Chapter 9 - The Signature That Should Not Exist
I stared through the glass at Luka while Claire’s words repeated inside my head.
Eight years ago.
Four months before I met Daniel.
A document existed authorizing Luka Moretti’s genetic material for something called Bennett Contingency M-17.
And my supposedly dead father had witnessed it.
Not a copied signature.
Not merely a typed name.
A fingerprint.
One that matched Gabriel Bennett’s old military medical records.
“Does Luka know?”
I asked.
Claire closed the folder.
“Not yet.”
“Why tell me first?”
“Because if that authorization is authentic, everything changes.”
“In what way?”
“It could mean Luka knew you were the intended recipient.”
“He said he didn’t.”
“I know.”
“Do you believe him?”
Claire’s face remained neutral.
“I believe evidence.”
“That isn’t what I asked.”
“No.”
Her answer came quietly.
“I don’t know what I believe yet.”
I looked outside again.
Luka stood on the terrace with both hands gripping the stone railing.
His head was lowered.
Rain had begun to fall.
He didn’t move.
For the first time since I met him, he seemed vulnerable.
That should have made me trust him more.
Instead, I found myself studying every moment between us.
The hospital.
The photograph of my father.
The birth certificate.
The safe house.
The nursery already waiting.
His instant recognition of M-17.
His knowledge of the hospital.
His knowledge of my pregnancy.
His father’s relationship with mine.
Had all of it been exactly what he claimed?
Or had Luka stepped into that hospital because he had been waiting for my daughter to be born?
The thought sickened me.
“I need to talk to him.”
Claire nodded.
“Not alone.”
I looked at her.
“I’m not afraid of him.”
“That isn’t the only reason.”
“What is?”
“If Luka has been set up, his first reaction matters.”
“You want to watch him.”
“Yes.”
“And if he hasn’t been set up?”
“Then we need to know that before you trust him with Isabella.”
That stopped me.
Every argument became simple when Isabella was involved.
I opened the terrace door.
Rain blew cold against my face.
Luka turned.
He immediately looked toward the house.
“Is she okay?”
“Isabella’s asleep.”
He relaxed slightly.
“What happened?”
I held the authorization form in front of him.
He looked at it.
Then at me.
“What is that?”
“You tell me.”
He took the paper.
His eyes moved down the page.
I watched everything.
The first flicker of confusion.
Then disbelief.
Then something closer to anger.
“No.”
“Your signature.”
“No.”
“Looks like it.”
“It isn’t.”
“You didn’t sign this?”
“No.”
“Eight years ago?”
“No.”
“Four months before I met Daniel?”
“No.”
“You never authorized your stored genetic material for Bennett Contingency M-17?”
“No.”
Claire stepped into the doorway.
“Mr. Moretti, take a closer look.”
He did.
His face hardened.
“They copied my signature.”
“Possible.”
“Not possible.”
He tapped the document.
“Certain.”
“How?”
“Because I know where they got it.”
Claire’s eyes sharpened.
“Where?”
Luka walked inside.
We followed.
He took a photograph from an old storage envelope in Vault 17.
A business contract.
His signature appeared at the bottom.
Same loops.
Same spacing.
Same sharp downward stroke in the M.
“The Moretti Foundation restructuring agreement.”
“When?”
“Eight years ago.”
“Exactly when?”
He checked.
“Three days before this M-17 authorization.”
Claire placed the two signatures side by side.
They were identical.
Not similar.
Identical.
“You’re right.”
She pointed.
“The ink pattern is digitally reproduced.”
Relief hit me.
Then disappeared.
Because one problem remained.
“My father’s fingerprint.”
Luka went silent.
“You said you hadn’t seen him since you were twenty.”
“That’s true.”
“Then how did his fingerprint get on a document eight years later?”
“I don’t know.”
I closed my eyes.
“Please stop saying that.”
“I genuinely don’t.”
“You told me you stopped looking.”
“I did.”
“Maybe you found him again.”
“I didn’t.”
“Maybe he contacted you.”
“He didn’t.”
“Maybe you’re protecting him.”
Luka stared at me.
“Why would I protect a dead man at the expense of his daughter?”
“Apparently nobody in my life had trouble doing exactly that.”
That landed.
He looked away.
I hated that I wanted to apologize.
I didn’t.
