Chapter 4: The Signature That Wasn’t Mine
Vanessa snatched for the report, but Miriam stepped back.
“That document belongs to me.”
“It concerns my family,” Vanessa said.
“No.
It concerns Grace.”
I looked at the signature beneath the laboratory consent line.
“That isn’t my handwriting.”
Richard took the page.
“You forged her name?”
“I protected us from an obvious scheme.”
“By creating a false test?”
Vanessa pointed at Samuel.
“Ask him why he decided she was Eleanor’s daughter before seeing any evidence.”
Samuel removed his cap.
“Because Eleanor sent me a letter after Grace was born.”
Arthur turned sharply.
“You had contact with her?”
“One letter.
She asked whether you would let her come home with her child.”
“What did you tell her?”
“The truth.
You had ordered every employee to turn her away.”
Arthur’s mouth tightened.
“That was before I understood.”
“Before you regretted it,” Samuel said.
“Those are not the same thing.”
Vanessa moved toward the door.
“This sentimental performance changes nothing.”
I stepped into her path.
“Why did you test me weeks ago?”
“I already told you.”
“No.
You said you thought I wanted Richard’s attention.
You knew this was about my mother.”
Vanessa leaned close enough for me to smell her perfume.
“You scrubbed floors in a house you thought you owned.
That should tell you how believable your claim is.”
Richard caught her arm as she tried to pass.
“Answer Grace.”
Vanessa pulled free.
“Remove your hand.”
A woman in a gray uniform appeared at the top of the stairs.
Agnes, the housekeeper, held a folded scarf against her chest.
“Grace,” she said, “come with me for a moment.”
“I’m not running away.”
“You aren’t.” Agnes draped the scarf over my shoulders.
“But you shouldn’t have to face them wearing the evidence of what she did.”
My fingers touched the soft fabric.
Tears rose before I could stop them.
Agnes squeezed my hand.
“Hold your head up.
The shame belongs to the person who used the scissors.”
Vanessa gave a short laugh.
“Are the staff taking sides now?”
Agnes faced her.
“You made it impossible not to.”
Miriam opened another folder.
“There is more.
The trust gives Arthur the right to live here during his lifetime, but ownership passes immediately if Eleanor—or Eleanor’s child—is found.”
Arthur stared at the papers.
“Immediately?”
“You never owned the estate outright.”
Richard looked at Vanessa.
“Is that why you wanted Grace gone?”
Vanessa backed toward the staircase.
“I will not stand here and be interrogated.”
Her heel caught the edge of the photograph.
She looked down at Eleanor’s face, then hurried away.
I wiped my cheeks.
“How could she know about the trust?”
Miriam closed her case.
“Only three people had access to the sealed records: Arthur, me, and the family accountant.”
Richard pulled out his phone.
“Vanessa began meeting with our accountant six months ago.”
Arthur’s head snapped up.
“For what purpose?”
“She said she was restructuring the charitable accounts.”
Samuel pointed down the hallway.
“Do you smell smoke?”
A shrill alarm tore through the house.
Richard ran toward Arthur’s study, and I followed.
Smoke curled beneath the door.
He pushed it open.
Vanessa stood beside the fireplace with a bundle of papers in her hands.
“Move away from the fire,” Richard ordered.
Vanessa dropped the papers into the flames.
Miriam rushed past us and seized the metal poker.
“What did you burn?”
May you like
Vanessa watched the first page blacken at the edges.
“The only thing that could prove Grace belongs here.”
