When Keiko Morita entered the room, Imani quietly directed her attention to the relevant schedule.
The attorney examined the page.
Then checked the document's date.
Her expression changed.
For several seconds, she said nothing.
Then she looked toward Walter.
“Mr. Sterling, I need to ask a question.”
The billionaire turned.
Keiko held up the schedule.
“Why does this current execution package appear to contain an authorization signed by your late wife?”
Walter stared.
The room became silent.
Julian looked as though somebody had pulled the floor out from beneath him.
And Conrad Vale began moving toward the door.
Walter Sterling hadn't seen his wife's handwriting on a business document in nearly four years.
Eleanor had signed thousands of papers during their marriage. In the early years, she handled invoices, payroll, bank correspondence, and the company's first significant financing agreements. Later, when the business grew too complicated for either of them to manage alone, she remained deeply involved in the family trust and charitable foundation.
Her signature was distinctive.
A large, sweeping first letter.
Careful spacing.
And a final flourish that made it look almost like a piece of calligraphy.
Walter could recognize it instantly.
So when Keiko Morita placed the certification before him, he knew what he was looking at.
At least, he knew whose name appeared.
He didn't yet know how it had reached the page.
He stared at the date.
Then at the signature.
For several seconds, his expression didn't change.
Then he whispered, “That's impossible.”
Keiko remained calm.
“I agree that it requires immediate examination.”
Walter's fingers tightened around the paper.
“Eleanor died four years ago.”
Julian stepped forward.
“Dad, that's an archival certification.”
Walter looked up.
“What?”
His son gestured toward the folder.
“The transaction team included historical trust documentation as part of the background.”
Keiko shook her head.
“This isn't labeled as a historical exhibit.”
Julian frowned.
“It may have been assembled incorrectly.”
The attorney turned toward him.
“Then why does it state that the authorization was executed this month?”
For several seconds, Julian said nothing.
Conrad Vale returned to the window, apparently reconsidering his attempt to leave.
Walter slowly stood.
His face was gray.
“Julian.”
The younger man looked toward him.
“Dad.”
Walter lifted the paper.
“Did you put your mother's signature on this?”
Julian stared.
“No.”
“Then who did?”
“I don't know.”
Keiko stepped forward.
“Mr. Sterling, we should stop the execution process immediately. The document's authenticity and legal effect need independent review.”
Walter nodded without looking at her.
He was still staring at his son.
“Your mother.”
Julian swallowed.
“Dad, listen—”
“Your mother.”
His voice broke.