Chapter 36 · The Only Signature

"Sign it, Mrs. Voss." Vittorio Conti slid the transfer papers across the mahogany like he already owned the table. "Luca authorized it this morning. Ask him yourself if you're scared to use that pen."

I didn't touch it. Three million routed through a shell in the Caymans, my signature at the bottom line where CFO goes, and Luca's initials nowhere on the page. I'd been doing this long enough to smell a setup before I read the fine print.

"Funny," I said, "Luca doesn't authorize things at seven a.m. before coffee. He barely authorizes his own shoes."

Somebody at the far end of the table laughed, then swallowed it fast when Conti's jaw went tight.

"You've got ten seconds before this stops being polite," he said.

I flipped to page three, where the real money was. Clause buried under a paragraph about vendor liability — a transfer authorization that gave whoever held the account routing rights over every shell Luca used to move family cash. Not a payment. A takeover.

"You're not moving three million," I said, keeping my voice flat so it wouldn't shake. "You're moving control of every account I built for him in the last six months.