“Open the first folder, Mr. Harrison,” Judge Beckett directed.

The clerk clicked the mouse.

A document opened, displaying the corporate seal of Rourke Regional Mobility.

I leaned forward, my breath catching in my throat as the signatures at the bottom of the page came into view.

The name on the primary founder line was not Gavin’s.

It was mine, written in my tight, careful cursive, dated ten years ago.

Below it was the original operating agreement, never filed with the state, which granted me seventy percent of the voting shares.

Gavin stared at the screen, his face turning a gray, sickly color.

“This is a forgery,” Gavin muttered, his voice cracking as he gripped the edge of the defense table.

“Quiet, Mr. Rourke,” Judge Beckett said, her voice dropping an octave.

She leaned forward, her spectacles sliding down her nose as she studied the glowing blue monitor.

“Mr. Harrison, open the next document in that folder.”

The clerk clicked a file labeled *RRM_Restructuring_Executed_2018*.

This document showed my signature again, but this time it was clumsily pasted over a notary seal.