Claire examined the bottom of the page.
“There’s another possibility.”
“What?”
I asked.
“The fingerprint was taken from an existing record.”
“Can fingerprints be copied?”
“Yes.”
“Easily?”
“Not easily.”
“But possible?”
“Yes.”
Luka looked at Rafael.
“Who had access to Gabriel’s military records?”
Rafael’s face became grim.
“Adrian.”
“How?”
“Meridian acquired a government medical subcontractor in the late nineties.”
Claire swore softly.
“So they could have had biometric records.”
“Possibly.”
I looked between them.
“Then the fingerprint proves nothing.”
“It proves someone wanted the document to look as though Gabriel approved it.”
Claire corrected.
“That matters.”
“Why?”
“Because whoever created this wanted future investigators to believe your father was alive and participating.”
I felt cold.
“They planned for the document to be discovered.”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“To confuse responsibility.”
Luka’s voice was quiet.
“Or to turn Sofia against me.”
I looked at him.
He looked back.
Neither of us said anything.
For the first time, I understood how effective the conspiracy was.
They didn’t only hide evidence.
They manufactured distrust.
If Luka and I ever found the truth, the evidence itself would make us doubt each other.
That was intelligent.
Cruel.
And terrifying.
Rafael interrupted.
“I found something else.”
“What?”
Luka asked.
“The foundation agreement they copied Luka’s signature from was witnessed by Marianne Cole.”
My stomach tightened.
My godmother.
Again.
“Where is Marianne?”
Claire asked.
Rafael looked at me.
“She has a home in Beacon Hill.”
“Then we go there.”
Luka shook his head.
“No.”
I turned.
“Excuse me?”
“We don’t know whose side she’s on.”
“That’s exactly why we go.”
“She may alert Daniel.”
“She already arranged for me to meet him.”
“She may have done that under pressure.”
“Or willingly.”
Luka’s jaw tightened.
“Either way, we don’t walk into her house without a plan.”
I folded my arms.
“I’m beginning to hate the phrase we.”
His eyebrows lifted.
“You liked it at the hospital.”
“I was being chased barefoot.”
“Fair.”
Claire looked between us.
“I can request a formal interview.”
“No.”
I answered.
Everyone looked at me.
“If Marianne sees an attorney first, she’ll prepare.”
Claire nodded slowly.
“So what do you suggest?”
“I call her.”
Luka immediately objected.
“No.”
“You don’t control my phone.”
“Technically Rafael does.”
Rafael raised one hand.
“I prefer to stay out of this marriage-like argument.”
“It is not marriage-like.”
Luka and I said it at the same time.
Rafael looked amused.
Claire didn’t.
“You can call.”
She said.
“On speaker.”
We retrieved my phone from the signal pouch.
Forty-three missed calls.
Daniel.
My mother-in-law.
Unknown numbers.
News organizations.
One from Marianne.
Seven minutes ago.
My heart beat faster.
“She called me.”
Luka looked at the screen.
“Don’t call back from your number.”
Rafael brought a secure phone.
I dialed Marianne from memory.
She answered on the second ring.
“Hello?”
Her voice.
Warm.
Familiar.
The same voice that had comforted me when my mother died.
“Marianne.”
Silence.
Then a sharp inhale.
“Sofia?”
“Yes.”
“Oh, thank God.”
Her relief sounded real.
“Where are you?”
“I’m safe.”
“Daniel says Luka Moretti kidnapped you.”
“He didn’t.”
Another silence.
“I knew Daniel was lying.”
That surprised me.
“You knew?”
“He called me.”
“When?”
“An hour ago.”
“What did he want?”
“He wanted to know whether Gabriel ever gave me documents about the Bennett-Moretti trust.”
Luka motioned for me to continue.
“Did he?”
I asked.
Marianne stopped breathing.
“Sofia.”
“Answer me.”
“We should not discuss this over the phone.”
“That’s what everyone says before they hide something.”
“I’m not hiding.”
“You introduced me to Daniel.”
She went silent.
I closed my eyes.
“So you did know.”
“Your mother asked me to.”
Pain went through me.
“Why?”
“Not for the reason you think.”
“Then tell me the reason.”
“I can’t.”
“Can’t or won’t?”
“Can’t.”
“Why?”
Her voice dropped.
