“My brother Brandon took out a massive loan using my identity,” I said.

“He used my trust fund as collateral to cover his own personal debts.”

“My father, who manages the local branch, helped him do it.”

“They have frozen my account to cover Brandon’s liabilities.”

Dean Vance did not speak, her expression remaining unreadable.

She reached for the folder, flipped it open, and began to read.

She turned the pages slowly, her eyes darting across the bank records.

I watched her hands, noting how her fingers tightened on the edges of the paper.

She stopped at the signature page on the loan application.

“This is your signature, Ava,” she said, pointing to the bottom of the page.

“It is a forgery,” I said.

“Look at the date on that document.”

“I was in class here at Ellison during that exact hour.”

“I have the attendance records from Professor Miller’s seminar to prove it.”

I slid a printed sheet of paper from my pocket onto the desk.

She compared the dates and the times on both documents.

The silence in the office was deafening, save for the rain tapping on the windowpane.