Chapter 10 - THE DOCUMENT I REMEMBERED
The signature was mine.
No digital forgery.
No copied image.
My handwriting.
My initials.
A notarized seal.
For the first time, fear moved through Arthur's face.
“Clare, think carefully.”
I stared at the document.
Founder Rights Waiver.
Six years earlier.
Queens.
I remembered the date.
Not because of the paperwork.
Because it was the night Matthew proposed renewing our vows after our first anniversary.
We had eaten takeout Thai food.
He had brought champagne.
There had been papers on the counter.
“Insurance documents.”
That was what he called them.
My stomach turned.
“I signed it.”
Arthur closed his eyes.
Matthew had prepared for this years ago.
My father read the pages twice.
“Can it invalidate her consent rights?”
“Potentially.”
Arthur looked grim.
“But there are problems.”
“What problems?”
“The waiver says Clare received independent legal advice.”
“I didn't.”
“It names an attorney.”
He pointed at a line.
MARTIN KEANE.
The name meant nothing.
“I've never met him.”
Arthur searched his phone.
Then frowned.
“What?”
My father asked.
“Martin Keane died five years ago.”
“Can we find his files?”
“Maybe.”
The Delaware hearing was set for the next morning.
Less than twenty hours.
If Cascade won, the core assets could still leave NexusCore.
By then, news of Matthew's suspension had leaked.
NexusCore shares in private secondary markets dropped sharply.
Customers called.
Employees panicked.
Reporters gathered outside.
My father's advisers wanted a statement.
Arthur wanted silence.
The board wanted reassurance.
I wanted sleep.
Instead, I went home.
Not the penthouse.
My childhood home in Greenwich.
The estate looked smaller than I remembered.
Maybe because I was no longer twenty-six.
My mother's roses still lined the driveway.
My chest tightened when I saw them.
Inside, nothing felt frozen in time.
Furniture had changed.
Paint had changed.
My father had changed.
But the photograph on the library mantle remained.
Me at twelve.
Missing front tooth.
Holding a debate trophy.
Mom laughing beside me.
I stared too long.
My father stood behind me.
“She kept your room.”
I swallowed.
“I don't deserve that.”
“Clare.”
“I know.”
I rubbed my forehead.
“Stop blaming myself.”
“Yes.”
“You make it sound easy.”
“No.”
He stood beside me.
“I make it sound necessary.”
Arthur called at 9:18 p.m.
“We found something.”
Martin Keane's former law firm had archived storage records.
One file concerned NexusCore.
A courier was retrieving it.
“At this hour?”
My father asked.
Arthur gave a dry laugh.
“Richard, you have apparently forgotten what your name does to business hours.”
Forty-eight minutes later, the file arrived.
Inside was a letter written by Martin Keane six years earlier.
Arthur read it once.
Then again.
He looked at me.
“This changes everything.”
The letter stated that Keane had refused to notarize my waiver because I was not present.
It further stated that Matthew Hayes had asked whether the document could be executed without my appearance.
Keane declined.
I stared at the notarized waiver.
“So the notary seal is fake.”
Arthur nodded.
“And the witness?”
He turned the page.
One witness had signed.
Lauren Thorne.
Six years ago.
May you like
I whispered the date.
“That was before Matthew told me he met her.”
