“We found the ledger in your desk, Beatrice,” I said, stepping forward.

Her face drained of what little color it had left.

“The ledger Darrow kept,” I continued. “The one showing every cent you embezzled from my father’s charity before you burned it down.”

“That is a lie,” Beatrice whispered, though her eyes darted toward the exit.

“It’s over, Beatrice,” Liam said. “The financial records, the offshore accounts, the forged signatures. We have all of it.”

“And the arson report from ten years ago is being reopened,” Holt added. “The accelerant matches the chemicals found in your garage.”

I looked at the charred walls around us, the physical evidence of the nightmare that had ruined my youth.

My hands began to shake, but Liam reached out and took my hand, squeezing it gently.

His grip was warm and solid, anchor in the cold, decaying room.

“We will get through this, Audrey,” he whispered. “We are going to finish this tonight.”

I nodded, swallowing the lump in my throat.

I knew that once this night was over, the truth would finally be laid bare in a courtroom.