My breath caught in my throat.

“That’s a lie,” I whispered, looking at the folders scattered across the mahogany desk.

“It’s not a lie, Sadie,” Melanie sneered, her voice trembling but sharp.

“Check the tax filings from 2018,” she said.

“Check the offshore holding accounts in the Caymans.”

I looked at Marcus, whose fingers were hovering over his keyboard.

“Is it true?” I asked him, my voice barely audible over the sound of the approaching sirens.

Marcus did not look at me.

He slowly scrolled down his screen, his glasses reflecting the blue light of the monitor.

“There is a signature page here,” Marcus said, his voice flat.

“It looks like your handwriting, Sadie.”

“They forged it,” Wyatt said, his hand tightening slightly on my shoulder.

“We can prove forgery in five minutes with a forensic document examiner.”

Melanie laughed, a harsh, dry sound that ended in a cough.

“By the time you prove that, Sadie will have been dragged through the mud,” she said.

“The papers will have a field day with the golden girl of the family being involved in a multi-million dollar tax evasion scheme.”