“I have the signature cards, Derek,” I said. “And the transfer authorizations with your signature next to mine.”

“You forged my signature?” he asked, his voice rising.

“No,” I said. “You forged mine. But the forensic examiner was able to prove the handwriting was yours.”

Arthur looked at his son, his expression hardening.

“Is this true, Derek?” Arthur asked.

“Father, she is setting me up,” Derek said, his voice cracking slightly. “She wants a divorce, and she is trying to ruin me to get a larger settlement.”

“The documents speak for themselves,” I said.

I reached into my pocket and pulled out my phone.

I tapped the screen and opened the digital folder Annika had prepared for me.

“I can email the complete file to your tablet right now, Arthur,” I said.

Arthur reached into his jacket and pulled out his reading glasses.

“Send it,” Arthur said.

“Arthur, no,” Eleanor pleaded, stepping toward her husband. “This is our son. We must handle this privately.”

“If he has stolen from the firm, Eleanor, there is no private way to handle it,” Arthur said.