His voice was flat, carrying over the steady roar of the rain.

I ignored him and kept my eyes on Alden, whose face was pale in the dashboard light.

“How could he forge it?” I asked. “It needs a notary. It needs your stamp.”

“He didn’t use my stamp,” Alden said, a bead of sweat mixing with the rain on his temple.

“He used a notary from Richmond,” Alden whispered. “Someone Celeste knows through her charity board.”

“Celeste,” I repeated, the pieces of their alliance clicking into place.

“Yes,” Alden said. “She set it up. The document is backdated to last month, before you returned to Virginia.”

Graham tapped the glass again, harder this time, the flashlight making a dull thud against the pane.

“I know you’re in there, Alden,” Graham shouted. “And I know she’s with you.”

He leaned down, pressing his face close to the wet window.

His features were distorted through the water running down the glass, his eyes dark and devoid of any warmth.

“If he files it tomorrow, what happens?” I asked Alden, forcing my voice to remain steady.