Chapter 22: What the Paper Said

Mara's POV

The lawyer carried the page down the center aisle himself.

Two of his men followed, and the hall manager hurried at his elbow.

He stopped at the foot of the stage.

"Ms. Ostrow, I'm sorry to do this publicly," he said. "But Mr. Prentiss insisted."

"I'm sure he did."

He held up the paper so the first rows could see.

"This is a loan agreement dated Sunday the seventh. It says Halyard Labs lent you seventy-two thousand dollars, repayable on demand."

"It has your signature on page three."

I came down the steps, slowly, one hand on the rail.

My chest hurt in its familiar new way, and I was glad of it.

"May I see?"

He gave me the page.

It was good work.

Somebody had spent time on it.

The ink was blue, and the signature leaned right, with a long loop on the *M* and a swoop under the name.

It was beautiful handwriting.

I had never written my name that way in my life.

"Counsel," I said. "Do you have a pen?"

He handed me one.

I reached into my cardigan pocket, took out a folded paper napkin, and opened it on the edge of the stage.

It was creased soft from being carried and folded and put in a pillowcase.

At the bottom, in black letters, I had written *PAID IN FULL, M.O.*

"Nolan," I said. "Can you put this on the big screen?"

Nolan was already at the podium.

A camera over his laptop swung, and the napkin appeared thirty feet wide beside the lawyer's page.

On one side there were tall blue loops.

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