The board expected tears. Celia gave them timestamps.
Money moved through shell firms with names that sounded like weather. Votes changed after midnight calls. A signature appeared on a consent form Celia had never seen.
Her aunt laughed once, bright and brittle. "Digital noise. You cannot prove intent."
"I brought intent."
The side door opened.
An old man stepped in with a cane, a wool coat, and the kind of silence that made expensive lawyers sit straighter.
Celia watched recognition spread across the table.
Her grandfather had been declared medically unfit two months before the inheritance vote.
He looked at Celia's uncle and said, "I remember everything."