Chapter 4: The Signature That Could Destroy Him

“That's a lie.””

Derek's voice came through the phone so loudly that I instinctively pulled it away from my ear.

I was sitting beside Maisie's crib in my father's guesthouse, listening to the confrontation unfold through Carter's call.

The attorney had put me on speaker briefly so I could hear what was happening, but I hadn't expected Derek to lose control so quickly.

Carter remained calm.

“Mr. Halston, I'm not making an accusation. I'm telling you that we have a copy of a financing application submitted to Commonwealth Commercial Lending six months ago.””

“I don't know what you're talking about.””

“The application lists you as an owner of the residential property at 1847 Ashbourne Lane.””

“That's my residence.””

“Residence and ownership are two different things.””

Derek laughed bitterly.

“Ask my wife. We've lived there for years.””

Carter didn't raise his voice.

“Your wife isn't the registered owner either. The Vance Family Property Trust is.””

I heard papers moving.

Then Vanessa spoke.

“Derek, what is he talking about?””

“Stay out of this.””

“But you told me—”

“I said stay out of it!””

A brief silence followed.

I imagined Vanessa standing near the gate, holding the document Carter had given her.

Perhaps she was finally beginning to understand that the future Derek had promised her didn't exist.

Carter continued.

“Mr. Halston, the application contains a declaration stating that you held a transferable fifty-percent interest in the property.””

Derek's voice dropped.

“It's a preliminary application.””

“Then you should have no difficulty explaining why the ownership declaration was signed under penalty of perjury.””

“I never said I owned the entire property.””

“You represented that you owned an interest sufficient to support the proposed collateral arrangement.””

“That was between me and the lender.””

“No. It became a matter involving the actual property owner when you used their asset without authorization.””

I closed my eyes.

The actual property owner.

My father's trust.

My family.

Derek had apparently decided that because he had married me, he could use my family's assets as though they belonged to him.

“Carter,” I said quietly.

He heard me.

“Yes, Audrey?””

“Please ask him why he needed the money.””

There was a pause.

Carter repeated my question.

Derek immediately became defensive.

“Tell Audrey this has nothing to do with her.””

“Mr. Halston, she is the trust beneficiary and the authorized occupant who was displaced from the residence yesterday. It has quite a lot to do with her.””

“Displaced?”” Derek scoffed.

“She left voluntarily.””

I felt my jaw tighten.

I had left because I had found another woman in my bedroom five days after giving birth.

But apparently, in Derek's version of events, I had simply decided to take a vacation.

Carter said something I couldn't hear.

Then Derek replied, “I needed capital for a development project. That's all.””

“What project?”” Carter asked.

“It's none of your business.””

Vanessa suddenly interrupted.

“You told me it was already approved.””

Derek turned toward her.

“Vanessa, not now.””

“You said the money was coming.””

“Lower your voice.””

“You said we could buy the lake house after the financing cleared.””

I sat motionless.

A lake house?

Derek had told me for months that our finances were tight because his company was expanding.

He had asked me to postpone purchasing furniture for Maisie's nursery.

He had even complained about the cost of my prenatal appointments.

And now I was hearing that he had promised Vanessa a second property.

Carter's voice cut through my thoughts.

“Mr. Halston, I recommend you stop discussing this matter at the gate. Our office will communicate with your attorney.””

Derek responded with something angry and indistinct.

Then the call ended.

I stared at the screen.

For a moment, the guesthouse was completely silent.

Then Maisie began to fuss.

I lifted her from the crib and held her against my shoulder.

“It's okay, sweetheart.””

I gently rocked her.

But my mind was elsewhere.

Six months earlier, I had been decorating the nursery.

Six months earlier, Derek had been telling me he couldn't wait to become a father.

And six months earlier, he had apparently been presenting my family home as collateral for a loan.

At 4:15 p.m., Carter called again.

“Are you sitting down?””

I looked at the chair.

“Yes.””

