Chapter 7 - Ryan's Signature
Ryan stared at the copies.
Wire authorizations.
Loan documents.
Property transfers.
His name appeared over and over.
“That isn't my signature.”
Samuel nodded.
“I know.”
“How?”
“Because I watched your mother practice it.”
The booth went silent.
Samuel told us that years earlier, Diane frequently entered the accounting office after hours.
At first, everyone assumed she was helping her husband.
Then Samuel began finding documents he hadn't prepared.
When he questioned her, she smiled.
A week later, Ryan's father told him to stop asking questions.
Two months later, Samuel was fired.
“I should have gone to police.”
“Why didn't you?” Ryan asked.
Samuel looked ashamed.
“Your father begged me not to.”
He slid another envelope toward us.
“He paid me severance and made me promise to leave your family alone.”
Ryan shook his head.
“He protected her.”
“Yes.”
“And she kept stealing.”
Samuel didn't answer.
He didn't need to.
On the drive back, Ryan barely spoke.
Finally, he pulled into a parking lot and shut off the engine.
“My entire life, she told me Dad was careless with money.”
I reached across the console.
“Ryan.”
“She told me she saved the company after he died.”
His eyes were wet.
“What if everything I believe about my parents is wrong?”
I squeezed his hand.
“You don't have to figure out your entire childhood today.”
He nodded.
Then his phone rang.
Company headquarters.
He answered.
His assistant sounded frantic.
“Ryan, we have a problem.”
“What happened?”
“Your mother is here.”
Ryan sat upright.
“Why?”
“She entered your office with two people from IT.”
“What are they doing?”
“I don't know.”
“Stop them.”
“I tried.”
The assistant lowered her voice.
“She showed security a power of attorney with your signature.”
Ryan looked at me.
“What power of attorney?”
“She says you signed it three years ago.”
Ryan swore.
“Call security.”
“They won't remove her because the document looks valid.”
Ryan started the car.
“Don't let her leave with anything.”
We reached headquarters twenty minutes later.
Diane was already gone.
Ryan's office had been opened.
His filing cabinet was empty.
His desktop computer remained.
But the external backup drive beside it was missing.
His assistant stood near the window.
“She took one box.”
“What box?”
“A gray archive box from the bottom drawer.”
Ryan went pale.
I had never seen that box.
Apparently, neither had he for years.
“What was in it?” I asked.
Ryan stared at the empty cabinet.
May you like
“My father's personal company records.”
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