“They are forged, Henry,” Julian said. “We have the metadata from the server in Munich.”

“I see that,” Blum said, his voice flat. “I also see the dual-ledger transactions from the Grand Cayman accounts.”

The engine of the red convertible roared to life, coughing a cloud of white exhaust into the damp air.

Celeste did not look back as she pulled away from the curb, leaving Bennett standing alone on the wet sidewalk.

“My firm cannot represent a client who submits fabricated evidence to a federal court,” Blum said.

“Are you withdrawing?” Julian asked.

“I am drafting the formal notice to the judge now,” Blum replied. “I will not risk disbarment for Bennett Whitlock.”

“And the deposition tomorrow?” Julian asked.

“There will be no deposition,” Blum said. “I am advising Mr. Whitlock to seek criminal counsel immediately.”

The line went dead with a soft, definitive click.

Julian lowered the phone to his lap.

“He is completely isolated,” I said.

My hand was trembling slightly against my knee, and I clenched my fingers into a fist to stop it.