One of the floorboards was cut shorter than the others.

I pressed my thumb against the edge of the board, and it tilted upward easily.

Inside the dark cavity lay a small, black leather-bound ledger.

My heart gave a heavy thud.

I reached in and pulled it out, blowing a thin layer of dust off the cover.

“Is that it?” Liam asked, kneeling beside me.

“It looks like her handwriting,” I said, opening the cover.

The pages were filled with columns of dates, names, and dollar amounts.

I flipped toward the back, my eyes scanning the dates from three years ago.

The rain beat a steady rhythm against the bedroom window.

I stopped at a page marked October.

The date of the charity fundraiser was circled in red ink.

“Look at this entry,” I whispered, pointing to the line.

*Darrow. fifty thousand dollars.*

Below it, written in Chloe’s hurried script, was a note: *For services rendered at the hall.*

Liam took the ledger from my hands, his face hardening as he read the numbers.

“Darrow,” he muttered. “Beatrice’s fixer.”