The headlights of his SUV suddenly flickered, casting long, dancing shadows across the wet ground.

Julian backed up toward his driver’s side door.

“I’ve given you what you need,” Julian said to me. “But you need to act fast. Brandon is trying to liquidate the remaining stock tomorrow morning.”

“He can’t,” Arthur said. “Not without Ava’s signature.”

“He has her signature,” Julian said. “Or at least, the version of it he practiced.”

Julian got into his car, started the engine, and backed out of the space.

His tires splashed water onto my father’s trousers as he drove away.

My father didn’t even flinch.

He just stood there in the rain, staring at the envelope in my hands.

“Give it to me, Ava,” my father said. “Please.”

It was the first time I had ever heard him say that word to me.

“No,” I said.

“You don’t understand what will happen,” he said, stepping closer. “The bank is already auditing the accounts. If they find the original will, they will know the signatures on the transfers were forged.”

“That’s the point, Dad,” I said.