Chapter 3 - My Father’s Signature
My father answered on the fourth ring.
“Lauren?”
“Did you witness a corporate authorization for Andrew?”
Silence.
That was enough.
“Dad.”
“Where are the girls?”
“Safe.”
“Good.”
“Answer me.”
He exhaled.
“I witnessed something.”
“When?”
“Last October.”
“What did Andrew tell you?”
“That you needed temporary financing authority while restructuring one of your development projects.”
“And you believed him?”
“He had paperwork.”
“You signed without calling me?”
Another silence.
My father was a retired commercial banker.
He knew better.
That made it worse.
“I made a mistake.”
“No. Tell me the part you’re avoiding.”
He hesitated.
“Andrew said you were having financial problems.”
I laughed once.
“He told you Vance & Horizon was failing?”
“He said you were embarrassed.”
“And you never asked me?”
“You’ve always handled everything yourself.”
There it was.
My independence had become Andrew’s camouflage.
He told everyone different versions of the same lie.
To his family, I was dependent on him.
To my father, I was secretly drowning.
To lenders, I had authorized him to pledge company assets.
Everyone received whatever version made Andrew useful.
“Send me everything he gave you.”
Twenty minutes later, my father forwarded the documents.
Most were forged.
One wasn’t.
A board resolution.
Real.
My general counsel confirmed it.
The resolution authorized a limited refinancing transaction six years earlier.
Someone had altered the date and attached it to Andrew’s documents.
That meant someone inside Vance & Horizon had helped him.
I called our general counsel, Evelyn Hart.
“Freeze all external financing authorizations associated with Andrew Vance.”
She didn’t ask why.
“Done.”
“Also audit every document containing my signature from the last eighteen months.”
A pause.
“How bad?”
“Potentially criminal.”
Another pause.
“I’m coming in.”
At 1:03 a.m., Andrew began calling.
I ignored him.
Then Patricia.
Ignored.
Then Andrew again.
Finally a text:
YOU MADE MY MOTHER LOOK LIKE A MONSTER.
I stared at it.
Not:
Are Sophia and Chloe okay?
Not:
I’m sorry.
His mother’s humiliation mattered more than his daughters’.
Screenshot.
Then another message arrived.
YOU HAVE NO IDEA WHAT YOU’VE JUST DONE.
I replied for the first time.
You’re right. Explain it.
Three dots appeared.
Disappeared.
Returned.
Then:
COME HOME ALONE.
No.
His next message arrived immediately.
THEN WHATEVER HAPPENS TO YOUR COMPANY IS ON YOU.
I stared at the screen.
There was my confirmation.
Andrew knew exactly what he had done.
At 1:26, Evelyn called.
“Lauren, we found something.”
“What?”
“The corporate seal used on Andrew’s documents is authentic.”
“I know.”
“No. You don’t understand.”
Her voice became quieter.
“It’s not your father’s copy.”
My stomach tightened.
“Which one?”
“The serial impression matches the seal kept in our executive archive.”
“Who accessed it?”
“We pulled the electronic log.”
I waited.
“Lauren…”
“Say it.”
“Your CFO.”
Rebecca Sloan.
My closest friend since college.
The woman who had helped me build Vance & Horizon from three employees to eighty-seven.
Then Evelyn added:
“She accessed the archive fourteen times.”
“How many documents?”
“We don’t know yet.”
“Why?”
“Because she resigned twenty minutes ago.”
I sat perfectly still.
Then my laptop chimed.
Rebecca had emailed me directly.
Subject:
DON’T TRUST MALCOLM REEVES.
May you like
The body contained only one sentence.
Andrew is lying to you, but he isn’t the person who started this.
