Chapter 8 - THE FORGED SIGNATURE
Khloe’s attorney arrived before noon.
Rebecca Sloan was forty-six, sharp-eyed, and completely unimpressed by billionaire surnames.
Her first sentence to Marcus was simple.
“You are not my client.”
Marcus nodded.
“I understand.”
“If you say anything in this room, assume it may be used against you in civil litigation.”
“I understand.”
“If you attempt to move assets belonging to Mrs. Thorne, I will freeze everything you own before dinner.”
Marcus almost smiled.
“I believe you.”
Rebecca did not.
She opened a laptop.
The forensic accountant joined remotely.
Within two hours, they found the first problem.
Khloe’s twelve-percent voting stake had been placed into a temporary collateral trust.
The documents contained her signature.
It was an excellent forgery.
Almost perfect.
Almost.
Khloe stared at the screen.
“That isn’t mine.”
Rebecca enlarged the signature.
“How can you tell?”
“The K.”
Everyone looked at her.
Khloe pointed.
“My mother taught me to sign my name when I was eight.”
“She hated the way I made capital Ks.”
“So she made me practice them.”
“I never loop the top like that.”
Rebecca nodded.
“The handwriting examiner will determine the rest.”
Marcus stood near the window.
“I should have noticed.”
Khloe looked at him.
“Yes.”
He accepted it.
The accountant continued.
“There’s another issue.”
A spreadsheet appeared.
“Six hundred eighty million dollars in collateral was moved through three subsidiaries.”
Khloe frowned.
“Where?”
“Rossi Meridian.”
Marcus stared at the screen.
“That was the rescue financing.”
“No.”
The accountant clicked again.
“That loan was four hundred million.”
“This is separate.”
Richard Thorne’s name appeared on two authorization records.
Then another name appeared.
Isabella Rossi.
Rebecca leaned forward.
“And the final approval?”
The accountant enlarged the line.
Marcus Thorne.
Khloe felt her stomach turn.
Marcus walked closer.
“I signed this.”
“Yes.”
“But I never saw that amount.”
“You digitally authorized it.”
Marcus stared.
“That approval portal only displayed the summary page.”
Rebecca looked at him.
“And you approved nearly seven hundred million dollars without reading the underlying documents?”
Marcus’s expression hardened.
“I trusted my father.”
Khloe whispered, “And Isabella.”
No one spoke.
The accountant clicked to another page.
“There’s more.”
A transfer.
Thirty-eight million dollars.
Sent from a Thorne subsidiary.
Received by a holding company in the Cayman Islands.
Ownership hidden behind two layers.
Rebecca asked, “Can you identify the beneficial owner?”
“I already did.”
The next page loaded.
Rossi Meridian Nominee Services.
Then beneath it, a private trust beneficiary.
Richard Thorne.
Marcus stopped breathing.
“My father received thirty-eight million dollars?”
“Six weeks after Khloe’s shares were pledged.”
Marcus backed away from the screen.
Khloe watched him.
For the first time since the attack, his shock looked completely real.
Rebecca closed the laptop halfway.
“This is no longer simply marital misconduct.”
“This could be securities fraud, forgery, breach of fiduciary duty, and wire fraud.”
Marcus looked toward Khloe.
“I didn’t know.”
She believed him.
And somehow that made things worse.
Because a man who controlled billions had allowed everyone closest to him to use his blindness as a weapon.
His father.
His mistress.
Maybe others.
Khloe rested one hand over her baby.
“I want every transaction.”
Rebecca nodded.
“You’ll get them.”
Marcus said quietly, “So do I.”
Rebecca looked at him.
“Hire your own lawyer.”
Before anyone could continue, Julian entered.
He was holding a printed email.
“What now?”
Khloe asked.
Julian placed it on the table.
“Hospital IT traced the anonymous photo delivery.”
Marcus picked it up.
The courier order had been placed from an encrypted account.
But the payment card had a name.
Elaine Parker.
The event coordinator who had supposedly walked into the suite behind Marcus.
The only witness to the immediate aftermath.
Khloe looked toward Julian.
“Where is Elaine?”
Julian’s expression darkened.
May you like
“No one has seen her since last night.”
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