Chapter 12 - The Man Behind the Forgery
“YOU WATCHED SOMEONE COPY MY SIGNATURE, AND THEN YOU STOOD BESIDE ME AT OUR WEDDING AND PROMISED NEVER TO BETRAY ME?”
Evan sat across from me in a private conference room at a law office in Norfolk.
I had refused to meet him alone.
Not because I believed he would physically hurt me.
Because I no longer trusted our conversations to remain accurate after the fact.
His attorney was present.
So was mine.
Neither attorney spoke while I finished my question.
Evan stared at his hands.
“Yes.”
The word sounded almost too small for what it contained.
I forced myself to remain calm.
“Explain exactly what you witnessed.”
He swallowed.
“The contractor's legal coordination team was assembling supplemental materials after the first investigation meetings.”
“Who was involved?”
“Martin Voss. A records coordinator. Two attorneys. Me.”
“Were you authorized to obtain my signature?”
“No.”
I closed my eyes.
“Then why was it on the statement?”
Evan took a shaky breath.
“One of the coordinators had a scanned copy from an earlier document.”
“Did you see someone place it on the supplemental statement?”
“Yes.”
I stared at him.
“And you said nothing?”
“I objected.”
I raised my eyebrows.
“You objected?”
“Yes.”
“What did you say?”
“I told them the statement couldn't be submitted as Lauren Barrett's if she hadn't reviewed it.”
“And what happened?”
“Voss said it was an internal working draft.”
I felt anger rise.
“Did you believe him?”
“At first.”
“Did you learn it was being treated as authentic?”
“Yes.”
“When?”
“Several weeks later.”
“And did you report it?”
He looked down.
“No.”
I sat back.
There it was.
The simplest part of the entire story.
The part every excuse eventually led back to.
He knew.
And he remained silent.
My attorney, Claire Morgan, leaned forward.
“Mr. Maddox, have you provided this information to the appropriate investigators?”
“Yes.”
“Have you identified everyone present?”
“Yes.”
“Have you preserved any supporting communications?”
“My attorney has arranged to provide what I retained.”
Claire nodded.
“Then let's keep this conversation focused on what Mrs. Maddox needs to understand about her own history.”
Evan looked at me.
His eyes were red.
“I know you hate me.”
I shook my head.
“No.”
He seemed surprised.
“I don't hate you, Evan.”
His face crumpled.
For a moment, he looked hopeful.
Then I continued.
“But I no longer feel safe trusting you.”
His expression changed.
I could almost see him realizing that hatred would have been easier to survive.
Hatred suggested passion.
Passion suggested something might still be repaired.
What I felt now was grief combined with clarity.
“I need to know why you married me,” I said.
He took a long breath.
“Because I fell in love with you.”
“After you knew what happened?”
“Yes.”
“After you knew someone had misused my signature?”
“Yes.”
“Did you ever intend to tell me?”
He hesitated.
“At first, I told myself I would.”
“And then?”
“Every time I tried, I imagined losing you.”
I looked at him.
“So you chose to keep me without giving me the truth I needed to decide whether I wanted to stay.”
He lowered his head.
“Yes.”
My voice softened.
“That wasn't love protecting me, Evan. That was fear controlling my choices.”
Tears fell onto his hands.
“I know that now.”
We sat in silence.
Finally, he looked up.
“I'll cooperate with every investigation. Whatever happens to me, I won't lie again.”
I studied him.
“That matters.”
He nodded.
“But it doesn't mean I can forgive you today.”
“I understand.”
“And it doesn't mean our marriage can survive.”
His eyes closed.
“I understand.”
For the first time, I believed he did.
After the meeting, Claire walked me to my car.
“You handled that well,” she said.
“I don't feel like I did.”
“You don't have to feel strong every minute.”
I looked toward the street.
“Do you think his cooperation will help?”
“That's for investigators to evaluate.”
She paused.
“But coming forward truthfully is better than continuing to conceal evidence.”
I nodded.
Claire studied me.
“Have you decided about the marriage?”
“Not officially.”
“Take the time you need.”
I thanked her.
As I drove away, my phone rang.
Graham.
I answered.
“Lauren?”
His voice sounded strained.
“What's happened?”
“Chase is missing.”
I frowned.
“What do you mean?”
“He left his apartment yesterday. His phone is off. His attorney hasn't been able to reach him.”
I felt my stomach tighten.
“Has anyone contacted the police?”
“Yes.”
“Was he under any restriction preventing travel?”
“Not that I know of.”
I pulled over.
“Graham, don't jump to conclusions. He may be avoiding everyone.”
“I know.”
But his voice shook.
“There's something else.”
“What?”
“He left a letter.”
“To whom?”
“Me.”
“What does it say?”
Graham hesitated.
“He says Martin Voss is going to blame him for everything.”
I looked out at the traffic.
“Does he admit wrongdoing?”
“Yes.”
My pulse quickened.
“He says he altered the timestamp, but someone else entered the original approval.”
“Who?”
“He doesn't name the person.”
“Then investigators need the letter.”
“They're getting it.”
“Good.”
Graham took a ragged breath.
“Lauren, I know what Chase did to you. I know he's responsible for his choices.”
I remained quiet.
“But he's still my son.”
My anger softened.
“I know.”
“I'm frightened.”
I closed my eyes.
“Then keep working with the authorities. Don't try to protect him by hiding anything.”
“I won't.”
We ended the call.
That night, I couldn't sleep.
I thought about Chase.
His arrogance.
His cruelty.
His fear.
Nothing excused the way he'd treated me.
Nothing erased the possibility that he'd helped falsify records after a serious accident.
But I didn't want him hurt.
Accountability wasn't the same as vengeance.
I wanted him to tell the truth.
I wanted him to face appropriate consequences.
And I wanted him to have the chance to become someone better afterward.
At 6:42 the next morning, Graham called again.
“They found Chase.”
I sat upright.
“Is he all right?”
“Yes.”
“Where was he?”
“At a motel outside Richmond.”
I exhaled.
“Thank God.”
Graham's voice trembled.
“He contacted his attorney and agreed to return.”
“That is good.”
“He says he has evidence.”
I went still.
“What kind?”
Graham took a breath.
“A recording from a meeting with Martin Voss.”
My heart quickened.
“Has he given it to investigators?”
“His attorney is arranging that now.”
“Good.”
Graham hesitated.
“Lauren, the recording may explain why Chase has been terrified all these years.”
I looked toward the window.
“What did Voss say?”
May you like
Graham swallowed.
“He told Chase that if the original inspection failure became public, the company would make sure your rescue flight was blamed for Daniel Kerr's injuries.”
