I didn't sleep that night.
The message kept replaying in my mind.
There's a third signature on that charter. And it belongs to someone who's been waiting in the shadows longer than any of us.
I spread everything I had brought to Geneva across the hotel desk: the medallion, Dad's journal, the original charter, and the old photographs.
If that signature was hidden somewhere I'd already looked, I was going to find it.
I started with the charter.
Three signature lines appeared at the bottom. The first belonged to my grandfather. The second belonged to Dad.
The third was written in elegant, looping ink.
Elena Voss.
My mother's name.
My breath caught.
"That can't be right," I whispered. "She was a teacher. She never told me she was involved in any of this."
But the more I stared at t
