“We have the proof,” Daniel said. “But he still has the forged power of attorney.”

He reached over and touched his dashboard mount, where his phone was glowing.

An alert was flashing on the screen.

“What is that?” I asked.

Daniel glanced at the screen, his face hardening.

“It’s the land registry,” Daniel said. “Vance’s lawyers just submitted the transfer documents for the preservation land.”

“They’re moving faster than I expected,” Daniel said, his thumb tapping the steering wheel as we sped through the rain-slicked intersection.

The headlights of an oncoming truck illuminated the cabin, throwing long shadows across his tense face.

“Can they actually finalize it tonight?” I asked, clutching the leather folder containing the ledger against my chest.

“With the forged power of attorney, yes,” Daniel replied. “The county has an automated portal for expedited commercial transfers.”

He turned onto a darker, quieter street lined with brick office buildings.

“The system processes it instantly if there’s no active dispute flagged on the title,” he added.

“But there is a dispute,” I said. “We’re disputing it.”