Chapter 2 - THE SIGNATURE THAT SHOULDN'T EXIST
“Victoria, I asked you a question.”
Dominic Moretti stood at the head of the dining table, holding the paper his ten-year-old son had been forced to memorize.
“How long have you been threatening Ethan?”
Victoria wiped her cheeks.
“I'm not going to let you humiliate me in front of thirty-eight people over a misunderstanding.”
“A misunderstanding?”
Dominic glanced at the paper.
“You told my son you'd have his mother's dog put to sleep unless he announced that he wanted to leave his own home.”
“That's not what happened.”
“Then explain what happened.”
Victoria looked around the dining room.
Several guests lowered their eyes.
Others watched with the uncomfortable fascination of people witnessing a private disaster they would discuss for years.
“Dominic,” she whispered, “please don't do this here.”
He looked toward Ethan.
The little boy was clutching Buddy against his chest, his face buried in the dog's golden fur.
“You did this here,” Dominic answered.
His voice was quiet.
That made it worse.
I'd worked for Dominic Moretti long enough to understand that he rarely raised his voice.
In Connecticut, powerful businessmen spoke carefully around him. His companies owned warehouses, restaurants, transportation businesses, and properties across several states.
People also whispered about the dangerous world behind those legitimate businesses.
But standing in that dining room, I wasn't thinking about his reputation.
I was thinking about a frightened child who had spent weeks believing his father wanted a new family without him.
Dominic turned toward the guests.
“Dinner is over. My staff will arrange transportation for anyone who needs it.”
Nobody argued.
Victoria caught his sleeve.
“You can't send everyone home. These are our friends.”
“Then they'll understand why my son comes first.”
Helen Foster remained seated.
Her hands rested on a leather folder.
“Mr. Moretti,” she said carefully, “I think you should see the application before I leave.”
Victoria's face changed.
“Helen, that's confidential.”
“It's an application concerning his child.”
Dominic approached her.
“What application?”
Helen opened the folder.
“The residential placement request.”
She removed several pages.
I watched Dominic read the first sheet.
His expression tightened.
Then he turned another page.
“Ethan has never been diagnosed with a behavioral disorder.”
Helen looked uncomfortable.
“Miss Whitmore indicated that he was experiencing severe emotional difficulties.”
“He misses his mother.”
“That's understandable.”
“He's ten.”
Helen nodded.
“I agree. And after meeting him tonight, I believe the information we received needs to be reconsidered.”
Victoria stepped forward.
“You're making me sound like a monster.”
Helen looked at her.
“I'm explaining what was submitted.”
Dominic continued reading.
The report described Ethan as emotionally dependent, resistant to authority, and unable to adjust to changes in the household.
It stated that his attachment to Buddy prevented healthy grieving.
Then Dominic reached the section titled PARENTAL CONCERNS.
His jaw tightened.
“According to this, Ethan believes his mother is coming back.”
I remembered something.
Three weeks earlier, Ethan had brought me a photograph from his bedroom.
It showed Caroline sitting beside a lake, Buddy curled at her feet.
Ethan had asked whether keeping her picture on his nightstand was childish.
I'd told him no.
He'd looked relieved.
Now I understood why he'd asked.
“Mr. Moretti,” I said, “Ethan knows his mother died.”
Dominic looked at me.
“He talks about her,” I continued. “He remembers her. That's different.”
Victoria folded her arms.
“Anna is a housekeeper. She's not qualified to evaluate childhood trauma.”
“No,” I admitted. “But I know the difference between missing someone and believing they're alive.”
Dominic looked back at the report.
“Who wrote this assessment?”
Helen hesitated.
“The information was supplied by Miss Whitmore and submitted under the family's authorization.”
“Whose authorization?”
Helen turned to the final page.
“Yours.”
The room seemed to grow colder.
Dominic took the paper.
At the bottom was his name.
Dominic Anthony Moretti.
