“No,” I agreed.

The progress bar reached eighty percent.

The hard drive inside my modified laptop let out a high-pitched whine.

The screen flashed once, turning solid black, before a series of system directories populated the left margin.

I clicked on the primary folder labeled *ACQUISITIONS_ARCHIVE_2015*.

Inside were dozens of bank routing sheets and wire confirmations.

The sender’s name on every single document was redacted with a digital black bar.

But the routing number belonged to the Vale family trust.

I moved the cursor to the signature block at the bottom of the first wire transfer.

I ran a quick script to strip away the image overlay.

The black bar faded.

Underneath it, a scanned signature appeared in dark blue ink.

It was a sharp, elegant cursive with a distinct, elongated loop on the first letter.

I felt Alexander stiffen beside me.

His hand reached out, his fingers gripping the edge of the desk so hard his knuckles turned white.

“That’s not possible,” he whispered.

I looked at the signature.

It read *Arthur Vale*.

“It is your father’s signature, Alexander,” I said softly.