“What do you mean you don’t need to?” she snapped. “Don’t be lazy, Jocelyn. This is my home we are talking about. The home your daughters visit—though goodness knows they don’t appreciate the heritage of it.”

Mentioning Ruby and Hazel made my chest tighten, but I kept my face completely blank.

“I don’t need to look them up,” I repeated, “because I already know who owns the deed of trust.”

Gloria frowned, her brow furrowing.

“What are you talking about? How could you possibly know that?”

I reached into my desk drawer and pulled out a black leather folder.

I opened it and slid a document across the desk, placing it right next to her letter.

It was the original acquisition agreement for the Highland Park debt portfolio, signed three days ago.

My signature, *Jocelyn Ralston, Managing Director*, was written in clear, dark blue ink at the bottom of the page.

Gloria stared at the document.

She blinked, her eyes scanning the lines of text.

“This… this is a forgery,” she whispered, her voice losing its sharp edge.

“It is a legally binding contract,” I said.