Chapter 3 - MY HUSBAND'S NAME

I stopped breathing.

Daniel stared at the tablet.

“That’s impossible.”

Rachel said nothing.

His name was right there.

Daniel Michael Whitmore.

Authorized managing officer.

Signature recorded four years earlier.

My husband looked at me.

“Claire, I didn’t sign this.”

I wanted to believe him immediately.

But betrayal does something ugly to trust.

It makes even familiar faces look different.

“You never knew about Carter Resale?”

“No.”

“Never?”

“I swear to you.”

Rachel stepped between us.

“Oh, please. He knew.”

Daniel turned slowly.

“What?”

She folded her arms.

“You signed the papers.”

“I did not.”

“You don’t remember everything you sign.”

“I remember becoming an officer of a company.”

Grant lunged forward.

“You made my company with his name?”

Evelyn stood.

“Everyone stop shouting.”

Nobody listened.

Daniel grabbed the document.

“This signature isn’t mine.”

Nathan leaned closer.

“It looks very similar.”

“Because somebody copied it.”

Rachel laughed once.

A strange, brittle sound.

“This is ridiculous.”

Daniel pointed at her.

“You forged my signature.”

“I didn’t forge anything.”

“Then why am I listed?”

“I don’t know.”

“You filed it!”

Richard stepped between them.

“That’s enough.”

He turned toward Nathan.

“Can you trace the bank authorizations?”

“Yes.”

“How long?”

“I can access the corporate banking archive now.”

Rachel moved.

Not toward her chair.

Toward the hallway.

I noticed first.

“Where are you going?”

She stopped.

“Bathroom.”

“No.”

Her head snapped toward me.

“Excuse me?”

“You haven’t needed the bathroom for the last hour.”

“Claire, you don’t tell me where I can go in my parents’ house.”

Richard looked at Rachel.

“Give me your phone.”

“What?”

“Your phone.”

She laughed.

“You’ve lost your mind.”

“Give it to me.”

“Dad—”

“Now.”

Rachel’s hand tightened around her phone.

Then the device buzzed.

One notification appeared on the screen.

I couldn’t read it from across the table.

Grant could.

His eyes narrowed.

“Who is Marcus Lane?”

Rachel locked the screen.

“Vendor.”

Grant held out his hand.

“Show me.”

“No.”

“Show me.”

“Grant, stop.”

Her husband’s face hardened.

“You used my name to run a business I knew nothing about. You lied about a warehouse. You stole inventory from my family. You’re going to show me the damn message.”

She backed away.

Then Daniel’s phone buzzed.

He looked down.

Another secure file had been delivered.

This one had been scheduled by me to send automatically at 6:20 p.m.

Daniel opened it.

And his face went white.

“What?”

Richard demanded.

Daniel looked at me.

“What is this?”

My throat tightened.

Because I had hoped we wouldn’t need the third file.

It was a bank transfer report.

Three years of money leaving Carter Commercial Resale.

Not going to Rachel.

Not going to Grant.

Going to a company in Delaware called ML Strategic Holdings.

Grant stared at the initials.

“M.L.”

Then he looked at his wife.

“Marcus Lane.”

Rachel said nothing.

Grant’s voice cracked.

“Who the hell is Marcus?”

Rachel’s phone buzzed again.

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