Chapter 4: The Signature That Should Not Exist
The room went silent.
Not the peaceful kind of silence.
The kind that comes before something breaks.
I stared at my father.
“Your name?””
My voice sounded smaller than I wanted.
Marco looked uncomfortable.
My father didn’t move.
“Sweetheart, listen to me.””
“No.””
The word came out faster than I expected.
I stepped back.
“My accident happened three years ago.””
“Yes.””
“And the person who approved my surgery was you?””
My father looked at the floor.
For the first time in my life, I saw him hesitate before answering me.
That scared me.
“Adrian,” Marco said quietly.
“You need to explain.””
My father closed his eyes.
Then he walked toward his office desk and picked up the file.
“Three years ago, when you were in the hospital, I signed hundreds of documents.””
“Because I was dying?””
His face immediately changed.
“Don’t say that.””
“But I almost was.””
My father looked like every word hurt him.
“Yes.””
I swallowed.
“So you signed it.””
“No.””
The answer came instantly.
I froze.
“No?””
My father opened the folder and placed the document in front of me.
“This signature is mine.””
I looked down.
It was his name.
Adrian Kane.
Perfectly written.
Perfectly copied.
But somehow, my father looked at it like he had never seen it before.
“I never approved this.””
“Then how is your signature there?”” I asked.
My father didn’t answer.
Marco stepped closer.
“Someone forged it.””
I looked between them.
“Someone forged my father’s signature on my medical records?””
“Yes,” Marco said.
“Why?””
Nobody answered.
That was when I understood.
Everyone had been protecting me.
But nobody had been protecting me from the truth.
My father sat down slowly.
“After the accident, I was told the crash was caused by a drunk driver.””
I remembered that.
The story I had heard my entire life.
A stranger lost control.
A random tragedy.
Bad luck.
My father continued.
“But I never believed it.””
“Why didn’t you tell me?””
“Because you were eight years old.””
His voice cracked.
“You were lying in a hospital bed. You had lost your leg. You were scared of everything.””
He looked at me.
“I couldn’t put more fear into your heart.””
I looked away.
Part of me understood.
Another part of me felt betrayed.
“You promised you would never hide things from me.””
My father lowered his head.
“I know.””
A knock came from the front door.
Everyone turned.
One of the guards entered.
“Boss.””
My father stood.
“What?””
“There is someone here.””
“Who?””
The guard hesitated.
“Your mother.””
My father went completely still.
My grandmother.
I hadn’t seen her in almost a year.
She rarely visited.
Not because she didn’t love us.
Because she and my father had always disagreed about his life.
A few minutes later, she entered the office.
She was elegant, calm, and terrifying in a completely different way than my father.
She looked at me first.
Then at my father.
“I heard what happened at the school.””
My father’s voice was cold.
“How?””
“Damian told me.””
The room froze.
My father stepped forward.
“He contacted you?””
“Yes.””
“Why?””
My grandmother looked at me.
“Because he wanted me to know he finally started the plan.””
My stomach tightened.
“What plan?””
Nobody answered.
My grandmother walked closer.
“Your uncle has always believed your father took everything from him.””
My father laughed once.
A bitter sound.
“He chose his own path.””
“Did he?””
My father stared at her.
She continued.
“Damian believes the family empire should have been his.””
“That’s not true.””
“He believes you were always chosen.””
My grandmother looked at me.
“And then you were born.””
I didn’t understand.
“What does that have to do with me?””
Her expression softened.
“Everything.””
My father immediately interrupted.
“Enough.””
“No,” my grandmother said firmly.
“She deserves to know.””
My father looked angry.
But he didn’t stop her.
She took a breath.
“Your accident was not random.””
The words hit me like a wave.
My grandmother continued.
“Damian wanted your father to lose the one thing he loved most.””
I looked at my father.
His eyes were full of pain.
“But he failed,” my grandmother said.
“Because you survived.””
Nobody spoke.
Then my father’s phone rang.
He answered.
A few seconds later, his face changed.
“What?””
I watched him listen.
Then his hand tightened around the phone.
“Are you sure?””
A pause.
“Send me the footage.””
He ended the call.
“What happened?”” I asked.
He looked at me.
“The school security cameras were not the only recordings.””
My father turned to Marco.
“Play it.””
Marco connected the video.
A grainy image appeared.
A man entering the school one day before the attack.
A man carrying a folder.
A man speaking with Principal Williams.
Then the camera zoomed closer.
I saw his face.
My heart stopped.
Because I knew him.
My father knew him.
Everyone in our family knew him.
It was the man who had attended every birthday party.
Every holiday.
Every family dinner.
My father whispered his name.
“Damian.””
Then the video showed something worse.
Damian handed Principal Williams a photograph.
My photograph.
The one of me and my father before the accident.
My father stared at the screen.
And quietly said:
“He wasn’t trying to hurt you.””
May you like
He looked at me.
“He was trying to break me.””
