We walked past the lawyer and the officer, out into the pouring rain.

A black town car was idling at the curb.

Caleb opened the rear door for us.

As I stepped inside the warm vehicle, my phone buzzed one last time.

It was an email notification.

The sender was Grant.

*You think you won,* the subject line read.

I opened the message.

It was a scanned copy of a document I had never seen before.

It was a deed of transfer for the Maribel project.

And at the bottom was my signature, dated yesterday.

I stared at the screen as the town car pulled away from the curb.

The tires splashed through the deep puddles as we headed toward the harbor.

I looked at the signature on the screen, my heart stopping.

It looked exactly like mine.

But I knew I hadn’t signed anything.

I looked at Diane.

“He forged my name,” I whispered.

“On the master deed.”

Diane leaned closer, her eyes scanning the screen.

“The board meeting is in twenty minutes,” she said, her voice grim.