The photograph trembled in my hand.
Daniel looked as if every secret he had buried had risen at once.
“What does this mean?” I whispered.
He said nothing.
“Daniel.”
His silence was an answer.
Somewhere in the house, a clock struck midnight.
I looked down at the photograph again, at the baby in my mother’s arms, at my father’s tired, loving eyes.
Not your father.
Evan had not just stolen a ledger.
He had stolen the truth of my life.
And wherever he was now, he knew exactly how to use it.
Then Daniel’s phone rang.
He glanced at the screen.
His face drained of color.
“What is it?” I asked.
He answered on speaker.
A woman’s voice came through, breathless and panicked.
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