Chapter 12 - The Devil's Ink
My eyes dropped to the open page of the document.
My signature was at the bottom.
Beside it was Julian’s signature, dated precisely three months prior to our divorce—the exact week I had been hospitalized in intensive care with bilateral pneumonia following the night Victoria poured ice water over me.
"A spousal co-investment guarantee," Malcolm explained lazily, leaning back and lacing his fingers together. "Drafted by Julian’s attorneys while you were legally married. You signed away your thirty-percent Morrison family trust equity as collateral for Julian's private equity firm. When Julian's firm defaulted yesterday, the collateral transferred directly to Sterling Capital Management."
"This is a forgery," I whispered, bile rising in my throat. "I was in a medically induced coma on that date. I never signed this."
"The notary public of Boston confirms your identity and signature," Malcolm replied, tapping a certified gold stamp on the page. "The forensic notarization is sealed. As of twelve minutes ago, Sterling Capital controls fifty-one percent of Morrison Global Logistics. Arthur Morrison is stripped of executive authority. And you, Eleanor, are completely divested."
My father stood up, his face gray with agony. "Malcolm! Eleanor was dying in that hospital bed! Julian couldn't have gotten that signature legally! You forged it using her biometric medical release!"
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"Then sue me, Arthur," Malcolm smiled, his cold eyes gleaming with sadistic pleasure. "Take it to the courts. The litigation will take five years. Meanwhile, I will liquidate this company, sell every vessel in the fleet to Chinese scrap yards, and terminate every employee who bears your name. You took nine years of my life. I will take everything your ancestors built in nine days."
Malcolm stood up, towering over the boardroom. "Guards, escort Mr. Morrison and his daughter off the property. Their security clearances have been revoked."
