Now the past looked different. She remembered Henry asking her to visit, the unease in his voice, and the silence that followed when she asked whether Richard had been helping with the succession plan. She remembered the funeral, where Richard stood beside the family and promised to protect what Henry had built. She remembered how quickly the company's records had been reorganized afterward.
"He didn't die naturally," she whispered.
Daniel looked at her. "You don't know that yet."
"Someone was forging his signature. Someone had reasons to keep him quiet. He died three days after writing that warning." Her voice broke. "Tell me you wouldn't think the same thing."
"I would wonder," Daniel said. "And I'd want the people with the authority to investigate it to see these documents. Wondering isn't the same as knowing."
Victoria sat down on an empty crate. The distinction was painful but necessary. She had built much of her life around the fear of disappointing her father; the possibility that his death had been connected to betrayal inside the company threatened to undo every memory she trusted. Daniel waited beside her rather than rushing to offer comfort he could not honestly provide.
"He called the night before he died," she said finally. "I let it go to voicemail. I was working."
"Do you still have it?"
She nodded slowly. "I couldn't delete it."
"Then preserve it. The original message may matter."
They contacted company counsel and described the documents without making accusations. The lawyer instructed them to stop handling the signatures, preserve the box, and wait for a professional evidence team. Daniel asked Mr. Lawson to keep the archive open and to record everyone who entered. He also called the local police nonemergency number to ask about reporting suspicious access to the site and possible document tampering, explaining where they were and why the records might be sensitive.
The police desk officer told him a patrol unit would check the location and take the initial report. Daniel did not expect an immediate arrest or some dramatic arrival. He simply believed that dangerous uncertainty became easier to manage once it was documented by people outside the company's chain of command. He told Victoria what he had done, and she agreed.
While they waited, Daniel looked through the inventory list for the missing signature file. He found an entry written in a different hand, one that indicated several boxes had been requested by a senior executive shortly after Henry died. The signature beside the request had been scanned poorly, but the name beneath it was clear: R. Vail.
"He knew the originals were here," Daniel said.
Victoria stared at the line. "He always knew."
The sound of a truck outside broke the silence. Daniel looked through the dusty window and saw a dark vehicle pull into the lot. A second car stopped behind it, positioned across part of the entrance. Neither bore the company logo. Mr. Lawson came through the archive doorway with an uncertain expression.