Chapter 1 - SIGN BEFORE SUNRISE
Brooke set the leather folder on the pantry table and said, “Because by sunrise, Natalie will either sign this—or she’ll find out how ugly I can make a custody hearing.”
Behind the service door, Dominic went perfectly still.
Emma felt the blood leave her face. “Custody hearing?”
Brooke opened the folder. “Temporary Residency Surrender. Beneficiary Consent. A few housekeeping issues before the wedding.”
“Those don’t sound like housekeeping issues.”
“They are when the house is about to have a new Mrs. Mercer.”
Emma looked down at the papers. “Catherine’s cottage is in a trust.”
Brooke’s eyes sharpened. “You clean silver, Emma. You don’t practice law.”
“No. But I can read.”
That landed harder than Emma intended.
Brooke leaned closer. Her perfume was soft. Her voice was not.
“Natalie is fragile. Her husband is dead, her son has missed school, and she’s living in her brother’s house without paying a dime. A judge could hear that story in several ways.”
Emma’s fingers curled around the edge of the tray.
“You’d threaten Noah to get a signature?”
“I’d protect the family I’m marrying into.”
Behind the door, Dominic’s jaw flexed.
Brooke tapped the second page. “Natalie signs over any claim to the cottage. She also confirms that several trust distributions were made at her request.”
Emma scanned the paragraph.
“Three hundred eighty thousand dollars?”
“Over two years.”
“Natalie never received that.”
Brooke shrugged. “Then maybe she spent it badly.”
Emma looked up. “You know she didn’t.”
For the first time, Brooke’s composure cracked.
“Wake her.”
Emma reached into her apron pocket as if checking the time. She had already pressed record on her phone.
Brooke noticed the movement.
“What are you doing?”
“Checking the breakfast schedule.”
“At five in the morning?”
“You’re the one holding a legal ambush in the pantry at five in the morning.”
A small sound came from behind the service door.
Not a footstep.
A breath.
Brooke turned her head.
Emma moved fast and knocked a spoon off the tray.
It hit the tile with a bright metallic crack.
“Sorry,” Emma said, bending to pick it up.
Brooke stared at the service door another second, then looked back.
“You’ve gotten bold lately.”
“Maybe I’m tired.”
“Then be tired somewhere else after Saturday.”
Emma straightened. “Are you firing me?”
“I’m reorganizing.”
“You’re not married yet.”
Brooke smiled again. “That’s the funny part. I don’t need to be.”
She pulled a final document from the folder and turned it around.
Emma saw Dominic Mercer’s signature at the bottom.
Her stomach dropped.
“Mr. Mercer already authorized me to make household and trust decisions in his absence,” Brooke said. “So yes, Emma. I can fire you now.”
Dominic’s signature looked perfect.
Too perfect.
Emma had watched him sign staff Christmas cards for six years. He always dragged the last stroke of the M slightly downward because of an old injury in his wrist.
This signature curved upward.
It was fake.
Emma looked at Brooke. “Where did you get that?”
“From Dominic.”
“No, you didn’t.”
Brooke’s expression chilled.
Emma realized she had gone too far.
Then Brooke laughed.
“You really should learn when to stop talking.” She gathered the papers. “Wake Natalie. Ten minutes.”
She turned toward the door, then stopped.
“Oh, and Emma?”
“Yes?”
“If Natalie refuses, tell her I still have copies of those school reports about Noah’s panic attacks.”
Emma’s face hardened. “Those were confidential.”
“Not anymore.”
Brooke walked out.
Her heels faded down the hall.
The service door opened.
Dominic stepped into the pantry.
The temperature in the room seemed to drop ten degrees.
Emma handed him her phone.
“I recorded most of it.”
He listened to twelve seconds, then stopped.
His face was unreadable.
“That signature wasn’t yours,” Emma said.
“No.”
“What are you going to do?”
Dominic looked at the folder Brooke had accidentally left one sheet from on the table.
A law firm logo sat at the top.
VALE & CROSS PRIVATE CLIENT GROUP.
Dominic’s eyes narrowed.
“First,” he said, “I’m going to find out why the name of my closest adviser is on a forged document.”
Emma looked at the logo again.
Cross.
Adrian Cross.
Dominic’s right hand for fourteen years.
Then Dominic’s phone buzzed.
One message.
From Adrian.
WELCOME HOME.
—
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