Forged Authority Novels & Stories

I took a look at the paper, looking at the large sums of withdrawal made over time, alarmed at the large figures that I was seeing. “Isnt there someone in charge of this? How was this able to happen while someone was in charge? Or didn't I order a monthly check of the company accounts and purchases? I thought an authorized signature was needed for every withdrawal and purchase? So who on earth authorized this?” He brought out another file and placed it in front of me. I looked at the signature, taking just a few seconds to recognize it. “That’s not possible. I would never authorize withdrawals without asking for the cause. You need to check again, they must have been forged.”

“You’re saying your signature was always forged?” I shook my head. “No but several times. I’ve had digital forensic analysis done.” I nodded at the file beside Agent Caleb. “The signatures on those authorization forms are scanned copies that have been digitally placed on the documents. I never signed them or approved those transfers and they’re larger than board approved numbers.” “But you’re also saying he approved transfers to this…” Caleb trailed off, staring at the file. “K&E developments?” “Yes.” I nodded. “You can also easily see the pattern with the initials. He had the authority to authorize certain transfers and he worked closely with the CFO. However, he didn’t have the authority t

“I am Martinez Holdings. Not you. Not Cynthia. Not anyone else.” He arched a brow. “Then prove it.” I exhaled, forcing myself to think. Reacting emotionally would only give him more power. I needed leverage. And then it hit me. Lucia’s voice in my ear. Bridgette, he used your name to authorize the transfers. I smirked, stepping forward. “You were always good at playing dirty, Papá. But you made one mistake.” He chuckled. “And what’s that?” I leaned in. “Forgery.”

Forged letters, manufactured cult items, testimonies extracted through torture or fabricated entirely. "Item one," a clerk intoned. "Correspondence between Lord Marcus Dawnblade and known heretics, discussing the overthrow of rightful church authority." They displayed the letters with theatrical reverence. Even from distance, Kaelen could see the clumsy forgery: his father's careful script rendered in hasty approximation, the family seal slightly wrong, the parchment too new for documents supposedly years old. "Item two: ritual implements found in the Dawnblade estate's hidden chambers."

The moment I'd been working toward my entire life. Leadership. Control. Power. Everything I'd earned. Everything I'd sacrificed for. Including my freedom, apparently. The weight of the wedding ring on my finger was a constant reminder of the price I'd paid to stand here. But it was worth it. It had to be worth it. "Gentlemen," Brendan said, his voice carrying the authority of a man who'd commanded respect for over fifty years. "We're here today to mark a transition. One that's been a long time coming."

The corridor had been reopened under a military authorization signed by Diana's delegation. The air inside the wagon changed. No one needed to explain what an unlisted passage could do to a reception already crowded with guards, candidates, and diplomatic observers. Lorelai kept her fingertips on the authorization long enough to feel its ordinary, dangerous solidity. A signature had done this. Not a spell, not a rumor: a choice recorded by people who expected the record to disappear among official copies. Karl's hand rested on the table's edge, still apart from hers. "What do you need?"

I asked. Gabriel’s jaw tightened as he looked at the signature. “The administrative officer.” “The same officer connected to Silas?” I asked. “Yes.” confirmed Gabriel. I pushed the paper away, my disbelief turning into anger. “My mother ordered them to stop, and four days later someone overruled her.” Gabriel nodded. “Which means either your mother’s authority was deliberately ignored or someone forged an authorization.” I looked at the signature again, studying every mark. “Can you tell if it’s genuine?”

I said. He produced a folder from his jacket without argument, and I flipped through it with hands that had gone cold despite the growing warmth of the late morning sun now filtering through the building's high, dust streaked windows. A survey authorization, dated three days ago, bearing a signature I recognized immediately, because I had spent the last several hours staring at variations of it on documents Marisol had personally handed me less than two hours earlier. "This is forged," I said quietly. "Exactly like the transfer document. Exactly like Renata's signature. Whoever is running this operation has been forging my family's signatures for weeks, possibly longer, building an entire pa

“My father's signature?” He took the older document. For several seconds, he said nothing. “My father signed hundreds of documents and you think this one is not his.” “I think we need someone who can verify it,” I said. Soren nodded, “I know someone.” He reached for his phone, I stopped him. “Before you call anyone, what if the person who forged it knew your father's signature?” Soren lowered the phone. “Then they had access to his documents.” “And his authorization,” I added.

"The one your father was offered before he collapsed. Marcus's people didn't destroy it when Richard turned it down. They kept it, unsigned, as leverage in case they needed to suggest publicly that he had considered it seriously, even if he never actually agreed." I stared at the shape of my father's name at the bottom of a page he had never actually put his own hand to, a forged suggestion of consent dressed up carefully enough to be dangerous if the right lawyer looked at it under the wrong light. My fingers traced the false signature without meaning to, as if touching it might reveal exactly how it had been made. "This is fraud."