“Because somebody is inside my house.”
Everyone in the room froze.
“What?”
I whispered.
“I came home twenty minutes ago.”
Marianne spoke quickly now.
“The alarm was disabled.”
“My office door was open.”
“Are you alone?”
“I don’t know.”
Luka grabbed his jacket.
“Get her address.”
I already knew it.
“Marianne, leave.”
“I can’t.”
“Why?”
“My back door is open.”
“Then go through the front.”
“The front hallway light just turned off.”
A faint sound came through the phone.
A floorboard.
Marianne whispered.
“Sofia.”
“Yes?”
“There’s something I should have told you years ago.”
My heart pounded.
“What?”
“Daniel was never supposed to marry you.”
I stared at the phone.
“What are you talking about?”
“Your mother wanted you to meet him.”
“Yes.”
“But only because she wanted you close enough to learn what Adrian knew.”
“That makes no sense.”
“She thought Daniel could be turned against his father.”
“Was he?”
“No.”
Her voice broke.
“We were wrong.”
Another sound.
Closer.
Luka was already heading toward the door.
“Keep her talking.”
He whispered.
I nodded.
“Marianne, who is in your house?”
“I don’t know.”
“Call police.”
“I did.”
“No one came.”
“How long ago?”
“Twelve minutes.”
Claire’s expression changed.
“Someone intercepted the dispatch.”
She whispered.
Marianne continued.
“Sofia, listen.”
“I’m listening.”
“Your father was alive when you married Daniel.”
My knees nearly gave out.
“What?”
“He knew.”
“Who knew?”
“Gabriel.”
My vision blurred.
“You saw him?”
“Yes.”
“When?”
“The morning of your wedding.”
Everything inside me stopped.
“He came to the church?”
“Not inside.”
“He watched from across the street.”
My mouth opened.
Nothing came out.
“He was there?”
“Yes.”
“He watched me marry Daniel?”
“Yes.”
“Why didn’t he stop it?”
Marianne began crying.
“Because Daniel threatened you.”
“What?”
“He told Gabriel that if he appeared, you would die before the reception ended.”
Luka stopped at the door.
The room went silent.
“Daniel knew my father was alive?”
“Yes.”
“For how long?”
“Years.”
“Why?”
“Because Adrian made him part of it.”
A sharp crash sounded on Marianne’s end.
She gasped.
“Marianne?”
No answer.
“Marianne!”
A man’s voice came faintly through the phone.
Calm.
Familiar.
“Sofia.”
My blood turned cold.
I knew that voice.
Adrian Cross.
Daniel’s father.
“Adrian?”
He chuckled softly.
“You’ve been asking entirely too many questions.”
“Where is Marianne?”
“She made choices.”
“What did you do?”
“Nothing that cannot still be corrected.”
Luka took the phone from my hand.
“Adrian.”
Silence.
Then Adrian laughed.
“The stray finally found his way home.”
Luka’s entire body went still.
“If you touch her—”
“What?”
“You’ll kill me?”
Adrian sounded amused.
“You always had Carlo’s temper.”
“Funny, considering you apparently think I have your blood.”
Adrian’s laughter stopped.
That struck something.
Good.
Luka continued.
“Marianne walks out of that house.”
“Or what?”
“Or every Meridian file in Vault 17 goes public.”
I looked at Luka.
That was a bluff.
Adrian didn’t know.
A long silence followed.
Then Adrian spoke.
“You found the vault.”
Luka smiled coldly.
“You sound worried.”
“I’m not.”
“You should be.”
Adrian lowered his voice.
“You have no idea what Gabriel put in there.”
“Then tell me.”
“I’d rather show Sofia.”
My heart tightened.
“Show me what?”
I asked.
Adrian heard me.
“Ask Luka where his mother was on the night your father disappeared.”
Luka frowned.
“What?”
But Adrian had already disconnected.
Three seconds later, my phone received a photograph.
Old.
Grainy.
Dated twelve years ago.
My father stood outside a motel.
Beside him was a woman.
Dark-haired.
Elegant.
I had never seen her before.
Luka had.
His face emptied.
“My mother.”
Lucia Moretti.
The supposedly dead mother who had died sixteen years ago.
May you like
Standing beside my father four years after her funeral.
And on the back wall behind them was a motel room number.
