I was twenty-eight weeks with triplets and bleeding on a hotel sofa when my husband adjusted his tie and went downstairs. Four days later a man I had never met put a small black recorder on my hospital bed.

Financial authorisations. Two campaign transfers. A series of corporate guarantees. And a resignation from the Voss Foundation dated the previous November.

Nine of those eleven are forged and a handwriting examiner has said so in writing.

Two of them are not.

Two of them I signed.

In the October of 2021, at our kitchen table, at about eleven at night, Callum put two documents in front of me and said they were for the accountant and that he needed them back in the morning.

I signed both without reading one line.

They are a general authority and a power over the corporate vehicles that sit under the foundation's operating arm.

Every single one of the nine forgeries is only possible because of those two.

I have had four months to be angry about a handwriting examiner's report and I have spent most of it being angry about eleven o'clock on a Tuesday in 2021.