The signature looked exactly like mine.
Every curve.
Every letter.
Even the small flourish I had developed beneath the final letter of my surname.
But I had never signed the document.
Rebecca placed the copy on her desk.
"Do you recognize this?"
I leaned closer.
It was a transfer authorization dated six weeks before Owen's birth.
According to the document, I had agreed to relinquish my ownership interest in the holding company to an Ashford-affiliated entity.
I stared at the date.
Six weeks before Owen was born.
The same week Graham had told me he was traveling to New York for business.
The same week Vanessa had begun appearing in photographs beside him again.
"That's not my signature," I said.
Rebecca nodded.
"We'll have it examined."
"Who submitted it?"
"An administrative office connected to one of the holding company's subsidiaries."
"Who authorized it?"
"That's what we're investigating."
I looked at the paper.
For three years, Graham had accused me of marrying him for money.
Now someone had apparently forged my signature to take away the financial interest I hadn't even known existed.
The irony was almost unbearable.
Rebecca arranged for a forensic document examiner to review the authorization.
She also notified the appropriate corporate officers that I disputed the signature and requested that no transfer be completed while the matter was investigated.
I returned home determined to focus on Owen.
But Vanessa had other plans.
That evening, she appeared outside my father's house.
I was standing near the living room window when a white luxury SUV pulled into the driveway.
Vanessa stepped out wearing a cream-colored coat and dark sunglasses.
She looked as though she had come for a magazine photo shoot.
My father opened the front door before she could ring the bell.
"Can I help you?"
"I'm here to see Claire."
"She's unavailable."
Vanessa smiled.
"I think she'll want to hear what I have to say."
I stepped into the hallway.
"It's okay, Dad."
Vanessa looked past him.
Her smile widened.
"Claire. You look well."
I almost laughed.
I was wearing sweatpants, a loose sweater, and slippers.
My hair was pulled into a messy bun.
I had slept four hours.
And I had a newborn upstairs.
"What do you want, Vanessa?"
She glanced toward my father.
"Could we speak privately?"
"No."
Her smile faded slightly.
"Fine."
She opened her handbag and removed a small envelope.
"Graham asked me to give you this."
I didn't take it.
"His attorney can contact mine."
Vanessa sighed.
"Must you make everything so difficult?"
I looked at her.
"You're standing in my father's doorway, Vanessa. Nobody invited you."
She lowered her voice.
"Graham is trying to move forward with his life."
"Then he should."
"He doesn't want a public fight."
"Neither do I."
"Then stop investigating his businesses."
My stomach tightened.
There it was.
The real reason she had come.
I folded my arms.
"Why are you concerned about my financial interests?"
Vanessa's eyes narrowed.
"Because you're using them to punish him."
"No. I'm making sure nobody takes something that legally belongs to me."
She laughed.
"Claire, you were never part of his world."
"Then you should be delighted that I'm leaving it."
I turned toward the stairs.
Vanessa spoke again.
"Do you really think having his baby changes anything?"
I stopped.
Slowly, I turned back.
"My son has nothing to do with this conversation."
"He chose me."
I looked at her for a long moment.
Then I said, "Congratulations."
Her smile disappeared.
I stepped closer.
"You spent three years waiting for another woman's marriage to end. Now it has. Why are you still standing here?"
For the first time, Vanessa had no answer.
My father opened the door wider.
"I think it's time for you to leave."
She stared at me.
Then she turned and walked away.
The next morning, Rebecca called with an update.
"The document examiner found significant indications that the signature was not written by you."
I sat down.
"Can we prove who forged it?"
"Not yet."
"Does Graham know?"
"His legal team has been notified."
I closed my eyes.
"What happens now?"
"We continue gathering evidence."
Then Rebecca hesitated.
"Claire, there's something else."
"What?"
"Vanessa Cole appears to have been employed as a consultant by one of the companies involved in the attempted transfer."
I opened my eyes.
"What kind of consultant?"
"Corporate development."
I stared at the wall.
Vanessa had never mentioned working for the holding company.
Neither had Graham.
"Does that mean she had access to the documents?"
"Potentially. We're verifying the scope of her access."
I thought about her visit.
Her insistence that I stop investigating.
Her confidence that Graham would protect her.
And suddenly, I understood why she had been so interested in my divorce.
This wasn't only about Graham.
It was about money.
Three days later, Graham called from a number I didn't recognize.
I answered because I thought it might be Owen's pediatrician.
"Claire."
My entire body tensed.
"What do you want?"
"Did Vanessa come to your father's house?"
"Yes."
He swore under his breath.
