Chapter 7: My Dead Father's Signature
I read the signature three times.
Then I read the name beneath it.
*James Carter.*
My father.
The man who had taught me how to negotiate my first business contract.
The man who had built the foundation of Carter Global before handing me the company.
The man whose funeral I had attended eight years earlier.
His signature was unmistakable.
The long upward stroke of the J. The sharp angle beneath the C. The small flourish at the end.
I had seen it thousands of times.
On birthday cards.
On old company documents.
On the handwritten letters he used to leave on my desk.
But he had been dead for eight years.
I slowly lowered the laptop.
Rebecca noticed my expression.
“Evelyn?””
I turned the screen toward her.
She read the document.
Her face tightened.
“Where did this come from?””
“Daniel sent it.””
She examined the signature.
“Don't jump to conclusions.””
“Rebecca, my father died eight years ago.””
“I know.””
“He couldn't have signed this.””
“I know that too.””
Martin stood near the reception desk, watching us.
He had stopped pretending to be calm.
“What's the problem?”” he asked.
I looked at him.
“Why is my father's signature on this contract?””
Martin's eyes moved toward the laptop.
For a fraction of a second, his expression changed.
Then he recovered.
“Your father established the original company guarantees. His signature may have been carried forward from an earlier agreement.””
“An agreement dated three months ago?””
He didn't answer.
Rebecca closed the laptop.
“Martin, we need an explanation.””
He sighed.
“James had several standing authorizations before he died. Certain documents were designed to remain valid for future corporate transactions.””
I stared at him.
“My father never authorized anyone to sign contracts after his death.””
“You don't understand the structure.””
“Then explain it.””
Martin rubbed his forehead.
“Your father created a legacy trust. Certain assets were placed under a long-term management arrangement.””
I felt my stomach tighten.
I knew about the trust.
My father had established it when I was twenty-eight.
It held shares in the original Carter Aviation division, several properties, and a small collection of investments.
But it had never been connected to Project Nightfall.
“Who controls the trust?”” I asked.
Martin hesitated.
“Your father's estate administrator.””
“Who?””
He looked away.
I stepped closer.
“Martin. Who?””
He finally answered.
“Peter Lawson.””
The name hit me harder than I expected.
Peter Lawson.
The consultant whose company had appeared in the payment trail.
The man who had left Carter Global after an internal financial investigation.
And now the administrator of my father's legacy trust?
“That is impossible,” I said.
Martin shrugged.
“Your father appointed him.””
“When?””
“Shortly before his death.””
I shook my head.
“My father never mentioned Peter.””
“Not everything was discussed with you.””
I felt the anger rising.
“You're telling me a man I barely knew was appointed to manage my father's estate, and somehow that gave him the authority to use my father's signature on a contract?””
Martin looked at Rebecca.
“That's not what I said.””
“Then what did you say?””
Before he could answer, Rebecca's phone rang.
She listened for a moment.
Then she looked at me.
“It's Daniel.””
I put the call on speaker.
“Daniel, what did you find?””
“Evelyn, I checked the original digital file. The signature image was taken from an old document.””
“Which document?””
“Your father's 2016 shareholder authorization.””
I closed my eyes.
Daniel continued.
“Someone scanned the signature, removed the background, and inserted it into the Project Nightfall contract.””
Rebecca immediately began taking notes.
“Can you establish who edited the document?””
“I'm working on that. The document metadata identifies a workstation registered to Northstar Strategic Aviation.””
I looked toward Martin.
He was staring at the floor.
Daniel added something else.
“There's another problem.””
“Go ahead.””
“The contract references a trust account that still exists.””
I frowned.
“What account?””
“Carter Legacy Trust. The account was reopened seven months ago.””
My throat tightened.
“Who authorized that?””
“The request carries an authorization from the estate administrator.””
“Peter Lawson?””
“Yes.””
Rebecca stepped closer.
“Daniel, can you identify the current account balance?””
A pause.
“Approximately $41 million.””
I stared at the laptop.
Forty-one million dollars.
Money connected to my father's estate.
Money that had supposedly been untouched for years.
I asked, “Where did it come from?””
“Several transfers. Some originated from Carter Global subsidiaries. Others came from external companies.””
Rebecca looked at me.
“Evelyn, we need to contact the estate records office immediately.””
I nodded.
Then I turned toward Martin.
“Did you know my father's trust had been reopened?””
He looked up.
“Yes.””
The answer was so casual that I almost didn't understand it.
“You knew?””
“Yes.””
“And you didn't tell me?””
“It wasn't necessary.””
I stepped closer.
“Forty-one million dollars has moved through my father's trust, and you think it wasn't necessary to tell me?””
Martin raised his voice.
“Your father wanted this arrangement!””
“Stop using my father's name.””
The words echoed through the hangar.
Nobody moved.
I continued.
“My father spent his entire life protecting this company. He taught me never to sign anything I couldn't explain. He taught me that trust was earned, not inherited.””
I pointed at the contract.
“And you used his signature to put his daughter's company in the middle of a criminal scheme.””
Martin's expression hardened.
“You have no idea what your father was planning.””
I froze.
“What did you just say?””
Martin seemed to realize he had gone too far.
Rebecca stepped forward.
“Martin, I strongly advise you not to make further statements without counsel.””
But I couldn't stop looking at him.
“What was my father planning?””
Martin picked up his briefcase.
“Ask Peter Lawson.””
He walked toward the entrance.
This time, I didn't tell him to stop.
I was too busy staring at the name on the contract.
Peter Lawson.
The same man who had managed my father's trust.
The same man connected to the shell company.
The same man who apparently knew something about my father's final business arrangements that I had never been told.
My phone vibrated.
An unknown number.
I opened the message.
There was no greeting.
No explanation.
Just one sentence.
*Your father knew Project Nightfall would happen. He left you something in his old office.*
A second message appeared.
*Don't trust Martin. Don't trust Peter. And whatever you do, don't let Victor Sloane get the aircraft.*
I stared at the screen.
Then a final message arrived.
*The original document is in the locked drawer beneath your father's desk.*
I looked at Rebecca.
“Someone knows something about my father.””
She read the messages.
“Who sent them?””
“I don't know.””
“Can you call the number?””
I tried.
The phone rang once.
Then disconnected.
A moment later, the number became unavailable.
I looked toward the white jet.
For the first time that morning, I wasn't thinking about the aircraft.
May you like
I was thinking about my father.
And about the possibility that the man I had mourned for eight years had left behind a secret big enough to bring down everyone in that hangar.
