“I know,” Julian said. “He used a high-resolution scan of your signature from the 2018 corporate restructuring documents.”

He shut the folder with a sharp, heavy thud that echoed against the bookshelves.

“This is forgery, Evelyn. It’s grand larceny.”

“Can we stop the funds?” I asked.

“Not if they have already cleared into the Delaware account,” Julian said. “But we can use this proof of fraud to freeze every single domestic asset he has.”

He looked at his watch, his brow furrowed in calculation.

“The tenth-anniversary gala for The Monarch is tomorrow night,” he said.

“He has invited every major investor, city official, and journalist in New York,” I said.

“Let him,” Julian said, a cold light appearing in his eyes. “He needs to be on stage, fully committed, before we strike.”

“If we file the emergency injunction now, his lawyers will tip him off before the event,” I noted.

“We prepare the filings tonight,” Julian said. “We submit them under seal to Judge Harrison tomorrow afternoon. The moment Bennett steps off that stage, the freeze goes active.”

I felt a cold sweat on the back of my neck.