“We will go to my study,” Roman said to me. “You will show me exactly where these numbers diverge.”

I nodded, keeping my expression neutral, though my heart was hammering against my ribs.

I turned to pick up the ledger, but as I lifted it, a small, folded piece of paper slipped from between the back pages and fell to the floor.

It hadn’t been there before.

It must have been dislodged when the book hit the floor during the shooting.

I bent down and picked it up.

The paper was thick, expensive, and carried the scent of heavy cologne.

On the outside, my name was written in elegant, flowing cursive.

I unfolded it, my fingers trembling slightly.

Inside was a single typed sentence and a phone number.

*You are looking in the wrong ledger, Maeve.*

I stared at the words, the cold air from the broken window chilling my skin.

Before I could fold it back up, Roman’s hand reached down and took the paper from my fingers.

He read the sentence, his jaw tightening as he stared at the handwriting on the front.