“I had it officially digitized and registered with the county clerk’s office,” I said.

“It is a matter of public record now.”

“The original paper copy doesn’t matter anymore.”

Richard leaned forward, his hands flat on the desk.

“Is this true, Emily?” Richard asked.

“It is,” I said.

“Arthur Vance handled the filing.”

“The digital copy has a certified electronic signature and a county watermark.”

Daniel stepped back, his heel catching on the edge of the Persian rug.

He stumbled slightly, reaching out to grip the edge of the filing cabinet.

“No,” he whispered.

“No, you couldn’t have.”

“You didn’t even know about the offshore accounts until three days ago.”

“I didn’t need to know about the accounts to protect my inheritance,” I said.

“I knew you were lying to me the moment you asked for the extension on the business loan.”

“I registered the contract the very next day.”

Richard let out a long, slow breath through his teeth.

He looked at his son with a mixture of pity and anger.

“You’ve ruined us, Daniel,” Richard said.

“If that contract is registered, the corporate veil is pierced.”