The signature was unmistakable.
For several seconds, he didn't speak.
Victoria watched him closely.
Then she said, almost gently, “You remember now, don't you?”
Dominic lifted his eyes.
“Remember what?”
“Six weeks ago. You told me Ethan needed more help than we were giving him.”
His expression shifted.
I saw recognition.
And that frightened me more than his anger.
“You said you'd research counselors and schools,” he replied.
“I did.”
“I never authorized a twelve-month placement.”
“You signed the paperwork.”
Dominic stared at the signature.
Victoria continued, “I was trying to take care of your son because you were too busy trying to take care of everything else.”
The accusation landed.
Because there was enough truth in it to hurt.
Dominic worked long hours.
Some nights, Ethan ate dinner without him.
Other nights, his father returned after the boy was asleep.
Victoria had stepped into that empty space.
And she'd used it.
Dominic looked toward his son.
“Ethan, come here.”
Ethan approached carefully, Buddy still in his arms.
His father crouched.
“Have I ever told you I wanted you to leave?”
The little boy shook his head.
“Then why didn't you come to me?”
Ethan stared at the carpet.
“Victoria said you'd be sad if I asked.”
Dominic closed his eyes.
“She said you were tired of me crying about Mommy.”
Something changed in Dominic's face.
He pulled his son close.
“Listen to me. I will never be tired of you missing your mother.”
Ethan began crying against his shoulder.
“And I don't want another family instead of you,” Dominic whispered. “You are my family.”
I looked away.
Across the room, Victoria was crying too.
But Dominic didn't release his son.
When Dr. Miller arrived twenty minutes later, the mansion was nearly empty.
The veterinarian examined Buddy in the sitting room.
The dog whimpered when she touched his injured hind leg.
Ethan gripped his father's hand.
“Is he going to die?”
Dr. Miller smiled reassuringly.
“Not from this injury, sweetheart.”
She explained that Buddy appeared to have a strained ligament and significant bruising. She wanted X-rays at her clinic the following morning to rule out a fracture.
“He needs rest, medication, and some patience,” she said.
Ethan's shoulders relaxed.
Then the veterinarian noticed Buddy's neck.
“Where's his collar?”
Nobody answered.
Dr. Miller frowned.
“The red leather one Caroline bought him?”
Dominic looked up.
“You remember it?”
“Of course. Caroline had the brass tag engraved herself.”
I remembered that collar.
Caroline had written Buddy's name on the front.
On the back were four words.
PLEASE BRING ME HOME.
Dr. Miller looked toward Dominic.
“Someone called my office this afternoon requesting an appointment to have Buddy euthanized.”
Ethan went rigid.
Dominic slowly stood.
“Who?”
“The caller identified herself as your fiancée.”
Victoria looked away.
Dr. Miller continued.
“I refused to schedule anything without examining him. He wasn't suffering from a terminal condition as far as I knew.”
Dominic faced Victoria.
“You told my son I'd agreed?”
She covered her mouth.
“I thought it would be kinder if he believed we had decided together.”
“Kinder to whom?”
She couldn't answer.
Dominic turned toward Helen.
“Cancel the placement request.”
“Immediately.”
“And send my attorney everything you received.”
Helen nodded.
Then she hesitated.
“Mr. Moretti, there's one difficulty.”
Dominic looked at her.
“The placement deposit has already been paid.”
“How much?”
“Forty-two thousand dollars.”
Victoria suddenly stopped crying.
Dominic frowned.
“From whose account?”
Helen opened another page.
“The payment authorization lists the Moretti Family Office.”
Dominic shook his head.
“My family office doesn't release funds without approval.”
Helen silently handed him the receipt.
He studied it.
Then he looked at Victoria.
Because beneath the payment authorization was a second signature.
His own.
May you like
And this time, Dominic whispered something that made my blood run cold.
“Anna... that isn't a forgery. I remember signing it.”
