“He said you were tightening your margins after your wife passed.”

Nathaniel felt a cold knot tighten in his throat.

He turned the blueprint sheet over to face the light hanging from the rafters.

At the bottom of the master inspection box for the warehouse acoustic arch, his own bold signature was stamped in black ink right beside Arthur Vance’s corporate seal.

“I signed every one of these payout approvals,” Nathaniel said, staring at his own handwriting.

“You trusted your subcontractor,” Martha said softly.