There were two signatures at the bottom of the document.

One was Julian Bellamy, representing the Bellamy Group.

The other was Trevor Vance, acting as the family witness.

“Trevor signed this,” I said, my chest tightening. “He signed my father’s death certificate.”

“But why?” Charles asked, his eyes narrowing. “Trevor is just a restaurant manager.”

“He wasn’t always,” I said, looking at the date on the paper. “Back then, he was working directly for the Bellamy Group.”

I stared at the black ink of Trevor’s signature.

It looked exactly like the handwriting on the crumpled paper in my hand.

“They made him disappear,” I said. “And then they paid Trevor to sign this to make it official.”

“This is a major conspiracy, Emily,” Charles said. “If Julian Bellamy is involved, your father must have known something dangerous.”

The cold air from the open back door swept into the office, making me shiver.

I clutched the folder tightly against my apron.

“My mother,” I said suddenly.

Charles looked at me, his expression softening.

“What about her?” he asked.