Chapter 8 - THE SIGNATURE THAT WASN'T MINE
Grant flew to Miami the next morning.
Not to visit injured employees.
Not to speak with emergency responders.
To meet his attorneys.
Margaret called me before the meeting began.
“He's contesting the suspension.”
“Of course.”
“He claims you acted emotionally because of a marital dispute.”
I looked at the documents spread across the table.
“Then we'll respond with records.”
The trust's independent forensic accountants had already begun reviewing the suspicious transfer request.
They found more.
A series of consulting payments.
Inflated marketing invoices.
Unusual vendor reimbursements.
All routed through entities connected to Sloane Vance.
The total exceeded three million dollars.
Some payments were legitimate.
Others lacked supporting work.
And several appeared to have been approved using credentials that should not have been available to Grant's office.
Then came the forged resolution.
Margaret arranged for a document examiner to review it.
The examiner found inconsistencies between the signature and verified samples.
The digital metadata showed that the file had been created on a workstation assigned to Grant's executive assistant.
And the meeting it described had never occurred.
I sat alone after receiving the preliminary findings.
Six years.
Six years of believing that marriage meant shared responsibility.
I had trusted Grant with operational decisions because he seemed capable.
I had trusted him with my heart because he seemed devoted.
Now I was staring at evidence suggesting he had used both kinds of trust against me.
That evening, my phone rang.
Sloane.
I almost ignored it.
Then answered.
“Olivia.”
Her voice was soft.
“I think we should talk.”
“About what?”
“Grant.”
I waited.
She sighed.
“He's under a lot of pressure.”
I stared at the phone.
“So are eighty-seven people who spent the night in a hurricane shelter.”
Silence.
Sloane continued.
“I don't want this to become ugly.”
“Then you should cooperate with the investigation.”
Her voice sharpened.
“You don't understand what's happening.”
“Explain it.”
A pause.
Then she said something unexpected.
“Grant told me you were planning to sell the island.”
I frowned.
“What?”
“He said the trust was already transferring ownership.”
I sat up.
“To whom?”
Sloane hesitated.
Then whispered:
“To him.”
I looked at the forged resolution again.
And understood.
May you like
Grant hadn't been trying to steal only twelve million dollars.
He had been trying to acquire the island itself.
Related Stories
