It was a broad financial power-of-attorney authorization, granting Veronica administrative access to Manuel’s personal accounts.

And at the bottom was Manuel’s signature.

Manuel leaned in, staring at the line, and his voice, when he spoke, was quiet but certain.

“Alvin,” he said.

“I didn’t sign that.” Carmen stepped closer, peering at it.

“It looks just like your hand, Manuel.” “It looks like a copy,” Manuel insisted, and there was a trembling dignity in his voice.

“I have signed my name the exact same way since I was nineteen years old.