“She knew they were yours, Adrian,” Mercer said. “She kept the original results in a safe deposit box at the vault on Boylston Street.”

“Why are you telling me this now, Mercer?” I asked.

“Because they are transferring me to a federal unit tomorrow,” he said. “Your mother’s lawyers are trying to make me the sole scapegoat, and I want you to know I didn’t act alone.”

“You took her money,” I said.

“I did,” he whispered. “But she held the leash.”

The line went dead.

I slowly lowered the phone, my hand trembling against the cold glass of the window.

The reflection of the room showed Maren watching me from the dining table, her hands resting on the edge of the wooden surface.

Noah and Lila were still coloring, their heads bent close together over the blue waves on the paper.

I took a deep, steadying breath and slipped the phone back into my pocket.

“Adrian?” Maren asked, her voice soft but filled with caution.

“It was Mercer,” I said, turning around to face her.

She didn’t flinch, but her shoulders tightened under her green wool sweater.