“Victoria has never read a property deed in her life,” I said.

Pembroke leaned back in his leather chair, taking a slow, measured breath through his nose as he watched me.

“If you can prove clear title, Avery, I won’t put a single dollar into Brandon’s sinkhole,” Pembroke said.

“I’ll have the certified county title abstract on your desk before the weekend,” I said.

“Where is the original deed file right now?” Pembroke asked.

“Locked in Arthur Vance’s fireproof safe,” I said.