Chapter 6 - The Signature That Could Send Me to Prison
“That isn't my signature.”
Dashiell stared at the document Nathan had retrieved from the archive system.
His name appeared at the bottom of a twelve-page agreement dated seven years earlier.
The document stated that Dashiell Mercer acknowledged the existence of potential descendants from Thomas Mercer's line and agreed to keep related information confidential until the trust's next formal succession review.
He had never seen it before.
Yet the signature looked exactly like his.
Nathan studied the page.
“The date matches your first year as foundation chairman.”
Dashiell remembered the year clearly.
His father had suffered a heart attack.
The company had been fighting a hostile acquisition.
And Dashiell had signed hundreds of documents while trying to keep both the business and his family together.
He looked at Merrick.
“You slipped this into something else.”
The attorney's expression remained guarded.
“You signed a large number of documents that year.”
“Did you show me this one?”
Merrick didn't answer.
Dashiell felt anger building.
“You've spent decades protecting my father. Now you're going to tell me whether he used my name to continue hiding his own brother.”
Merrick looked toward the window.
“Charles believed the company would collapse if Thomas's family came forward.”
“Why?”
“Because of what the original trust actually required.”
Maris stood.
“I'm tired of hearing about your company.”
Dashiell turned.
She was trembling.
“My mother died thinking nobody wanted her. My grandfather spent eleven years locked away. And all you can talk about is what might happen to a corporation?”
Dashiell lowered his head.
“Maris, you're right.”
She shook her head.
“I don't want to be right.”
Poppy was asleep on the couch now, curled around her rabbit.
Maris looked at her.
“I just want my daughter to grow up without people deciding she's worth less because of where she comes from.”
Dashiell looked at the little girl.
Then he made a decision.
“Nathan, get Maris and Poppy a car. Take them anywhere they feel safe.”
Maris stiffened.
“I don't need charity.”
“This isn't charity. Your daughter helped me tonight, and my family's attorney had your belongings searched. At the very least, I owe you safe transportation.”
She studied him.
Then nodded reluctantly.
“Thank you.”
He turned back toward Nathan.
“And contact an independent attorney for Ms. Reyes. Someone with no connection to Mercer-Hawthorne.”
Merrick stepped forward.
“Dashiell, that would be extraordinarily unwise.”
“Good.”
Dashiell looked directly at him.
“I've spent too many years taking advice from you.”
Corinne remained near the door.
She had barely spoken since the forged document appeared.
Now she approached him carefully.
“Dash, there's something about that signature.”
He looked at her.
“What?”
“I've seen Merrick use it before.”
Nathan turned.
“When?”
Corinne swallowed.
“Three months ago. At his office.”
Dashiell felt cold.
“What was he signing?”
“I didn't see the document. But he had a digital image of your signature.”
Merrick's face hardened.
“That was for authorized correspondence.”
Corinne shook her head.
“You told your assistant to make sure the date looked old.”
Dashiell stared at Merrick.
The attorney said nothing.
Nathan quietly photographed the document.
Then Dashiell spoke.
“You're not leaving this hotel until law enforcement has been notified and your account of tonight is recorded.”
Merrick looked tired.
“I expected you to say that.”
“Then you should have prepared a better explanation.”
The attorney sighed.
“You still think I'm your enemy.”
Dashiell almost laughed.
“You arranged my engagement, manufactured an heir, and apparently forged my signature.”
“Yes,” Merrick said quietly. “And I did all of it because Charles Mercer left me with something I couldn't fix.”
“What?”
Merrick looked at Maris.
“A promise.”
She stared at him.
“To whom?”
“Your grandfather.”
For a moment, nobody moved.
Then Merrick continued.
“Thomas knew your grandmother had arranged his confinement. He knew Charles had helped. But he also knew that publicly exposing them would cause the trustees to freeze the foundation's charitable programs.”
Dashiell frowned.
“So he stayed silent?”
“He agreed to a settlement in exchange for protections for Lena.”
Maris's face tightened.
“What protections?”
“An education fund. Housing. Medical assistance.”
Maris shook her head.
“My mother worked nights cleaning office buildings.”
Merrick looked away.
“The funds were diverted.”
“By whom?”
The attorney swallowed.
“Charles.”
Dashiell felt sick.
His father hadn't merely concealed the truth.
He had stolen money intended to repair the harm he'd helped cause.
“And you knew?”
Merrick nodded.
“I discovered it years later.”
“Why didn't you stop him?”
“Because by then Charles had made sure I was implicated.”
Dashiell stared at the forged agreement.
He understood the pattern.
His father had trapped Merrick.
Merrick had trapped Corinne.
And now somebody was attempting to trap Dashiell.
Each person had passed the harm along to someone with less power.
The room fell silent.
Then Maris spoke.
“If Thomas agreed to protect Lena, there should be something proving it.”
Merrick nodded slowly.
“There was.”
“Where is it?”
The attorney looked at Nathan's tablet.
“Your mother's pocket watch.”
Dashiell frowned.
“A watch?”
“Eleanor believed Charles would destroy the original settlement if he found it. She made a microfilm copy.”
Nathan looked up.
“Inside the watch?”
Merrick nodded.
“She had a jeweler alter the back.”
Dashiell felt his heart pounding.
The watch his mother had left him wasn't simply a family keepsake.
It carried evidence.
Evidence someone had spent decades hiding.
He ordered Nathan to retrieve the watch from the foundation's secure archive.
But Maris stepped forward.
“No.”
Everyone turned.
She looked at Dashiell.
“We go together.”
He hesitated.
“Maris—”
“No more rooms I'm not allowed into. No more men telling me what's best for my family.”
Dashiell studied her.
Then nodded.
“Together.”
Twenty minutes later, they arrived at the foundation's private archive inside the Mercer-Hawthorne building on Madison Avenue.
Nathan unlocked the storage cabinet.
Inside was the oak jewelry box.
Dashiell lifted its lid.
The gold pocket watch lay exactly where it appeared in the inventory photograph.
He picked it up.
His mother's initials were engraved on the back.
E.M.
His hands trembled as he pressed the release.
The watch opened.
The hands had stopped at 8:17.
Behind the inner cover was a narrow compartment.
Dashiell carefully lifted it.
Inside lay a tiny roll of microfilm.
And beneath it, a folded note in his mother's handwriting.
He unfolded the paper.
My darling Dashiell,
If you're reading this, I failed to tell you something while I was alive.
Please forgive me.
But before you judge your father, you must know what happened on the night Thomas was taken away.
Dashiell stopped breathing.
May you like
The final line was underlined twice.
Because I was there.
