Chapter 4 - THE SIGNATURE HE COULDN'T EXPLAIN
“Why does this say I'm surrendering ownership of my father's workshop?”
Daniel stared at the paper in his hand.
For several seconds, he looked like a man trying to remember which lie he'd told first.
“It's only a preliminary authorization.”
“Then why is my name on it?”
“Because you and Henry operate the business together.”
“That doesn't answer my question.”
Noah stepped forward.
“Daniel, did Claire authorize anyone to negotiate away her interest in Bennett Workshop?”
Daniel's face reddened.
“This is a family matter.”
“It became a business matter when you submitted her designs to my company.”
“Stay out of it, Walker.”
I raised my hand.
“Both of you, stop.”
They fell silent.
I turned back to Daniel.
“Did you show my father this entire document?”
“He understood what we were trying to accomplish.”
“Did you explain that Olivia would own the design rights?”
Daniel looked away.
And suddenly I understood.
He hadn't necessarily forged Dad's signature.
He might have persuaded a sick man to sign something without explaining what it meant.
The thought made me feel sick.
“I'm going to ask Dad myself,” I said.
“Claire, please.”
“Not another word until I know what he agreed to.”
Daniel reached for me.
I stepped back.
His hand remained suspended between us.
Seven years ago, I would have taken it.
Now I could barely stand looking at him.
By late afternoon, Dad was out of surgery.
The surgeon said the operation had gone well, although Dad would need close monitoring and a difficult recovery.
Mom cried with relief.
I sat beside her, still holding the small walnut box.
Noah had gone downstairs to bring us dinner.
He returned with sandwiches, tea, and the plain crackers my mother preferred when she was nervous.
Daniel used to complain that Noah was always trying too hard.
Watching him quietly place a warm cup in Mom's hands, I wondered when ordinary kindness had become something I was expected to distrust.
“Claire,” Mom said after Noah stepped away, “there's something you should know.”
I looked at her.
“About Dad?”
“About Daniel.”
She hesitated.
“Three months ago, your father told me he was worried about the workshop's finances.”
My stomach tightened.
“Why didn't he tell me?”
“Because Daniel promised to fix everything.”
I set down my sandwich.
“What does that mean?”
Mom twisted her wedding ring.
“Your father said Daniel had found an investor. Someone willing to pay for new equipment and help the workshop handle larger projects.”
“Olivia?”
“I don't know. Henry wouldn't discuss the details.”
“Did Dad give Daniel money?”
Mom looked miserable.
“He told me Daniel needed temporary access to the business account.”
I was already reaching for my phone.
Dad and I both had access to the workshop's banking records.
He'd always handled most of the paperwork himself, but my name was on the business account.
I signed in.
The account balance made my hands go numb.
We should have had enough operating cash to cover six months of expenses.
Instead, we barely had enough for two weeks.
I opened the transaction history.
There it was.
BENNETT WORKSHOP — BUSINESS ACCOUNT
April 22 — Hart Studio LLC
−$18,500.00
June 3 — Hart Studio LLC
−$12,700.00
August 19 — Hart Studio LLC
−$12,000.00
Total transferred
$43,200.00
Forty-three thousand two hundred dollars.
Gone.
The money Dad had saved through years of careful work.
Money we needed for salaries, supplies, and his recovery.
I walked into the hallway and nearly collided with Noah.
“Claire?”
I showed him the transactions.
He read them without speaking.
“Did you authorize these?”
“No.”
“Did Henry?”
“I don't know.”
He looked toward the intensive care unit.
“Then we need to protect whatever remains in the account.”
I nodded.
For the first time that day, I had something practical to do.
I contacted the bank's business fraud department, explained the suspected misuse of Daniel's access, and requested an immediate hold on further outgoing transfers initiated through his credentials.
Then I saved copies of the transaction records.
Noah watched quietly.
“You're handling this better than I would.”
I shook my head.
“No. I'm just trying not to fall apart before Dad wakes up.”
He didn't tell me to be strong.
He simply sat beside me.
That helped more than anything.
At six-thirty, Linda arrived.
She still wore the lavender dress she'd bought for the wedding.
“I heard about your father,” she said.
“How is he?”
“Recovering.”
She nodded, then looked down.
“Claire, I owe you an apology.”
“You didn't leave the wedding.”
“No. But I knew Daniel was lying about Olivia.”
My heart thudded.
“What did you know?”
Linda's eyes filled.
“I knew he was spending time at her office. I knew they were working together. He made me promise not to tell you because he said the project was supposed to be your wedding present.”
I laughed bitterly.
“A wedding present.”
“Claire, I thought he was finally doing something thoughtful.”
She reached into her handbag.
“I also found this.”
It was a small photograph.
Daniel and Olivia stood inside Dad's workshop.
Olivia was holding one of our walnut panels.
Behind them, pinned to the wall, were several of my original sketches.
The picture was dated May 2.
Linda's voice trembled.
“I took it because Daniel asked me to photograph the samples for a business presentation.”
I stared at the photograph.
Then I noticed something that made my heart sink.
Beside the sketches stood a large cardboard folder.
On its front, in Daniel's handwriting, were the words:
WALKER ACQUISITION — BENNETT WORKSHOP.
I looked at Noah.
“Why would Daniel think your company was trying to buy my father's business?”
Noah stared at the folder.
“Claire, we never tried to buy it.”
May you like
Then he added something worse.
“Six months ago, we offered your father a supplier partnership. Daniel told us Henry had rejected it.”
