Chapter 4: The Signature That Wasn't Hers
For several seconds, nobody spoke.
Lena stood beside the table, staring at the photograph on Celeste's phone.
The document looked official. It carried her full legal name, Quentin's date of birth, and a signature that resembled hers closely enough to fool someone who had never watched her sign her name thousands of times.
But Lena knew her handwriting.
She knew the slight upward curve of the L.
She knew how her hand sometimes pressed too hard against the paper when she was tired.
And she knew one thing with absolute certainty.
She had never signed away her son.
"Give me that phone," Lena said.
Celeste pulled it against her chest.
"Why? So you can pretend it doesn't exist?""
"I want to see it.""
"You've seen enough.""
Quentin stepped between them.
"Celeste, hand it over.""
She looked at him with wounded disbelief.
"You're taking her side again?""
"I'm asking you to show us a document you're using to accuse my mother.""
Celeste reluctantly placed the phone on the table.
Quentin enlarged the photograph.
The document appeared to be a notarized parental relinquishment agreement, dated six weeks before his eighteenth birthday.
There was a signature.
A notary stamp.
And a witness line.
Quentin looked at his mother.
"Mom, why would someone create this?""
Lena shook her head.
"I don't know.""
Russell pulled out a chair.
"Because it wasn't created the way Celeste is making it look.""
Celeste turned sharply.
"Russell, stop talking.""
He ignored her.
"That document was drafted years ago, when Quentin was eighteen.""
Lena stared at him.
"Drafted by whom?""
Russell rubbed his forehead.
"An attorney I knew.""
"Why?""
Russell hesitated.
Celeste answered for him.
"Because your relationship with Quentin was becoming difficult.""
Lena's expression hardened.
"His relationship with me?""
"You were working constantly. He was spending more time at our house. Russell thought it might be easier if we formalized things.""
Quentin stared at his father.
"You wanted Mom to give up her parental rights?""
"No," Russell said quickly.
"It wasn't like that.""
"Then what was it like?""
Russell looked down.
"We discussed changing certain arrangements.""
Lena laughed once, without humor.
"Changing arrangements? Quentin was eighteen. There was nothing to arrange.""
"Celeste wanted legal recognition.""
"Of what?"" Lena asked.
"That she had helped raise someone else's child?""
Celeste slammed her palm against the table.
"I was there!""
Her voice echoed through the small room.
"I was there when he needed a father. I was there when you were too busy working to attend every school event. I was there when he came home upset because his friends had both parents at their games!""
Lena's eyes filled, but she didn't look away.
"You were there because Russell was your husband. I was working because somebody had to pay the bills.""
Celeste's jaw tightened.
"You always make yourself the victim.""
"No," Lena replied.
"I make sure my son knows who stayed.""
Quentin closed his eyes.
He remembered those years.
He remembered his mother coming home with swollen feet, leaving groceries on the counter, and falling asleep before she could finish dinner.
He remembered Celeste's house too.
The large kitchen.
The expensive television.
The comfortable bedroom his father had prepared for him.
But he also remembered the nights he had called Lena because he missed her.
And she had answered, even during breaks at work.
"Who witnessed this document?"" Quentin asked.
Russell leaned forward.
"An attorney named Harold Whitmore.""
"Is he still practicing?""
"I believe so.""
Quentin looked at the date.
"Then we're going to speak to him.""
Celeste shook her head.
"That is unnecessary.""
"Why?""
"Because the document was never completed.""
Quentin turned toward her.
"Then why are you showing it to me?""
Celeste's mouth tightened.
Russell finally answered.
"Because the original was never signed by your mother.""
Silence.
Lena looked at him.
"How do you know?""
Russell swallowed.
"Because I was there.""
Quentin's eyes narrowed.
"At the attorney's office?""
Russell nodded.
"Your mother refused. She told us she would never sign anything that made her less of your mother.""
Lena's face crumpled.
She remembered that meeting now.
A lawyer's office.
A stack of papers.
Russell insisting it was just a formality.
Celeste sitting beside him, wearing a pale blue suit and smiling as though everything had already been decided.
Lena had read the first page.
Then the second.
When she understood what they were asking, she had pushed the papers away.
"I told you no," she whispered.
Russell nodded.
"You did.""
"Then how did my signature end up there?""
Russell looked at Celeste.
She stood very still.
Quentin picked up the phone again.
"Where did this photograph come from?""
Celeste reached for it.
"Give that back.""
He moved it away.
"Answer me.""
"Your father gave me the document.""
Russell shook his head.
"I gave you a copy of the draft.""
"Exactly.""
"Not a signed original.""
Celeste's expression changed.
For the first time, Quentin saw something other than anger in her eyes.
Fear.
Simone stepped closer.
"Quentin, look at the bottom.""
He zoomed in.
There was a small line of text beneath the notary stamp.
Certified copy.
But the certification date was from only four months earlier.
Quentin frowned.
"How could a document from years ago have been certified four months ago?""
Russell went pale.
"That's impossible.""
Celeste reached for her purse.
"I think this conversation is over.""
Quentin blocked the door.
"Not until you tell me who certified it.""
She looked at him.
"You have no right to hold me here.""
"I'm not holding you here. I'm asking a question.""
Celeste's eyes shifted toward Russell.
Then she said something that made Lena's stomach turn.
"Ask your father. He was the one who wanted this document brought back.""
Quentin turned.
"Dad?""
Russell looked as though the air had disappeared from the room.
"I didn't ask her to use it against your mother.""
"Did you ask her to get it certified?""
Russell didn't answer.
Lena slowly stepped away from the table.
"Russell, what have you done?""
He opened his mouth.
Before he could speak, Quentin's phone vibrated.
An unknown number.
A message appeared.
*My name is Harold Whitmore. I was your parents' attorney. I just heard about the document being circulated.
Do not let Celeste destroy it. The original file contains something you need to see.*
Quentin read it twice.
Then another message arrived.
And Quentin, your father knows why your mother's signature was copied.
Quentin lifted his eyes toward Russell.
"Why would the attorney say that?""
May you like
Russell's face crumpled.
And for the first time that night, he had no excuse ready.
