“Are you alright?” she asked.

“I’m fine,” I said, though my hands were shaking.

I looked down at the floor, where a small black ledger lay near the pantry.

It must have fallen from Mark’s pocket during the scuffle.

I bent down and picked it up.

The leather cover was cracked and worn.

Inside were rows of handwritten names and numbers.

The real ledger.

The one Abigail had hidden from everyone.

The names of the families in Sacramento, the amounts stolen, the routing numbers of the Swiss accounts.

It was all here.

“Is that it?” Ana asked, looking at the book.

“Yes,” I said. “This is the end of the Darcy legacy.”

“No,” Ana said softly. “It’s the beginning of the restoration.”

I held the ledger tight against my chest.

Outside, the red and blue lights continued to paint the trees in shades of emergency.

The sound of handcuffs clicking echoed from the living room.

Mark was quiet now, his spirit finally broken by the betrayal of his own wife.

I walked toward the kitchen window and looked out.