Chapter 4: The Name Behind the Door
I put Emma to bed myself that night.
She asked me to leave the lamp on, and I did.
I sat on the edge of her mattress until her breathing slowed and her grip on my sleeve loosened finger by finger.
When I was sure she was asleep, I went downstairs to my study.
The lock showed no sign of tampering.
Whatever key Juliette had used, she had obtained it carefully.
I sat at my desk and opened my laptop and typed the name Daniel Forsythe into the search bar.
The results were not what I expected.
There were fourteen results.
Most were business directory listings.
One was a LinkedIn profile with no photograph.
But the third result was a court filing — civil, not criminal — from four years ago in another city.
The plaintiff was a woman named Carla Voss.
The defendant was listed as Daniel Forsythe, doing business under a company called Meridian Asset Consulting.
I clicked through to the filing summary.
The case had been settled out of court.
The details were sealed.
But the nature of the complaint was listed in the header: *fraudulent misrepresentation, unauthorized access to private financial records, breach of fiduciary duty.*
I sat back in my chair.
Rosa knocked on the open study door at half past nine.
She was still in her uniform, which meant she had not gone home.
I waved her in.
"Sit down, Rosa."
She sat on the edge of the chair across from me, hands folded in her lap.
"How long have you been trying to tell me?" I asked.
"Three weeks," she said.
"I wrote two other letters.
I threw them away.
I was afraid you wouldn't believe me.
She told me once — not directly, but clearly enough — that if I ever caused a problem for her in this house, she would make sure I couldn't find work in this city again."
"She threatened your job."
"She was very calm about it.
That was the part that frightened me most."
I turned the laptop toward her and pointed at the Meridian Asset Consulting entry.
"Have you ever heard her mention this name?
This company?"
Rosa leaned forward and read.
Her face changed.
"She had papers," Rosa said slowly.
"About six weeks ago.
I came into the dining room to set the table and she was at the far end with documents spread out.
She gathered them quickly when she saw me.
I only saw part of one page." She paused.
"There was a logo at the top.
I didn't think about it at the time.
But the shape was a circle with a line through the center."
I pulled up the Meridian Asset Consulting directory listing.
The logo was a circle with a single horizontal line through the middle.
Rosa looked at me.
"What does she want from you?"
"I don't know yet," I said.
"But I think she's been in this house looking for something specific."
I thought about my study.
My locked study.
The financial records I kept there — not all of them digital.
My late wife's estate documents.
The trust I had set up for Emma.
The property holdings.
The investment accounts that had grown considerably in the three years since Catherine died and left everything to Emma and me.
My phone buzzed on the desk.
Unknown number.
I answered it.
"Mr.
Harlow." A man's voice.
Smooth, unhurried.
"My name is Daniel Forsythe.
I think it's time we spoke."
The room felt smaller.
"How did you get this number?" I asked.
"Juliette gave it to me.
Along with quite a bit of other information." A pause.
"I want you to understand that I have no interest in harming you or your daughter.
My interest is purely financial, and I believe we can resolve this quietly if you're willing to have a reasonable conversation."
"What conversation?"
"The one about the Harlow Family Trust," he said.
"And the signature that appears on the amendment filed eight days ago.
The amendment you didn't sign."
My hand tightened on the phone.
"What amendment?"
"The one that names Juliette Marchand as co-trustee," he said.
"Effective immediately upon your marriage.
Which, as I understand it, you were very close to agreeing to."
The line stayed open.
He was waiting.
I said nothing.
May you like
Because the worst part was not that someone had forged my signature on a legal document.
The worst part was that I had been two weeks away from proposing.
