Chapter 5 - The Signature I Never Made
The filing sat in Delaware corporate records.
A consent dated two days before the wedding.
It carried my electronic signature.
It authorized Bennett Capital to subordinate its Hartwell note behind the new bridge lender.
I had never seen it.
Naomi looked at the signature block.
"This certificate is real."
"How?"
"Someone used your authentication token."
I felt stupid the moment I said it.
Naomi shook her head.
"Trusting your fiancé isn't stupidity."
"It feels close."
We called Bennett Capital's IT director.
The signature had been executed at 2:14 a.m. from my apartment network.
Security footage showed him leaving the bedroom hallway at 2:07.
Returning at 2:19.
Twelve minutes.
Enough.
I texted him one question.
DID YOU SIGN MY NAME?
He called instantly.
I declined.
He texted:
IT WAS TEMPORARY. I WAS GOING TO TELL YOU.
I stared at the words.
Naomi said, "Save that."
Another message came.
MY FATHER SAID THE COMPANY WOULD FAIL WITHOUT IT.
I replied.
Then why did you forge my signature?
He stopped texting.
At noon, Hartwell Hospitality announced an emergency board meeting.
At 12:30, Charles gave a statement to lenders claiming "a domestic dispute" had created uncertainty around Bennett Capital's consent.
At 12:42, financial reporters started calling me.
At 1:05, a process server arrived.
Julian had filed for a temporary order preventing me from interfering with Hartwell's refinancing.
His petition said my "emotional reaction to marital conflict" was threatening hundreds of jobs.
Naomi read it once.
Then smiled without humor.
"He wants a judge to treat your own asset rights like a tantrum."
I looked at the hearing date.
Next morning.
Then I saw the attached exhibit.
A psychiatric letter saying I had suffered "episodes of impulsive financial behavior."
Signed by Dr. Leonard Chase.
May you like
My therapist.
Except Dr. Chase had been dead for eleven months.
