Chapter 8 - The Forged Signature
Julian stared at the crisp white paper held out by Attorney Sterling, his eyes widening in absolute disbelief. The signature at the bottom of the document was an exact, flawless replica of his own handwriting, down to the slight downward slope of the capital 'V'.
"This is a forgery," Julian growled, taking a threatening step toward the lawyer. "I never signed this document. I didn't even know your firm existed until three days ago!"
Attorney Sterling didn't flinch. He lowered the paper slightly, his expression remaining sickeningly calm as he adjusted his gold-rimmed glasses.
"Mr. Vance, courts rarely take emotional denials seriously, especially when accompanied by a notarized biometric seal," Sterling replied smoothly, tapping the corner of the paper where a small holographic stamp gleamed in the sunlight. "Mrs. Vance presented this to the high court registry yesterday afternoon, citing your alleged... mental instability following the disappearance of your first wife."
Emily stepped forward, her eyes locked onto the lawyer’s face with razor-sharp intensity. She didn't look at the paper; she looked at the man’s posture, the way his shoulders remained tense beneath his expensive charcoal suit, and the faint smudge of dark ink staining the side of his right thumb—the exact same ink used on Catherine’s hidden diary pages in the basement.
"You didn't just file paperwork for Victoria, did you, Counselor?" Emily’s voice was dangerously low, cutting through the foyer like a physical blade. "You drafted the original concealment plan two years ago when Catherine tried to leave."
Sterling’s polite smile faltered for a fraction of a second—a micro-expression so brief most people would have missed it. But Emily caught it.
"You use impressive imagination for a domestic servant, my dear," Sterling said smoothly, though a subtle edge crept into his tone. "Perhaps you should stick to polishing silver—or packing your vintage suitcase."
Julian snapped his head toward Emily, his dark eyes filled with a mixture of shock and desperate inquiry. "Emily, what are you talking about? What does he have to do with Catherine?"
Before Emily could answer, the heavy front doors creaked wider behind the lawyer. Footsteps clicked softly against the stone veranda, and a familiar, sweet voice drifted into the grand foyer.
"He has everything to do with it, Julian," Victoria purred.
Victoria stepped back into the sunlight, but gone was the terrified, weeping bride in the pink dress. She now wore a sharp, tailored white pantsuit, her blonde hair pulled back into a flawless, icy chignon. Her lips curled into a triumphant, mocking smile as she walked past the lawyer and stood face-to-face with her devastated husband.
"You were always so busy with the family accounts, darling," Victoria mocked softly, tilting her head. "You never noticed how easy it was to redirect the Vance estate into a blind trust—with Sterling as the primary trustee."
Julian lunged forward, his hands clenching into tight fists, but Attorney Sterling immediately stepped in front of Victoria, raising a small, discreet electronic device from his pocket.
"I wouldn't do that, Mr. Vance," Sterling warned softly, his thumb resting over a red button. "One press, and the local authorities receive an automated distress signal claiming domestic assault from Mrs. Vance. Given your history and the locked children in the cellar, I assure you, you won't see daylight again for a decade."
Julian froze, his chest heaving with suffocating rage. He looked at Victoria, then at the lawyer, realizing the absolute trap they had constructed around him.
Emily slowly stepped back toward the vintage suitcase, her fingers brushing the worn leather handle. Her mind wasn't focused on the legal trap or the forged signature. Her eyes were fixed on the heavy gold ring glittering on Victoria’s right index ring finger—a ring that hadn't belonged to Victoria, but to Catherine Vance.
"You're forgetting one small detail, Mrs. Vance," Emily said quietly, picking up the suitcase with a steady hand.
Victoria turned her head, her sharp blue eyes narrowing as she glared at the maid. "And what is that, little cleaner?"
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"The police didn't receive an automated signal from the lawyer," Emily said, a cold, confident smile touching the corners of her mouth. "Because I called them twenty minutes ago from the landline in the pantry."
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