another document forward.
“A private trust.”
I stared at Tristan.
“What trust?”
He didn’t look at me.
Leah said, “That is exactly what we are trying to determine.”
Then my phone vibrated on the table.
A message from the babysitter.
Lucas keeps asking if his dad can burn papers and still own them. Do you know what he means?
I stared at the screen.
My skin went cold.
Because I suddenly remembered what Lucas had whispered before leaving the courtroom.
May you like
Don’t sign anything.
And I realized the boys had seen more than Tristan knew.
