He clicked on a separate ledger that had been updated as recently as last month.

It was a list of recurring monthly expenses.

My eyes locked onto a repeated entry of forty-five thousand dollars.

The recipient was listed as *The Pines Sanctuary*.

“What is The Pines?” I asked, looking at Charles.

“It is a private medical facility,” Charles said, his brow furrowing. “A high-security asylum on the northern ridge of the city.”

“Look at the patient reference code next to the payment,” Marcus said.

He highlighted the alphanumeric code in blue.

The code was *AJ-0489*.

“Arthur Jennings,” I whispered, the realization hitting me like a physical blow. “Employee number 0489.”

“He is there,” Charles said, his eyes widening. “They didn’t kill him because they couldn’t risk an investigation into a body.”

“So they locked him away,” I said. “They paid to keep him hidden under a fake identity.”

The spreadsheet showed a payment made just five days ago.

A regular, monthly fee to keep my father quiet, living as a ghost in a locked ward.

“He’s alive,” I whispered, tears blurring my vision. “Charles, he’s alive.”