A green status indicator appeared.

“We are in,” Priya said, her voice dropping. “The authorization block is fully decrypted.”

“The system logs show Bennett’s private account logged into the Greenwich server at three-oh-five.”

“He initiated the document generation at three-ten.”

“He applied your digital signature using the administrative override at three-fifteen.”

“And he did it while your personal phone and passport were being logged in Paris,” Julian added, a cold smile touching his lips.

“The Paris IP addresses place you at the hotel Le Bristol at that exact minute,” I said.

“Yes,” Julian said. “You were checking into your suite and signing the gallery guestbook.”

“This is the physical impossibility we needed,” he continued.

“You could not have been in Greenwich, Connecticut, signing a document on a closed local server, while physically standing in a lobby in Paris.”

I looked at the black ledger on the table.

Celeste had kept these notes to protect herself from Bennett.

Instead, she had handed us the key to his destruction.

“Can we tie this physical ledger to Celeste?” I asked.

“Easily,” Julian said. “Her handwriting is distinctive, and her fingerprints will be on these pages.”