Chapter 8: Before She Gets There
I called Gerald Marsh at seven in the morning.
He answered before the second ring, which told me he had been waiting.
"Nathan." His voice carried the weight of a man who had held a secret too long.
"I'm so sorry.
Your father made me promise to wait until you were ready to hear it.
I kept misjudging when that was."
"I'm ready now.
I need everything you have, and I need to know what we can do with it in eleven days."
"I've been ready for fourteen months," Gerald said.
"Tell me where you are."
He arrived at the hotel by nine with a second file — his own, separate from Finch's — and the name of a forensic document examiner he trusted.
Within two hours, the paternity document from the safe was being analyzed.
By early afternoon, the examiner called back.
"The signature is real," she said.
"But the document was altered after signing.
The original was a standard employment contract.
Someone removed the lower portion and substituted the paternity language.
The ink chemistry is consistent but the paper stock below the signature line is a different batch.
Whoever did this was skilled.
But not skilled enough."
Grace sat very still when I told her.
"She forged it in reverse," Grace said slowly.
"She took your real signature from something else and built a false document around it.
So that if I ever tried to use it, it would look like I had forged it."
"Yes."
"She was going to let me try to prove Lily's paternity.
And then destroy me with the document I thought was protecting us."
"Yes."
Grace pressed both hands flat on the table.
Her jaw was tight.
"What do we do?"
"We give her the chance to walk into it herself."
I called Victoria.
She answered on the third ring, her voice warm and slightly wounded, the voice of a woman who had been unfairly upset.
"Nathan.
I've been so worried.
Where are you?
I came back to the house and—"
"I need you to meet me," I said.
"Tonight.
The house.
Seven o'clock.
We need to talk through everything and I think we can work this out."
A pause.
Calculating.
"Of course," she said.
"Of course, Nathan.
I'll be there."
I ended the call and looked at Gerald, then at Finch.
"She'll come prepared," Finch said.
"I know.
So will we."
Richard Holt arrived at six.
He brought two other board members — ones I trusted, ones Victoria had not yet had time to work on.
Gerald brought the forensic report.
Finch brought his recorder and his forty-seven pages.
Grace stayed at the hotel with Lily and a number to call if anything went wrong.
At five minutes past seven, Victoria walked through the front door of my house.
She stopped when she saw the room.
Richard Holt sat at the kitchen table.
The two board members stood near the window.
Gerald Marsh stood by the counter.
Finch stood near the door.
And I stood in the center of the room, the paternity document and the forensic report and the Vantage Meridian registration in my hands.
Victoria's eyes moved across every face in the room.
Her expression didn't break.
But her hand, just for a moment, went to the strap of her bag.
"Nathan," she said carefully.
May you like
"What is this?"
"This is the part," I said, "where I stop letting you shape the story."
