Chapter 4 - The Signature That Could Take Everything|
For several seconds, I couldn't speak.
I stood in my tiny bedroom with the phone pressed against my ear.
Outside, the mansion was quiet.
But Arthur Whitcomb's words kept echoing through my head.
It gives Isabella Bellini the power to decide whether Teresa can remain in her own home.
“Mr. Whitcomb,” I whispered, “how is that possible?”
“Someone submitted a proposed authorization claiming Mrs. Moretti wants Isabella to manage her personal and financial affairs.”
“Did she sign it?”
“That's precisely what I need to establish.”
I swallowed.
“She told me she never authorized Isabella to manage her money.”
Arthur exhaled.
“Then we have a serious problem.”
I looked at the photograph of my father lying on the bed.
Someone had threatened my family.
I wanted to hang up.
I wanted to pack my things and leave.
But then I remembered Teresa asking whether she would be allowed to join dinner.
Eighty years old.
Living in a mansion she'd helped build into a home.
And frightened of being told where she could sit.
“What should I do?” I asked.
“First, don't take any documents from her room. Don't confront Isabella. I need to speak with Mrs. Moretti directly, preferably in the presence of an independent witness.”
I nodded, forgetting he couldn't see me.
“Okay.”
“Can she use a private telephone?”
“Yes.”
“Then ask her to call my office tomorrow morning. The number on our website is correct.”
I hesitated.
“Mr. Whitcomb, I think someone is threatening me.”
His tone changed immediately.
“What happened?”
I told him about the photograph.
He listened carefully.
Then said, “Preserve the envelope. Don't touch it more than necessary. If you believe your family is in immediate danger, contact the police.”
I looked down at the paper.
“Do you think Isabella sent it?”
“I can't say. And you shouldn't assume we know who did.”
He paused.
“But this makes it even more important to involve the authorities.”
After the call, I locked my door.
Then I called my father.
He answered sleepily.
“Emma?”
“Dad, are you home?”
“Of course. It's almost midnight.”
“Is Daniel there?”
“Studying for his chemistry test.”
Relief washed through me.
I wanted to tell him everything.
But how could I explain that someone might be watching him because I helped an elderly woman eat dinner?
Instead, I asked him to lock the apartment doors and be careful.
He immediately became suspicious.
“Emma, what's going on?”
“I'll explain tomorrow.”
“Are you safe?”
I looked at my bedroom door.
“I think so.”
There was a long pause.
Then he said, “Come home if you need to, sweetheart. We'll figure out the money.”
I nearly cried.
Because that was what he'd always said.
Even when there was no money.
Even when his back hurt so badly he could barely stand.
Even when he was terrified about how we'd pay the rent.
We'll figure it out.
After we hung up, I sat awake for hours.
At seven the next morning, I went to Teresa's room.
She was brushing her silver hair.
When she saw me, she smiled.
“Good morning, sweetheart.”
“Mrs. Moretti, Arthur called me last night.”
Her brush stopped moving.
“What?”
“He says someone's been trying to use your signature.”
She slowly lowered the brush.
“Did he say who?”
“He wants to speak with you directly.”
I handed her my phone.
She called his office.
For nearly twenty minutes, I sat by the window while Teresa spoke with him.
At first, her voice was calm.
Then angry.
Then frightened.
Finally, she said, “Arthur, I never signed that document.”
A pause.
“No. Absolutely not.”
Another pause.
Then her voice broke.
“I will not leave my home.”
When she hung up, her eyes were wet.
I knelt beside her.
“Are you okay?”
She shook her head.
“They've prepared papers giving Isabella authority to make decisions for me if I'm declared unable to manage my affairs.”
My stomach tightened.
“But you can manage your affairs.”
“I know.”
She looked toward the door.
“Someone is trying to make the world believe otherwise.”
Before I could respond, Luca appeared.
“Ma?”
Teresa quickly wiped her eyes.
He looked from her face to mine.
“What happened?”
I stood.
“Sir—”
Teresa interrupted.
“Close the door, Luca.”
He obeyed.
She looked directly at him.
“We need to talk about Isabella.”
His expression changed.
For the next half hour, Teresa told him everything.
The letters.
The missing money.
The altered telephone number.
The unauthorized document.
Luca listened in silence.
When she finished, he looked at me.
“Did you know about this?”
“Yes.”
“Why didn't you come to me?”
I swallowed.
“Your mother asked me to help her contact her attorney first.”
He turned toward Teresa.
She lifted her chin.
“I wanted someone independent to examine the documents.”
Luca looked wounded.
“You didn't trust me?”
Teresa's eyes filled with tears.
“I trusted you, sweetheart. I didn't trust the person who always answered for me when I tried to talk to you.”
Luca looked away.
For several seconds, nobody spoke.
Then he reached for his phone.
“I'm calling Arthur.”
But before he could dial, Isabella appeared in the doorway.
She was wearing a cream-colored dress and a smile that vanished when she saw us together.
“What is everyone doing in here?”
Luca looked at her.
“Discussing my mother's finances.”
Isabella froze.
Only for a second.
Then she laughed.
“Oh, darling. Not this again.”
Teresa straightened.
“Yes. This again.”
Isabella glanced at me.
Her expression sharpened.
Then she turned back to Luca.
“Your mother has been confused about the trust for months.”
Luca's jaw tightened.
“That's interesting.”
“What is?”
“Because Arthur Whitcomb says the documents may be fraudulent.”
Isabella went completely still.
Then her eyes moved toward Teresa's telephone.
And I realized something.
She hadn't known we'd reached the real attorney.
May you like
But now she did.
And whatever she'd been planning was about to become much more dangerous.
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