“It’s from Derek,” I said.

I turned the screen so he could see the image.

The blue light illuminated his weathered features.

He stared at the photo of his ransacked office for a long time.

“She broke the lock on the bottom drawer,” Carl said quietly.

“Does she know what she has?” I asked.

“No,” Carl said. “That ledger only contains old maintenance records from the nineties.”

He rubbed his forehead with a calloused hand.

“But she thinks it’s the proof she needs to show she has a claim,” he added.

“It doesn’t matter what she thinks,” I said. “We have the actual deed.”

I tapped the folder containing the legal documents.

“We serve them tomorrow morning,” I said. “We don’t wait.”

Carl looked at the silver flash drive on the table.

“You’re right,” he said. “The longer we wait, the more damage she can do to this place.”

We spent the next hour preparing the papers.

The apartment was cold, the radiator giving off only a faint, lukewarm heat.

I checked the language on the three-day notice to quit.

Every line had to be legally precise.