Chapter 7: What Sloan Knew
Natalie looked at the phone for a long time before she picked it up.
Renata was watching her with the careful attention of someone who understood that asking questions right now would be the wrong move.
Natalie typed: *How did you get this number?*
The response came in under a minute.
*Preston's assistant.
She's been forwarding his communications to me since March.
She thought I should know what he was telling people about me.*
Natalie read it twice.
Then she called Diana.
"I have a text from Sloan Mercer," she said when Diana answered.
"She says Preston's assistant has been forwarding his communications to her.
She wants to talk."
A pause.
"Don't meet with her alone.
Don't respond further tonight.
I want to be present for any conversation with Sloan Mercer."
"She said it's not about Preston.
She said it's about what he told both of us."
A longer pause.
"That's interesting."
"Yes."
"Can you come to my office tomorrow morning?
Nine o'clock?"
"I'll be there."
She ended the call and typed back to Sloan: *My attorney will be in touch tomorrow to arrange a meeting.
Please don't contact me directly until then.*
Three dots appeared.
Then: *Understood.
One thing, tonight, so you're not blindsided.
The $61,000 to Gerald Foss wasn't only about the compliance officer.
There's a second document Foss was paid to draft.
I didn't know about it until last week.
You need to see it.*
Natalie's hand tightened on the phone.
She typed: *Send it to Diana Reeves.
I'll give you her email.*
She sent the contact information and set the phone down.
Renata handed her the cup of tea.
It was cold now, but Natalie held it anyway.
"You don't have to tell me anything," Renata said.
"I know." Natalie looked at the dark window.
"He built a structure, Ren.
Not just for the money.
For everything.
Every person who might have been a problem, he found a way to manage them.
Pay them.
Contain them.
Make them sign something." She paused.
"I think Sloan was part of the structure too.
I don't think she knew all of it."
"Does that change how you feel about her?"
"I don't know yet."
At 11:40 that night, Diana sent a message: *Received a document from Sloan Mercer.
I've read it.
Call me when you wake up.
It's important.*
Natalie slept badly.
Her daughter moved through most of the night — restless, insistent, as if she too was waiting for something to resolve.
At 7:15 in the morning, Natalie called Diana.
"Tell me."
"The second document Foss drafted," Diana said, "was a postnuptial agreement.
Dated eight months ago.
Preston's signature is on it.
Yours is not."
Natalie sat up.
"My signature is not on it?"
"No.
But there is a signature on the line designated for your name." A pause.
"It's not your signature, Natalie.
The handwriting doesn't match anything in the documents you've provided.
But the notarization is real.
Foss notarized it himself."
The room was very quiet.
"He forged my signature," Natalie said.
"It appears so.
On a postnuptial agreement that would have surrendered your claim to the marital assets in the event of divorce." Diana's voice was careful and precise.
"If this agreement had been submitted to the court without challenge, you would have walked away from this marriage with almost nothing."
Natalie sat on the edge of the bed in her sister's spare room.
The morning light came through the curtains in thin lines.
"Diana," she said.
"What does forging a spouse's signature on a legal document constitute?"
"In New York," Diana said, "it's fraud.
And depending on how Foss's involvement is characterized, it may also constitute crjminal conduct on his part."
"I want to pursue it."
May you like
"I know you do." A brief pause.
"So do I."