"What did she say?"
"That you chose her. That I should stop investigating your businesses. That having your baby changes nothing."
Silence.
Then he said, "She shouldn't have gone there."
"No, she shouldn't."
"I'll handle it."
I almost laughed.
"You've been handling things beautifully so far."
"Claire—"
"Why does Vanessa have access to the holding company's records?"
He went quiet.
I waited.
Finally, he said, "She works with one of our corporate divisions."
"Did she know about my ownership interest?"
"I don't know."
"Did you authorize the transfer document?"
"No."
His answer came immediately.
For a moment, I didn't know what to believe.
"Then someone forged my signature."
"I know."
My grip tightened around the phone.
"You know?"
"Daniel told me yesterday."
"And?"
"And I'm looking into it."
I stared out the window.
"Graham, if someone used my name without permission, I expect the truth to come out."
"It will."
"Don't make promises you can't keep."
I ended the call.
That evening, Graham returned to the penthouse he had once shared with me.
Vanessa was waiting in the living room.
She wore a silk dress and held a glass of wine.
"You're late."
Graham removed his coat.
"Did you go to Claire's father's house?"
Vanessa paused.
"She told you?"
"Answer me."
"I wanted to help."
"By threatening her?"
Vanessa rolled her eyes.
"She is trying to take your company."
"She is investigating a document that contains a forged signature."
Vanessa's expression changed.
Only slightly.
But Graham noticed.
"Do you know anything about it?"
"Of course not."
He studied her.
"Then why did you tell Claire to stop investigating?"
"Because she's using the divorce to humiliate you."
Graham looked away.
For weeks, he had convinced himself that Claire was trying to punish him.
It had been easier than admitting what he had done to her.
But now the situation was becoming something he could no longer dismiss.
"Stay away from Claire," he said.
Vanessa set down her glass.
"Are you defending her?"
"I'm telling you to stay away from her."
"After everything we've been through?"
Graham looked at her.
"Claire nearly died giving birth to my son."
Vanessa's face hardened.
"And whose fault is that?"
The words hung between them.
Graham stared at her.
"What did you say?"
Vanessa looked away.
"Nothing."
But something had changed.
For the first time, Graham wondered whether the woman he had spent years choosing over his wife had ever truly cared about anyone except herself.
Two days later, Arthur summoned Graham to his private office.
The old man was standing beside the window when his grandson arrived.
"You wanted to see me?"
Arthur turned.
"Sit down."
Graham remained standing.
"Say what you need to say."
Arthur looked at him.
"Have you seen your son?"
Graham's jaw tightened.
"No."
"Why?"
"Claire won't allow it."
"You surrendered visitation."
"I know."
"You told her to leave the country."
"I know."
Arthur walked toward his desk.
"Then why are you angry that she's doing exactly what you asked?"
Graham said nothing.
Arthur placed a photograph on the desk.
It showed Claire holding Owen in the hospital.
She looked exhausted.
But she was smiling at her baby.
Graham stared at the picture.
"Where did you get that?"
"Claire allowed me to take it."
Graham reached toward the photograph.
Then stopped.
Arthur watched him.
"His name is Owen Mercer."
"I know."
"Do you?"
Graham looked up.
Arthur's voice hardened.
"You don't know what he weighs. You don't know whether he's healthy. You don't know what makes him stop crying. You don't know what his mother endured because you couldn't be bothered to leave Vanessa alone."
Graham's face went pale.
"Enough."
"No."
Arthur stepped closer.
"You wanted power. You wanted control. You wanted the woman you believed you loved. Now you have all three."
He pointed toward the photograph.
"But you don't have your family."
Graham looked down.
For the first time in years, he had nothing to say.
That night, Graham returned to the penthouse.
Vanessa wasn't there.
Her belongings were gone.
On the kitchen counter lay a short note.
I need some space. Don't look for me.
Graham read it twice.
Then his phone rang.
Daniel.
"We found something," the attorney said.
Graham straightened.
"What?"
"The transfer authorization was submitted using credentials associated with Vanessa's corporate consulting account."
Graham went completely still.
Daniel continued.
"And there's evidence that she attempted to redirect the ownership interest to an entity connected to her."
Graham stared at the empty penthouse.
"Where is she?"
"We don't know."
Then Daniel said something that made his blood run cold.
"Graham, there's another document you need to see."
"What document?"
"A financial authorization bearing Claire's signature."
Graham closed his eyes.
"Another forgery?"
"Possibly."
"What does it authorize?"
Daniel hesitated.
Then he answered.
"A transfer involving funds held for your son's benefit."