Chapter 2: The Signature That Wasn't Mine
I stared at the document until the numbers began to blur.
My name.
My address.
My signature.
And a transfer authorization for nearly five million dollars.
"That's impossible," I whispered.
Arthur sat opposite me.
"Tell me why.""
"Because I've never seen this document. I've never authorized a transfer. I've never even had access to that company's accounts.""
Alejandro finally found his voice.
"Arthur, this is ridiculous. You can't seriously expect her to understand corporate financial procedures.""
I turned toward him.
"Then explain it to me.""
He looked annoyed.
"Valeria, this isn't the place.""
"Funny. You had no problem discussing my personal life in front of half the restaurant.""
Camila crossed her arms.
"Maybe you should calm down. Getting emotional won't change what's written on that paper.""
I looked at her.
"Do you know what that money is?""
She lifted her chin.
"Obviously, I don't.""
"Then why are you defending him?""
Her lips parted.
For a moment, she looked genuinely uncomfortable.
Arthur placed a second document beside the first.
"Because someone has been paying for Camila's lifestyle with money taken from Bennett Group.""
He pointed toward the bracelet.
"That piece alone cost sixty-two thousand dollars.""
Camila instinctively covered it with her hand.
"That's a gift.""
"Yes," Arthur replied.
"Purchased with funds that were supposed to pay the salaries of three hundred employees.""
Her face flushed.
"That's a lie!""
"Then you won't mind explaining the payment records to investigators.""
Alejandro slammed his palm against the table.
"Enough!""
Several people turned toward us.
A waiter approached, clearly uncertain whether to intervene.
"Sir, is everything all right?""
Arthur didn't look away from Alejandro.
"No. But I suspect it will be shortly.""
The waiter quietly retreated.
Alejandro lowered his voice.
"Valeria, listen to me. You don't understand what's happening. This man is trying to manipulate you.""
I almost laughed.
There had been a time when those words would have worked.
A time when I would have searched his face for reassurance and accepted whatever explanation he offered.
But something had changed.
Perhaps it was the divorce.
Perhaps it was the photograph of Grace.
Or perhaps I had simply become tired of being the only person in the room who was expected to believe a liar.
"Then tell me one thing," I said.
"Why is my signature on a document I never signed?""
Alejandro looked at Arthur.
Not me.
That was my answer.
Arthur reached inside his coat and removed a business card.
"Valeria, I would like you to meet someone.""
A woman approached from the entrance.
She was in her early forties, dressed in a navy blazer, carrying a leather briefcase. Her dark hair was pulled into a tight bun.
"Ms. Valeria?"" she asked.
I nodded.
"My name is Rebecca Collins. I'm a forensic accountant.""
Alejandro went rigid.
Arthur continued.
"Rebecca has been investigating the company's financial records for six months.""
"Without my authorization?"" Alejandro snapped.
Rebecca placed her briefcase on the table.
"Actually, Mr. Morales, the board authorized the investigation after discovering irregularities in your department.""
Alejandro laughed nervously.
"You're wasting your time.""
Rebecca opened her briefcase.
"Perhaps. But then you should have no objection to answering a few questions.""
She placed several printed photographs on the table.
The first showed Alejandro entering a private office at 11:47 p.m.
The second showed Camila following him.
The third showed them carrying boxes from the company's financial archive.
My stomach tightened.
"What's in those boxes?"" I asked.
Rebecca looked at me.
"Original transaction records. Some of which disappeared shortly before Grace Bennett's death.""
Arthur's fingers tightened around his coffee cup.
"Did you find them?""
"Not all of them.""
She removed another photograph.
This time, it showed a storage unit.
The metal door was open.
Inside were filing cabinets, cardboard boxes, and a desk covered in papers.
"Three weeks ago, we located this storage facility under a company registered to a third party.""
Alejandro shook his head.
"I've never seen that place.""
Rebecca placed a final photograph in front of him.
It showed him standing outside the storage unit.
Same suit.
Same watch.
Same face.
He didn't say anything.
Camila took a step away from him.
"Alejandro, what is this?""
He ignored her.
Rebecca continued.
"We also recovered an email exchange between Mr. Morales and an unidentified recipient. The messages discuss transferring funds into an offshore account and using a secondary signature to authorize the transactions.""
"Who was the recipient?"" I asked.
Rebecca hesitated.
"We're still verifying the identity.""
Arthur leaned forward.
"But we know something else. The first fraudulent transfer was made using an account connected to your former marital home.""
