“Look at the signatures at the bottom of the authorization letters.”

I leaned forward, my chest tightening as I read the name.

The name was printed in clear, bold ink.

Mark Darcy.

“My father,” I whispered.

“Yes,” Ana said. “Abigail spent the last five years of her life tracking his business transactions.”

“He used her connection to secure international lines of credit.”

“Then he funneled the money into these hidden accounts to avoid taxes and creditors.”

“It is highly illegal, Alana.”

“If this ledger goes to the federal prosecutors, your father faces decades in prison.”

I touched the rough paper of the ledger.

“That is why he wanted me declared incompetent,” I said, the realization hitting me like cold water.

“Exactly,” Ana said. “If you are deemed mentally unfit, he takes over the estate.”

“And as the administrator, he can legally destroy these files.”

“He is desperate.”

“He knows Abigail kept a paper trail, and he knows you are the only one who can unlock it.”

The curtain to my cubicle clicked open.

A young doctor in blue scrubs walked in, checking his digital tablet.