Chapter 3 - MY MOTHER'S SIGNATURE
Victor believed me immediately.
That scared me.
“Why aren't you surprised?”
We were in his office overlooking the East River.
“Because Caldwell has been buying distressed properties too cheaply for five years.”
“And nobody investigated?”
“People investigated.”
“What happened?”
“Cases disappeared.”
“People don't disappear.”
Victor looked at me.
“Sometimes they do.”
I remembered the stories about him.
“Is that a threat?”
“No.”
“Then stop talking like Batman.”
He almost smiled.
We compared signatures.
My mother's forged signature appeared on three documents.
One transferred tenant rights.
Another acknowledged a payment we never received.
The third claimed she had no surviving children.
Victor stared at it.
“That matters.”
“Why?”
“Because your building sits in the center of Caldwell's development footprint. Tenant claims could delay demolition for years.”
“So they erase us.”
“On paper.”
My phone rang.
Mateo.
“Anna, somebody broke into the apartment.”
We ran.
Nothing expensive was missing.
The television remained.
Mateo's laptop remained.
My mother's jewelry remained.
Only one thing was gone.
A cardboard box containing her old paperwork.
Victor crouched beside the empty closet.
“What was inside?”
“Tax returns. Hospital bills. My father's documents.”
“Your father?”
“My dad left when I was twelve.”
“Name?”
“Luis Martinez.”
Victor went still.
“What?”
He looked at me.
“I know that name.”
Luis Martinez had been a structural engineer.
Twenty years earlier he had worked on a Caldwell development in Queens.
Then he disappeared.
My mother always told us he abandoned us.
Victor's investigator found something else.
Luis had become a whistleblower.
He had accused Richard Caldwell of bribing inspectors to approve unsafe buildings.
The case vanished.
So did Luis.
That night Victor drove me home.
“You shouldn't stay there.”
“It's my home.”
“Someone entered it.”
“And?”
“And they may return.”
“Victor, I'm not moving into one of your penthouses.”
“I own several other types of property.”
I stared at him.
“That might be the most billionaire sentence ever spoken.”
He laughed.
Actually laughed.
It changed his face completely.
Then a black SUV accelerated toward us.
Victor saw it first.
He grabbed me.
We hit the sidewalk.
The SUV smashed into his parked car and kept going.
Victor covered me with his body.
Glass rained down.
When everything stopped, he lifted his head.
“You hurt?”
“No.”
He looked toward the disappearing SUV.
His expression changed.
The man from Table 23 returned.
Cold.
Controlled.
Dangerous.
“Now,” he said, “you're moving.”
May you like
For once, I didn't argue.
---
