“She is a patient in the burn unit,” Rachel said, her voice sharp. “You need to leave now.”

Vance ignored her, opening the brass clasps of his briefcase with two loud clicks.

The metallic sound echoed in the quiet room.

“Ethan is currently in custody, but that will not last,” Vance said.

He pulled out a stack of papers bound by a blue legal jacket.

“These are the modified trust agreements you signed last year,” he said.

“I never signed those,” I said, my chest tightening.

“Your signature is on the notary page, Natalie,” Vance said, his voice flat.

“It is a forgery, Harold,” I said. “And you know it.”

His phone buzzed again, vibrating against his ribs.

He reached into his pocket and silenced it without looking.

“We can resolve this quietly,” Vance said.

“We can transfer the disputed assets to a neutral holding account today.”

“No,” I said.

I looked at Rachel, my eyes pleading.

“Call security, Rachel,” I said.

Rachel reached for the wall-mounted intercom.

Vance watched her, his eyes narrowing.

“This is a mistake,” Vance said, closing his briefcase.