MasukClara’s POVI zoomed in on the photograph until the signature became blurry.Rafael Montecillo.My grandfather's name was written at the bottom of the document, followed by a short statement:Authorization granted October 14.I stared at it, trying to understand what I was looking at.“Daniel, look at this.”He came around the desk and examined my phone.“Where did this come from?”“Another message from the unknown number.”“Did they send anything else?”“No. Just the document.”He studied the signature.“It looks like your grandfather's handwriting.”“Looks like it isn't enough.”“Exactly.”I forwarded the image to our lawyer and asked him to arrange an examination. I didn't want another document being treated as proof simply because it carried a familiar name.Daniel pulled a chair closer.“October 14,” he said. “That's the same date written on Victor's photograph.”“And the date of the proposed agreement.”“Which means the authorization may be connected to it.”I looked at the scre
Clara’s POVI didn't sleep well.The initials on the back of the photograph kept drawing my attention. M.A.Margaret Ashford.It was possible she had been standing beside me when the picture was taken. It was also possible someone had written those initials years later to make me believe she was involved.I refused to accuse her based on two letters.By breakfast, Daniel had already arranged for the photograph to be examined by an independent document specialist. He arrived at the estate shortly after ten, carrying a folder and a small envelope.“Before you ask, I haven't contacted Margaret,” he said.“Good.”He placed the folder on the table.“The specialist can examine the paper, ink, and cropping marks. But there's something else.”He took out a printed photograph.It was a digital enlargement of the image's lower corner.“Look here.”I leaned closer. Beneath the shadow near the bench was a small portion of a shoe. It was partly hidden by the crop, but the shape was clear enough to
Clara’s POVI read the anonymous message several times.The agreement was about who would have the right to decide where you belonged.It sounded like a cruel joke.I was a child when I disappeared. I couldn't have understood the arguments between the Montecillo and Ashford families, much less the documents they were signing behind closed doors.Yet someone had apparently discussed my future as if I were a piece of property.I put my phone down and opened the folder Daniel had left on my desk. Victor Langford's name appeared in several old partnership records, but none mentioned an agreement concerning me.If the document existed, it had been kept separate from the official files.My phone rang.It was Daniel.“Have you received the message?” he asked.“Yes. You too?”“No. But I spoke with our lawyer. Victor's daughter found a box of his personal papers. She agreed to let us examine the documents related to the Ashford-Montecillo partnership.”“When can we see them?”“Tomorrow afterno
Clara’s POVI barely slept after Martin's call.Someone had entered the private office using my grandfather's name, but Martin couldn't confirm whether the visitor was actually Rafael Montecillo. He had only followed the instructions given to him.The more I thought about it, the more one question bothered me.Why would someone need to pretend to be my grandfather if they already had permission to enter the building?Daniel arrived the next morning with a printed copy of the visitor sheet.“Martin agreed to give a formal statement,” he said. “He's also willing to help us identify the person who entered the office.”“Did he remember anything else?”“He said the visitor had a noticeable limp.”I looked up.The same detail Thomas Reed had mentioned about the person who carried the leather case out of the building.“Did Martin see his face?”“Only briefly. He said the man kept his head lowered when they passed the reception desk.”I took the document from him.“Then we need to find someon
Clara’s POVThe visitor sheet was placed between Daniel and me.I had been staring at it for several minutes, trying to make sense of the faded handwriting. There were two entries dated October 18, eighteen years ago.The first was almost unreadable.The second carried Martin Hale's initials, followed by a short note.Private office personal delivery.According to the anonymous message, Martin hadn't signed for the visitor. He had signed for the person who was waiting.It was a strange distinction, but it could change everything.“Have you spoken to Martin?” I asked.Daniel shook his head. “Our lawyer tried calling him, but his phone is switched off.”“Maybe he's avoiding us.”“Or maybe he hasn't received the call.”I looked at the document again.“We shouldn't accuse him without hearing his explanation.”Daniel nodded and forwarded the scanned sheet to our lawyer. We asked for a handwriting examination and requested permission to inspect the original visitor log.Less than an hour la
Clara’s POVThe message stayed on my screen long after I had read it.Check the service entrance camera records. The person who carried the case out wasn't wearing a courier uniform.Daniel read it again.“Whoever sent this knows more than Martin admitted.”“Or they're trying to make us doubt his statement.”“Either way, we need to verify it.”I put my phone away. “Then let's find out whether those camera records still exist.”Our legal team contacted the company that had managed security at the old administrative building. The original footage was long gone, but the company had kept some maintenance and incident logs. We were told that the service entrance camera had malfunctioned on October 18, eighteen years ago.That alone wasn't proof of anything.However, the repair report included a note stating that the camera had been manually disconnected for approximately twelve minutes that afternoon.“Convenient,” Daniel muttered as he read it.“Do we know who requested the disconnection?







