Chapter 2 - The Signature That Wasn't Mine
“WHAT DO YOU MEAN MY MOTHER FORGED MY SIGNATURE?”
My voice came out sharper than I intended.
Chloe flinched.
Ethan immediately closed the side-room door, giving us privacy.
Outside, our engagement party was quietly ending.
Inside, my sister had just suggested that our mother might have committed financial fraud.
Chloe sat on the edge of a chair.
“About three weeks ago, Mom brought some documents to my apartment.”
“What documents?”
“She said you had agreed to help me with my debts.”
I stared at her.
“I never agreed to anything.”
“I know that now.”
Chloe opened her handbag and removed a folded sheet of paper.
It was a photocopy of a financial transfer authorization.
At the top was the name of the institution managing the investments I had purchased with my father's death benefits.
The requested amount was $300,000.
My hands turned cold.
Three hundred thousand dollars.
Almost everything I had spent six years protecting.
Near the bottom of the document was a signature.
Natalie Carter.
It looked remarkably similar to mine.
But it wasn't mine.
I knew immediately.
I had changed the way I formed the letter C after suffering a hand injury during training several years earlier.
The forged signature used my older style.
Someone had copied it from an outdated document.
Ethan examined the page without touching anything unnecessarily.
“Where did you get this?”
Chloe stared at the floor.
“Mom left it on my kitchen counter. I made a copy because something felt wrong.”
“Why didn't you tell me?”
Her voice broke.
“Because I wanted the money.”
The admission landed painfully.
At least she wasn't pretending otherwise.
“I thought you had finally agreed to help me,” she continued. “Mom said Ethan was rich and you didn't need Dad's money. I wanted to believe her.”
I sat back down.
For most of our lives, Chloe had treated consequences as temporary inconveniences.
Whenever she made a mistake, someone rescued her.
Usually me.
But looking at her now, I saw something unfamiliar.
Shame.
“Did Mom submit the paperwork?” I asked.
“I don't know. She said everything would be settled by Monday.”
Monday.
Two days away.
I immediately opened my banking application.
The balance appeared unchanged.
But that didn't prove no transfer was pending.
Ethan suggested contacting the institution's fraud department directly through its official number.
I did.
After verifying my identity, a representative confirmed that a transfer request had been received but was being held for additional authentication.
I felt sick.
Someone had genuinely attempted to move my money.
I explained that I had never authorized the transaction.
The representative documented the dispute, blocked the pending request, and began the institution's formal fraud procedures.
She also recommended that I contact an attorney immediately.
I already knew whom to call.
Helena Brooks had handled several legal matters involving my father's estate.
She had known him for almost twenty years.
When Helena answered, I explained what had happened.
There was a long silence.
Then she said:
“Natalie, I need you to send me that document through a secure channel. Don't confront your mother about the signature tonight.”
“Why?”
“Because if this is what it appears to be, we may be dealing with more than an attempt to take your money.”
I looked at Chloe.
“What else could there be?”
Helena hesitated.
“Your father left very clear instructions about his insurance beneficiaries. Nobody can simply decide that your sister deserves your portion instead.”
“I know.”
“But your mother contacted my office last month requesting copies of several estate-related records.”
My stomach dropped.
“What records?”
“Old identification documents. Signature samples. Information about your father's beneficiary designations.”
I stared at the paper in my hand.
“Did you give them to her?”
“Nothing confidential. I told her she wasn't authorized to receive those records. But she was unusually persistent.”
Chloe covered her mouth.
Ethan quietly moved closer.
Helena continued.
“I want you in my office tomorrow morning. Bring the photocopy. We also need to review the paperwork surrounding the charitable foundation your mother established in your father's name.”
I frowned.
“The Carter Families Foundation?”
“Yes.”
My mother had started the nonprofit three years after Dad died.
Its supposed purpose was to provide scholarships and emergency assistance to children of fallen service members.
I had attended its opening ceremony.
Afterward, I had deliberately stayed away because Patricia constantly used my father's reputation to pressure donors.
Still, I believed the organization had helped families.
“Why would the foundation matter?” I asked.
“We'll discuss that tomorrow.”
After the call, Chloe began crying quietly.
“Natalie, I'm sorry.”
I wanted to comfort her.
That instinct was almost automatic.
But I resisted.
“Chloe, I need you to understand something.”
She looked up.
“I love you. You're my sister. But I won't sacrifice my future to protect you from every bad decision.”
She nodded.
“And if you've participated in anything illegal, you need to tell the truth.”
Her eyes widened.
“I didn't forge your signature.”
“Then help us find out who did.”
Ethan walked Chloe to the door, arranged a safe ride for her, and returned to my side.
I stared at the photocopy.
Then something caught my attention.
Beneath the forged signature was a second name.
The witness field had been completed.
I leaned closer.
My breath caught.
“Ethan.”
He turned.
“What is it?”
I handed him the paper.
His expression changed as he read it.
Because the document didn't contain only my forged signature.
It also contained his.
May you like
And directly beneath his name was a date when Ethan had been thousands of miles away on an official military assignment.
Someone had forged both our signatures.
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