I looked up, forcing a nervous, ditzy laugh. “Oh, you know me, Bruno. My hands are so slippery from the furniture polish. Let me just go wash them in the bathroom first, and then I’ll sign whatever you need.”
I turned to leave, but Bruno’s hand shot out across the desk, grabbing my wrist with a terrifying, crushing grip. The gold pen clattered against the wood.
“You don’t need to wash your hands, Valerie,” Bruno whispered, his eyes flashing with a sudden, psychotic rage. He pulled me closer, his grip tightening until my bones popped. “Arthur is a very busy man. Sign the paper. Now.“
I looked at Arthur, the notary. He didn’t even blink. He just stared at his watch. He was in on it. They were all in on it.
“Bruno, you’re hurting me,” I gasped, trying to pull away, but he didn’t let go.
With his free hand, Bruno picked up the gold pen and forced it into my trembling fingers, clamping his massive hand over mine, physically forcing my hand down toward the paper.
“I said,” Bruno hissed in my ear, his breath hot and smelling of stale coffee, “sign the damn paper, you stupid bitch.”
The tip of the pen touched the crisp white paper. The ink began to bleed into the page, starting the first letter of my name. V.
Suddenly, from the hallway downstairs, the heavy electronic chime of our home security system shattered the tension.