My throat tightened.
"Our home?""
"Yes. The house you and Alejandro shared.""
I remembered the endless paperwork Alejandro used to bring home.
Tax forms.
Mortgage documents.
Insurance renewals.
He always asked me to sign things quickly.
Sometimes while I was preparing dinner.
Sometimes while I was half asleep.
He would place a pen beside the papers and kiss my forehead.
"Just administrative stuff, sweetheart.""
I had trusted him.
I had trusted him with everything.
"Did I sign something?"" I asked.
Rebecca looked at me carefully.
"We haven't established that.""
"But my signature is there.""
"Someone reproduced it.""
Alejandro finally spoke.
"She signed everything herself. I never forced her.""
I turned toward him.
"Then why didn't you tell me what I was signing?""
"Because you never cared about the business!""
The words came out too quickly.
Too loudly.
A nearby couple stopped eating.
I looked at him.
There he was.
The real Alejandro.
The man who had spent years treating my questions like inconveniences.
"You told me I didn't need to understand.""
"Because you didn't!""
Arthur stood.
"That's enough.""
Alejandro pointed at him.
"You have no right to interfere in my marriage.""
Arthur's expression hardened.
"Your marriage ended three days ago. And you lost the privilege of speaking for her a long time before that.""
For a moment, nobody moved.
Then Rebecca quietly gathered the documents.
"Ms. Valeria, I need to ask you something privately.""
I followed her toward a quieter section of the restaurant.
She lowered her voice.
"Did you ever give Alejandro access to your personal identification documents?""
"Yes. He handled our tax returns.""
"Did you ever authorize him to use your name for company-related matters?""
"No.""
"Did you have a personal bank account before your marriage?""
I nodded.
"My grandmother left me some money. It wasn't much. I used most of it to help Alejandro when he started his career.""
Rebecca's expression changed.
"How much?""
"About one hundred and twenty thousand dollars.""
She slowly closed her notebook.
"Do you remember when you transferred it?""
"Eight years ago. He said it was an investment opportunity.""
"Did you receive any ownership documents?""
I shook my head.
"He told me everything was being handled.""
Rebecca looked toward Arthur.
He had followed our conversation from a distance.
"Mr. Bennett," she called.
Arthur approached.
Rebecca spoke quietly.
"The original investment account may be connected to the fraudulent transfers.""
Arthur's eyes narrowed.
"Are you certain?""
"Not yet. But if the account was never closed, Valeria may have a legal interest in the company.""
I felt the floor shift beneath me.
"What company?""
Rebecca opened her tablet.
A document appeared on the screen.
The name at the top read:
*BENNETT INTERNATIONAL — ORIGINAL SHAREHOLDER REGISTER.*
Below it were three names.
Arthur Bennett.
Grace Bennett.
And mine.
I stared at the screen.
"Why is my name there?""
Arthur looked almost uncomfortable.
"Because eight years ago, Grace created a private investment partnership. Your money helped fund its first expansion.""
"Why didn't anyone tell me?""
"Because the shares were held through a trust.""
I looked at Rebecca.
"How many shares?""
She scrolled down.
"Twenty percent.""
I stopped breathing.
Twenty percent.
I had spent eight years believing the money my grandmother left me had simply disappeared into Alejandro's ambitious business plans.
But it hadn't.
It had purchased part of something.
Something valuable.
Something that now appeared to be at the center of a criminal investigation.
Arthur spoke softly.
"Grace wanted to tell you about it before she died.""
My eyes burned.
"Did she know me?""
"She knew more about you than you might imagine.""
"Why?""
Arthur looked down at the photograph he had brought.
"Because she was planning to meet you.""
I stared at him.
"When?""
"The day she died.""
A cold silence settled between us.
Rebecca suddenly checked her phone.
Then her face changed.
"Mr. Bennett.""
Arthur turned.
"What?""
"Someone has accessed the original shareholder records.""
"Who?""
Rebecca showed him the screen.
A login notification appeared.
The access had come from a private device.
Registered to Alejandro Morales.
But the timestamp was more disturbing.
It was three minutes ago.
While we had been sitting in the restaurant.
Alejandro had been accessing the company's files.
Arthur looked toward the entrance.
My ex-husband was gone.
So was Camila.
And on the table, beside my untouched glass of water, lay a small folded piece of paper.
I opened it.
There were only eight words.
*Ask Arthur what happened to Grace's missing phone.*
May you like
I looked up.
Arthur had gone completely pale.
