“That is a confidential draft from our corporate counsel,” Adrian said, though his voice lost a fraction of its confidence.

“No,” Grace said. “That is a forged trust amendment.”

The room went entirely silent.

The only sound was the soft, rhythmic hum of the building’s ventilation system.

“What are you talking about?” Adrian demanded, his face reddening.

“Three weeks ago, an amendment bypassing the biological heir clause was submitted to the trust’s depository bank,” Grace explained.

She looked directly at Margaret, ignoring Adrian entirely.

“It bore your signature, Mrs. Whitmore. And the signature of the trust’s chief trustee, Harold Vance.”

Margaret’s brow furrowed as she turned the pages of the document.

“I never signed this,” Margaret said, her voice dropping to a whisper.

“Exactly,” Grace said. “We ran a forensic analysis on the digital signatures. They were lifted from an annual corporate report you signed two years ago.”

“This is ridiculous,” Adrian stammered, standing up so quickly his chair scraped loudly against the floor. “It was a template. An administrative placeholder.”

“It was submitted as an executed document to secure a fifty-million-dollar credit line for the Whitmore Grand development,” Grace said.