“I don’t care about Celeste,” I interrupted. “I want you at the registry office tomorrow morning.”

“I can’t,” he said.

“If you aren’t there with the original files,” I said, “the sheriff’s department will be at your office by noon.”

I didn’t wait for him to answer.

I hung up the phone.

My hands were shaking, but my heart was beating with a cold, steady purpose.

“You’re forcing his hand,” Arthur said.

“He had plenty of chances to do the right thing,” I said.

I spent the next two hours scanning the easement document and sending copies to a secure digital drive.

I put the original back into a waterproof folder and placed it in my leather briefcase.

Outside, the rain continued to beat against the glass, a steady, relentless rhythm.

I didn’t sleep that night.

I sat in the armchair by the window, watching the rain stop and the sky slowly turn from black to a pale, misty gray.

The Virginia hills emerged from the fog, rolling and green, untouched by the bulldozers Graham wanted to bring.

By eight o’clock, I was dressed in a dark blue suit.