Richard tried to puff out his chest. “This is a private corporate event, Clara. Leave immediately.”
“Then it should be very easy for you to explain to your investors why you attempted to underwrite a $1.25 million commercial loan using a fraudulent property guarantee forged against my primary residence.”
A lead investor in the second row stood up. “What guarantee?”
Eva stepped forward and handed a thumb drive to the A/V technician near the back, instructing him under threat of immediate civil subpoena to display the flagged files. The screen changed, displaying the draft loan agreement, my home’s title, and a glaringly forged signature alongside my forged notary stamp.
Sarah lunged forward. “That doesn’t prove anything!”
“You’re right,” I said calmly. “Which is why I brought the audio.”
The room went dead silent as the recording played over the house speakers.
Eleanor’s loud, aristocratic voice boomed across the ballroom:
