“My father was forced to help Julian alter the public records,” I said. “He was terrified.”

“I know,” Alexander said, rubbing his thumb over the back of my hand.

“The prosecutors agreed to a plea deal,” he continued. “Because of his full cooperation and the evidence of coercion, they are recommending probation and no jail time.”

A heavy weight lifted from my chest, allowing me to take a full breath for the first time in months.

“He will have to pay a fine, and he will lose his notary license,” Alexander added. “But he will be free.”

“Thank you,” I whispered. “For helping him.”

“He is family, Claire,” Alexander said. “He helped us get the truth out.”

We rode in silence for the next hour as the SUV headed north, away from the city.

The high-rises of Manhattan gave way to the dark trees of upstate New York, and eventually, the highway toward New England.

We were heading to the coastal estate in Maine.

It was a house Alexander had bought under a different name years ago, before his brother had stolen his identity.