“Marisol, please,” Celeste said. “We have the clean title certificate right here.”

“A title certificate is only as good as the search,” I said.

“And the search was clean because Graham made sure certain files were misplaced.”

I turned to Alden.

“Tell them how he did it, Alden,” I said.

Alden took a deep breath, his chest rising and falling beneath his wet shirt.

“Three years ago, Graham asked me to archive the family papers,” Alden said.

“He told me he was organizing them for a historical society.”

“But he had me remove the easement deed from the active county books.”

Marisol looked at Alden, her expression hardening.

“You helped him hide a registered easement?” Marisol asked.

“I didn’t know his full plan at the time,” Alden said, his voice cracking.

“But yes. I kept quiet.”

“You coward,” Celeste hissed at Alden.

Alden flinched but didn’t look away from the table.

“I have the email correspondence from Graham instructing me to do it,” Alden said.

“I have printed copies in my portfolio right here.”

Graham lunged across the table, reaching for Alden’s papers.