Chapter 46: The Forged Beneficiary

Nobody spoke for several seconds.

The image of the silver brooch remained frozen on the conference-room screen.

Colette had been there.

But she hadn't been alone.

"She's delivering messages," Victor said quietly.

"Not creating them."

I nodded.

"Someone higher up is still hiding."

Arthur closed the surveillance footage.

"I'll keep tracing the vehicle."

"Covered licence plates still leave tyre patterns, toll records and traffic cameras."

"Good," Victor replied.

"Start with every route leading out of the city."

Damien remained unusually silent.

His eyes never left the photograph of the brooch.

"You're thinking about your mother," I said.

He looked at me.

"I'm thinking about every person I've trusted."

"That's a longer list."

A faint, humourless smile crossed Victor's face.

"Trust can wait."

"Evidence can't."

He reached into his briefcase.

"Arthur found something else this afternoon."

A thick brown envelope landed on the conference table.

Across the front were the words:

ESTATE PLANNING RECORDS.

"Where did this come from?" Damien asked.

"County probate office," Victor answered.

"Completely legal request."

"Nathaniel's name appeared during our financial search."

"Why would Nathaniel appear in estate records?"

"That's exactly why I requested them."

Victor opened the file.

Several official forms slid across the table.

"Three years ago," he said, "someone attempted to change the beneficiary of an insurance policy worth eight million pounds."

Damien frowned.

"Whose policy?"

Victor looked directly at me.

"Nathaniel Carter's."

My heartbeat slowed.

"That's impossible."

"Nathaniel never mentioned life insurance."

"He probably never knew it had changed," Victor replied.

"Because the request was filed only four days before the crash."

Arthur pushed another document toward me.

"Look at the signature."

I lowered my eyes.

Nathaniel Carter.

Written neatly across the bottom.

At first glance it looked genuine.

Then I noticed the capital N.

It curved too sharply.

Nathaniel never wrote it that way.

"It's forged," I whispered.

"Exactly."

"The handwriting expert reached the same conclusion."

Damien leaned forward.

"Who became the new beneficiary?"

Victor slowly turned the final page.

The room fell completely silent.

The name printed inside the box was one I recognised instantly.

Colette Martin.

"No..." Rose whispered.

"She wasn't even working for us back then."

"Officially, no," Victor replied.

"Which means whoever forged this document already knew who she was."

Damien's expression hardened.

"She was connected to Nathaniel before she entered my house."

"Yes," Victor said.

"Much earlier than any of us realised."

I stared at the document.

"The insurance company paid?"

"No."

"Fortunately they detected irregularities before approving the change."

"The claim was suspended after Nathaniel died because of the disputed signature."

"Nobody challenged the decision," Arthur added.

"The file simply disappeared into storage."

"Until today."

Victor gathered the papers together.

"Whoever planned this expected two outcomes."

"Nathaniel dies."

"The forged beneficiary receives eight million pounds."

"Someone invested a great deal in making sure your brother never spoke."

The room felt colder.

"Money wasn't the goal," I said quietly.

"Silence was."

"Exactly," Victor answered.

"The money was merely payment."

My phone vibrated.

Another anonymous message.

No number.

No name.

Only a photograph.

I enlarged it.

An old cemetery.

Nathaniel's grave.

Fresh white lilies rested against the headstone.

Beneath the picture were six words.

"Someone visits him every Thursday."

Today's date.

Thursday.

I looked at the clock.

Six twenty-three.

"He's there now," I whispered.

"Who?" Damien asked.

"I don't know."

"But whoever sent this wants us to see it."

Victor stood immediately.

"Arthur, bring the car."

"Rose, stay here."

"Damien... you're with us."

Twenty minutes later the cemetery gates appeared through the rain.

The caretaker recognised Victor and unlocked the entrance.

"Someone left only a few minutes ago," the old man said.

"Black umbrella."

"Couldn't see the face."

"Did they leave anything?" Victor asked.

"Just flowers."

"Nothing unusual."

We walked quickly toward Nathaniel's grave.

The lilies were still wet.

A folded white envelope rested beneath them.

My name was written across the front.

Vivian.

No surname.

Only my first name.

Victor carefully opened it.

Inside was a photocopy of the forged beneficiary form.

But someone had circled one small detail in red ink.

A witness signature.

None of us had noticed it before.

"Who witnessed it?" Damien asked.

Victor adjusted the page beneath the flashlight.

His expression changed instantly.

"This..." he said slowly.

"This changes everything."

"Who is it?" I asked.

He turned the paper toward me.

My breath caught.

The witness wasn't Colette.

It wasn't Eleanor.

It wasn't anyone from Ashford Holdings.

The signature belonged to the police officer who had officially investigated Nathaniel's fatal crash.