One sentence.
Enough to change Mercer North from a dormant holding company into a controlling gatekeeper.
Enough to place Lake Mercer beneath my legal authority.
I read the signature again.
Something bothered me.
Not the shape.
The placement.
“Zoom in.”
Ruiz photographed the page with her tablet.
I enlarged the signature.
My father always signed at a slight upward angle.
This signature did too.
But the line beneath it was straight.
Perfectly straight.
I stared.
“It’s copied.”
Evelyn leaned forward.
“What?”
“It was lifted from another document.”
“How can you tell?”
“The angle.”
Liam frowned.
I pointed.
“Dad turned documents when he signed them.”
A memory came back.
His office.
Me teasing him.
Why do you rotate everything?
Because paper should meet the hand, Maya. The hand should not chase the paper.
I could almost hear him.
“When Dad signed, the signature angled upward relative to the paper because he rotated the page.”
