He was holding the silver flash drive tightly in his right hand.

Jake froze.

His hand slid off Mr. Alvarez’s thin, pale wrist.

Carl walked down the corridor, his heavy work boots striking the green linoleum with a steady, rhythmic thud.

“Get away from his door, Jake,” Carl said.

Jake tried to straighten his shoulders, but in the narrow hallway, he suddenly looked much smaller.

“This is family business, Carl,” Jake said, his voice rising in pitch. “You don’t have a say here anymore.”

Carl held up the silver flash drive between his thumb and forefinger.

The metallic surface caught the dim yellow light of the hallway fixture.

“I have every say,” Carl said. “I have the digital ledger, the bank routing records, and the original deed.”

Jake’s eyes darted to the small piece of metal, his pupils dilating.

His face flushed a dark, angry red that spread from his collar up to his ears.

“That doesn’t mean a damn thing,” Jake spat. “My mother has the signed power of attorney.”

“That power of attorney is a fraud, and you know it,” I said, stepping up to stand beside Carl.