“He paid Dunleavy to keep it quiet.”

I stared at the paper, tears welling in my eyes.

All those years of struggling, of working double shifts at the diner.

All those nights of worrying if we would have enough money for groceries or medicine.

And the proof of our ownership had been sitting in a safe, and then in a wallet, all this time.

“Thomas didn’t abandon us,” I whispered.

“He secured our future.”

“Yes,” Nathaniel said softly.

“He did.”

Suddenly, the lights in the lobby flickered.

A low rumble sounded from the street outside.

I looked toward the glass doors, expecting another police car.

Instead, a black sedan pulled up to the curb, its headlights cutting through the darkness.

The passenger door opened, and a man stepped out into the rain.

He wore a long dark coat and carried a heavy leather portfolio.

He didn’t run from the rain; he walked slowly, with a strange, deliberate purpose.

As he approached the glass doors, the light from the lobby fell on his face.

My heart stopped.

I knew that face.