“It’s a transfer log,” my father said. “For a shell company called Apex Holdings.”

My mother blinked, her eyes darting from the phone to her father.

“I don’t know what that is,” she said.

“Apex Holdings is registered in the Cayman Islands,” my father said. “It was established three years ago.”

He scrolled to the second page of the document and zoomed in on a signature.

“And the registered agent is you, Claire.”

My mother’s breath caught in her throat.

She reached out for the edge of the mantle to steady herself.

“That’s a forgery,” she whispered. “I’ve never signed anything like that.”

“Your notary stamp is on the page, Claire,” my father said. “And the bank account linked to it has received twelve transfers over the last eighteen months.”

He looked at Martin.

“All of them came directly from the payroll and operating accounts of Whitaker Construction’s Midwest division,” my father said.

“That is division money!” Martin yelled, his face turning a deep, angry red. “I run that division. I have the authority to allocate funds as I see fit!”