Chapter 2 - Roman’s SignatureRoman did not remember sitting down.
One moment he was standing between his wife and her father.
The next he was on the edge of a leather chair, staring at the paused security footage.
Ambrose’s jaw was already swelling.
Roman looked at it and felt sick.
“I hit you.”
Ambrose touched the bruise.
“Yes.”
“I’m sorry.”
“I know.”
“No.”
Roman stood.
“I didn’t ask anything.”
“You thought you were protecting my daughter.”
“That does not make it okay.”
Ambrose looked at him for a long moment.
“No.”
Roman appreciated the answer.
No instant absolution.
No comforting lie.
He turned toward Delaney.
She had moved near the fireplace.
Her arms were crossed tightly over the tear she had made herself.
“Tell me everything.”
She shook her head.
“You’re angry.”
“Yes.”
“You won’t hear me.”
“Try.”
Vivienne finally spoke.
“Delaney.”
Her daughter looked at her.
“Tell him.”
Delaney laughed bitterly.
“Oh, now you want honesty?”
Vivienne’s face tightened.
“What does that mean?”
“You know exactly what Dad has done to this family.”
Ambrose answered:
“This has nothing to do with what I did twenty years ago.”
“It has everything to do with it.”
Roman looked between them.
“Stop.”
They did.
Roman pointed toward the television.
“You staged an assault.”
Delaney’s eyes filled.
“I needed you to believe me.”
“You could have spoken to me.”
“You love him.”
Roman stared.
“He is your father.”
“That isn’t an answer.”
“No.”
Roman stepped closer.
“I respect him.”
“More than me.”
“I did not say that.”
“You didn’t have to.”
Ambrose shook his head.
“Delaney, this is not jealousy.”
She snapped:
“Stay out of my marriage.”
Roman almost laughed.
“You dragged him into our marriage the second you used me as a weapon.”
That landed.
Delaney flinched.
Roman continued:
“What petition?”
She remained silent.
Ambrose picked up the blue folder.
“Emergency petition for temporary conservatorship.”
Roman frowned.
“For you?”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“To remove my authority over Hartwell Development and the Hart Family Trust.”
Roman looked at Delaney.
“You filed this?”
She shook her head.
“My attorney did.”
“That means yes.”
“I had reasons.”
“What reasons?”
She looked at Ambrose.
“His judgment has been getting worse.”
Ambrose laughed once.
“According to whom?”
“People notice.”
“Which people?”
“Employees.”
“Names.”
Delaney said nothing.
Ambrose continued.
“Board members?”
Silence.
“Doctors?”
Nothing.
Roman stared at his wife.
“Dr. Keene.”
Delaney looked away.
Roman understood.
“You hired her.”
“She’s independent.”
Ambrose laughed.
“She was paid through Bellweather Advisory.”
Roman frowned.
“What is Bellweather?”
Ambrose opened the folder.
“A consulting company receiving Hartwell funds.”
He placed a page on table.
Roman read.
BELLWEATHER ADVISORY LLC.
Registered agent.
Nolan Price.
Roman looked up.
“Nolan from Aster Ridge?”
Delaney’s former college friend.
Now a distressed-debt investor.
Roman had met him at dinner.
Twice.
Delaney said:
“He is advising me.”
“On removing your father?”
“On protecting the company.”
Roman’s voice hardened.
“From the founder?”
“From a man who refuses to accept that he is getting older.”
Ambrose said nothing.
Roman looked at him.
“Have you had medical issues?”
“No diagnosis affecting judgment.”
“Memory?”
“I forget where I put my glasses.”
Vivienne unexpectedly said:
“He does.”
Ambrose looked at her.
She shrugged.
“You do.”
For one absurd second Roman nearly laughed.
Then Ambrose continued:
“Keene has never examined me.”
Roman’s head snapped toward Delaney.
“She filed an opinion without seeing him?”
“Preliminary assessment.”
“Based on what?”
“Videos.”
Roman stared.
“What videos?”
Delaney swallowed.
Ambrose answered.
“Edited clips.”
He removed several printed transcripts.
One showed Ambrose shouting at a construction executive.
Another showed him asking the same question twice at dinner.
Another captured him dropping a glass.
Roman frowned.
“That’s your evidence of incapacity?”
Delaney snapped:
“It isn’t just that.”
“Then what?”
She said nothing.
Ambrose placed another document in front of Roman.
“Read page six.”
Roman did.
Affidavit of Roman Calder.
His name.
His address.
His profession.
A statement:
I have personally observed increasingly aggressive and unpredictable behavior by Ambrose Hart.
Roman’s pulse rose.
He had never written that.
He read further.
On multiple occasions I have feared for Delaney’s physical safety.
False.
Then:
On the evening of August 22, I personally witnessed Ambrose Hart physically attack his daughter, Delaney Hart Calder, requiring me to intervene.
Roman looked up slowly.
“This was prepared before tonight.”
Ambrose nodded.
The date field was already filled.
Delaney’s face went white.
Roman stared.
“You knew what was supposed to happen tonight.”
“Roman—”
“You had the affidavit written.”
“It was a draft.”
“It describes an event that had not happened.”
Delaney’s voice broke.
“I was desperate.”
Roman looked back at document.
Then saw something at bottom.
Electronic signature.
Roman Calder.
His signature.
Applied.
His entire body went cold.
“I didn’t sign this.”
Delaney said nothing.
Roman turned the page.
Audit certificate.
Time stamp.
Three days earlier.
The signature had been generated from his authenticated home e-sign account.
Roman looked at his wife.
Only Delaney knew his password.
At least he thought only Delaney knew.
“You forged my signature.”
“It wasn’t filed.”
“You signed my name to a lie.”
“I could have deleted it.”
“After I punched him?”
Delaney’s mouth opened.
No answer.
Roman’s voice dropped.
“You wanted me to hit him.”
Tears finally rolled down her face.
“Yes.”
Vivienne gasped.
Ambrose closed his eyes.
Roman whispered:
“You wanted me to believe your father attacked you so badly that I would attack him.”
Delaney nodded.
“Because you needed my testimony.”
“Yes.”
Roman backed away as if she had struck him.
Then Ambrose said:
“That is not the only reason.”
Roman turned.
Ambrose opened another document.
An organizational chart.
Hartwell Development.
Family trust.
Voting control.
“If I am declared incompetent,” Ambrose said, “temporary control passes according to the trust.”
Roman looked at Delaney.
“To her?”
Ambrose shook his head.
“To Vivienne.”
Everyone turned toward Delaney’s mother.
Vivienne’s face drained.
Roman stared.
“And if Vivienne declines?”
Ambrose looked directly at Delaney.
“Then it passes to my daughter.”
Delaney whispered:
“That company should be mine anyway.”
Roman finally understood.
This wasn’t only an accusation.
It was a succession plan.
Then Ambrose turned one final page.
“But Delaney made one mistake.”
She looked at him.
“What?”
“I changed the trust two weeks ago.”
Her face went blank.
Ambrose continued:
“If anyone in the family attempts to remove me through manufactured evidence…”
A pause.
“…control goes to an independent trustee.”
Delaney stared.
“No.”
“Yes.”
“You couldn’t.”
“I did.”
Roman looked at his wife.
Her entire scheme had been designed to take power that no longer existed.
But instead of relief, Ambrose looked grim.
Because the financial audit was still real.
Fourteen-point-eight million dollars was still missing.
And the largest recipient was not Nolan Price.
May you like
It was a company registered to—
Vivienne Hart.
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