By afternoon, Russo called.
Adrian stepped into the hallway, but through the glass I saw his posture change.
When he came back, the room seemed colder.
“What?” I asked.
He closed the door.
“The divorce decree is real,” he said. “Filed four months ago. Digitally signed by both of us.”
“I signed on paper.”
“Your signature was scanned. Mine was authenticated through my legal office.”
Mara sat upright. “So someone in your office did it.”
“Yes.”
“Who had access?”
Adrian looked at me. “My general counsel. Two senior associates. My brother.”
The last two words landed softly, which made them worse.
“Matteo?” I said.
Adrian’s younger brother had always been charming in a restless, wounded way. He brought flowers to dinners and stayed late to help me clear plates. He called me Ellie when Adrian was not listening because he knew Adrian disliked nicknames. After the divorce, he had sent one message: I’m sorry he chose the family over you.
I had deleted it, then cried for twenty minutes.
“Matteo wouldn’t,” I said automatically.
Adrian’s face was unreadable. “I don’t know what Matteo would do anymore.”
Before we could say more, there was a knock.
A nurse I didn’t recognize entered carrying a small white envelope. She was young, with freckles and nervous hands.
“Sorry,” she said. “This was left at the nurses’ station for Ms. Walsh.”
Adrian stood. “By whom?”
“I’m not sure. Volunteer desk, maybe.”
He reached for it, then stopped and looked at me.