Chapter 3 Forged Signature
Adeline enlarged the forged statement and read through it carefully.
The forgery was glaringly obvious. Every stroke began and ended at angles that differed by fifteen degrees from her usual hand. Her A's always had a flat crossbar; this one tilted upward noticeably. But at a quick glance, you'd never catch it—and that was more than enough for the committee to revoke her entry within twenty-four hours.
Adeline called Desmond right away.
"Mr. Watson, this is Adeline," she said. "I just received an email about a change to my entry status. I never signed any document withdrawing from the competition."
The sound of papers being flipped came through the line. "The application did come through to me," Desmond said, his tone uncertain. "Honestly, when I looked at the signature just now, I thought it was yours."
"It's forged," Adeline said, her voice steady. "You can pull my original signature from my registration at any time and run a handwriting comparison."
Desmond went quiet for a few seconds. "The one who submitted the application was Louis—president of the Stuart Group. Are you sure you want to go ahead with the verification process?"
"I'm sure."
"Alright." A chair scraped softly on his end. "The verification takes forty-eight hours. During that time, your entry status will be temporarily frozen—neither side can make any changes."
After she hung up, Adeline tapped her fingers lightly on the desk and ran through the situation in her head. A temporary freeze meant Vivian couldn't take the spot either. That was enough for now. Once the forty-eight hours were up and the results came back, Louis forging her signature would be an established fact. But she had no intention of letting the committee quietly bury this internally.
Adeline opened her laptop, packaged the screenshot of the forged statement along with the committee's original email, encrypted everything, and sent it to her new lawyer, Martin. Then she flipped through her contacts and dialed another number.
"Ms. Green?"
A burst of rapid keyboard clicking came first, then a woman's voice. "Adeline? It's been a while. What's up?"
Aurora Green was the editor-in-chief of Crown Weekly, an independent media outlet in Silverlight City. Adeline had met her at an art show in her previous life. Aurora had always admired her work—but after the Stuart family started pushing back, the two had gradually lost touch.
"I've got an exclusive for you," Adeline said, cutting straight to it. "The eldest son of the Stuart Group forged a signature to steal an independent designer's spot in an international competition. Interested?"
The typing on the other end stopped dead. A few seconds of silence, then Aurora's voice came back, barely containing her excitement. "Tell me everything."
"In forty-eight hours, I'll send you the full evidence package—including the official handwriting analysis report."
"Deal."
Adeline hung up, and for the first time, a small smile crossed her face.
The following evening, in the Stuart family's private dining room, Helen's phone buzzed first. She set down her cutlery and read the screen, her frown deepening with every line.
"Louis," Helen said, her voice heavy, "the organizing committee just sent an email. The handwriting verification failed. Adeline's entry has been reinstated—and they're demanding a written explanation from us regarding the forged document."
Louis froze mid-cut, his knife still pressed against the steak. Matthew's head snapped up. Vivian's hand tightened around her water glass, something shifting quickly behind her eyes.
"How is that possible?" Louis put down his cutlery, grabbed the phone, and scanned through the email. His temples throbbed. He slammed the phone face-down on the table. "It's nothing," he said, forcing a calm he didn't feel. "I'll sort it out with the committee later."
"I'm afraid it's gone beyond the committee."
Gideon, who had been silent at the far end of the table, spoke up and turned his phone screen toward the others. The headline from Crown Weekly had just gone live: #Stuart Group Eldest Son Allegedly Forged Signature to Steal Independent Designer's Competition Spot!
The article didn't name Adeline directly, and the language was relatively measured—but it included screenshots of the forged document, the committee's email, and the entry freeze notice. The evidence was clear. There was no way to argue against it.
The color drained from Louis's face. Helen's cutlery slipped from her fingers and clattered onto her plate. Matthew asked through clenched teeth, "Adeline did this?"
Vivian's fingers curled tighter around her glass, the water inside rippling gently. She lowered her head immediately, letting her hair fall across most of her face, her voice carefully unsteady. "This is all my fault... If I hadn't wanted to enter the competition, none of this would have happened..." She looked up suddenly, eyes red, and met Louis's gaze. "Should I just give up the spot? I'll go apologize to Adeline myself—beg her to let this go. Would that work?"
Helen pulled Vivian into her arms at once, her face full of concern. "This has nothing to do with you! That ungrateful little—"
"Enough."
Robert, who hadn't said a word, dropped his napkin on the table with a sharp thud. His expression was dark. "Louis. Forging the signature—was that your idea?"
Louis's jaw tightened. His gaze flicked to Vivian. Three days ago, she had come to him in tears, claiming Adeline had gone behind their backs to cut the Stuarts out of the competition entirely. He'd panicked and forged the signature. Now he swallowed the explanation rising in his throat. "It was my decision."
Robert brought his hand down hard on the table. The red wine in the glasses rippled. "Every bit of fallout from this—you clean it up yourself," he said, his voice cold. "The Stuart family's reputation cannot take another hit."
Louis's jaw was tight. "I'll handle it."
He took out his phone and called Adeline directly. She picked up quickly.
"Adeline," Louis said, pushing down his anger, his tone carrying its usual edge of arrogance. "Get the media to pull the story. I'll make sure the committee doesn't give you any more trouble."
Two seconds of quiet on the other end, then Adeline's voice came through—calm and flat. "Louis, you forged my signature and tried to steal my competition spot. What needs to be taken back isn't the news story. It's the hand you never should have reached out in the first place."
"You—"
"And I'm formally notifying you," Adeline continued, her pace unhurried—but every word made Louis go rigid. "The forged statement and every email between me and the committee have already been handed over to my lawyer. If the Stuart family doesn't issue a public apology within forty-eight hours, this won't just be a media story anymore. I'll be filing a court summons. I'm taking you to court."
The dining room went completely still. The call was on speaker. Every word Adeline said rang out clearly across the room.
Helen's face flushed deep red. Her mouth opened, but nothing came out. Matthew gripped the arms of his chair so hard his knuckles went white. Vivian stared, genuinely stunned. She hadn't expected Adeline to push this far. In her mind, Adeline would have quietly gone to the committee and pleaded her case—and the spot would have ended up with her anyway. This was not how it was supposed to go.
At the far end of the table, the tendons in the back of Gideon's hand stood out against his skin as he held his glass.
Then the line went dead.
The silence at the table held. Under the table, Vivian's hand slowly curled into a fist, her nails pressing hard into her palm.
Across the city, in her attic apartment in the old quarter, Adeline set down her phone and walked to the window. She reached up to push it open for some air. Her fingers brushed the cold frame, and she jerked back. She was on the fourth floor. She looked down at the ground, then quietly pulled her hand back and shut the window again.
She returned to her desk and opened the encrypted folder labeled Evidence. Her eyes settled on one subfolder she hadn't opened yet.
Its name was just four simple words: The Balcony.