“We obtained additional information from the lender.””

“What did you find?””

“The loan application was for $2.8 million.””

I felt my stomach drop.

“Two point eight million?””

“Yes.””

“What was the money supposed to fund?””

“A commercial redevelopment project outside Richmond. The application included projections, proposed acquisitions, and a personal financial statement.””

“Was the loan approved?””

“Not fully. The lender issued a conditional financing indication, but the property ownership issue prevented final underwriting.””

I closed my eyes.

“Did Derek receive any money?””

“We're investigating. There appears to have been a smaller advance connected to a separate business arrangement.””

I looked toward the window.

“Could he have used my signature?””

Carter paused.

“That is one of the questions we're examining.””

My fingers tightened around Maisie's blanket.

“I never signed a loan application.””

“I know. But we need to establish exactly what was submitted and whether anyone misrepresented your authorization.””

“Can I see the documents?””

“Of course. I'll send copies through our secure client portal.””

After we ended the call, I sat at the kitchen table for nearly twenty minutes.

Then I opened my laptop.

The first document was a financing application.

The second was a property valuation.

The third was a personal financial statement.

I read slowly.

My name appeared several times.

Audrey Vance Halston.

Beside it was a list of assets.

Some were real.

Some were exaggerated.

And one line made my blood run cold.

Beneficial interest in residential real estate: $4,600,000.

The mansion.

Derek had listed it as though it were part of his personal wealth.

But the next page was worse.

There was a section titled SPOUSAL ACKNOWLEDGMENT.

My name appeared beneath a typed statement indicating that I had reviewed and consented to the proposed financing structure.

At the bottom was a signature.

It looked like mine.

But it wasn't.

I leaned closer.

The letters were almost identical.

The same slant.

The same exaggerated curve in the A.

Someone had copied my signature from another document.

I immediately called Carter.

“I found it.””

“What did you find?””

“My signature.””

“Is it yours?””

“No.””

His tone became firm.

“Don't touch the document or alter anything. Save the original file and send us the copy through the secure portal. We'll arrange for forensic examination.””

I stared at the screen.

“Carter, somebody forged my signature.””

“We'll investigate that possibility.””

“Who had access to my documents?””

“That's something we'll need to establish.””

I thought about the office in the mansion.

The filing cabinet.

The desk Derek used.

The folders containing our marriage paperwork and financial records.

Then I remembered something.

“Derek once asked me to scan my passport and driver's license for an insurance application.””

“When?””

“About seven months ago.””

“Did you send them?””

“I gave him copies.””

Carter went quiet.

“Do you still have the original messages?””

“I think so.””

“Please preserve them.””

I searched my email.

After several minutes, I found the conversation.

Derek had asked for the documents, saying his accountant needed them to update our household insurance records.

I had sent them without questioning him.

The message was dated April 14.

Six days later, he had submitted the financing application.

I forwarded everything.

Then I sat back.

The affair had hurt me.

The abandonment had humiliated me.

But the possibility that my husband had used my identity to obtain millions of dollars made something inside me turn cold.

At 6:30 p.m., my phone rang.

Derek.

I let it ring.

He called again.

Then a message appeared.

We need to talk. This has gotten out of control.

Another followed.

You know I would never do anything to hurt you.

I stared at those words.

Then I typed:

Do not contact me about financial or property matters except through counsel. Maisie's needs can be discussed in writing.

I sent it.

Three minutes later, he replied.

You are letting your father destroy our marriage.

I didn't respond.

Instead, I placed the phone facedown.

For the first time in years, I wasn't going to spend my evening trying to understand Derek's feelings.

I was going to protect my daughter.

But at 8:12 p.m., a message arrived from an unexpected number.

It was Vanessa.

*Audrey, I know you probably hate me. But I think you need to see something. Derek has been keeping documents in a locked drawer in his office.

One of them has your father's name on it. I don't think he knows I found it.*

I stared at the message.

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