Chapter 8: The Forgery and the Fire
625 Words
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*Sunday, 9:42 AM. Kelvin’s Study.*
I didn’t sleep.
I sat on the floor with my back to the door, staring at the closed laptop.
£200,000.
`Clause 3: Subject must be compelled into 1-year marriage.`
`“Yes. I know the timeline.”`
364 days.
Today was Day 1 of war.
Kelvin was gone. Early meeting. His PA said `“Mr. Kelvin won’t be back till evening.”`
Perfect.
The study was mine for 10 hours.
I started where I ended: *MERGER. HALE CONSTRUCTION. 2023.*
Hundreds of files. Board minutes. Emails. Contracts.
I searched: `SIGNATURE.`
Nothing.
`FORGERY.`
Nothing.
`HALE, THOMAS.` Dad’s name.
47 results.
The 12th one opened.
*ASSET TRANSFER AGREEMENT. PAGE 7.*
Dad’s signature. Right at the bottom.
`Thomas Hale.`
I knew his signature. I forged school notes with it when I was 12. The T loops left. The H is sharp.
This one... didn’t loop.
It was too perfect. Too clean.
My stomach dropped.
I pulled up Dad’s real signature from my phone. His will. Saved in my photos.
Side by side.
Fake.
The real one was messy. Angry. He hated paperwork.
This one looked printed.
*Metadata: CREATED BY: K. KELVIN. 12.03.2023.*
3 days before the transfer. 3 days before he died.
Proof.
I screenshot it. Sent it to my private email.
My hands were steady now.
Because I had him.
The door opened.
I didn’t close the laptop.
Kelvin.
He stopped when he saw me on the floor. Files everywhere.
“Evening came early.”
“You forged it.” I held up the screen. “This isn’t Dad’s signature. You made it. 12.03.2023.”
He looked at it. Then at me.
No surprise.
“You’re not supposed to have access.”
“I have a year.” I stood. “And I have this.”
For a second, I thought he’d take the laptop. Delete it.
He didn’t.
He closed the door.
“Delete it.”
“No.”
“Jenna.” His voice was low. Warning.
“Or what? You’ll kill me too?” I laughed. Bitter. “Add it to the list.”
He walked to me. Slow.
“You think that paper wins?” He stopped 1 foot away. “The board knows. The police know. No one cares. Because I’m Kelvin Corp.”
The truth hit harder than the fist last night.
Money erases crime.
“I don’t want the police,” I whispered. “I want you.”
His eyes flickered.
“You have me.” He tapped the contract on the desk. “364 days. No police. No court. Just me and you in this house.”
“That’s not justice.”
“No.” He reached past me. Closed the laptop. “That’s revenge.”
His fingers brushed mine on the lid.
Static.
I didn’t pull away.
“Why are you telling me this?” I asked. “Why not lie?”
“Because lies are for Rose.” His voice dropped. “And you’re not her.”
The room went quiet.
Outside, London was loud. Inside, it was just us.
“You want me to burn you,” I said. “So do it.”
“How?”
“Give me the real file. The one with the IP address. The one your IT guy hid.”
He stilled.
So it existed.
“You’re not ready.”
“Try me.”
Kelvin studied me. Like I was a merger he couldn’t read.
Then he stepped back.
“Monday. 8 PM. My private server room. Come alone.” He picked up his jacket. “If you’re late, I burn it.”
He left.
I exhaled.
I had 24 hours.
And for the first time, the CEO was scared of me.
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- Writer
