“Lydia Crane needs to see this,” I said.

“No!” Caroline gasped. “If the county counsel gets hold of this, the entire sale to Wexler Stone will fall through.”

“That’s the point,” I said.

“You don’t understand,” Caroline cried, grabbing my arm. “If the sale falls through, Marcus will go to prison.”

“He stole from the family, Caroline,” I said, pulling my arm free. “He deserves to face the consequences.”

“It’s not just Marcus,” Caroline said, her voice cracking as she began to sob. “He used my name on some of the documents. I didn’t know, Clara, I swear I didn’t. But the bank will hold me responsible too.”

I stared at her, the weight of her desperation filling the small stone room.

The air felt thick, smelling of damp earth and old paper.

“How could you let him do that?” I asked.

“I was desperate,” she whispered. “My medical bills, the upkeep on my cottage… Marcus promised he would handle it.”

“He handled it by dragging you into his crime,” I said.

Before Caroline could answer, the sound of car tires crunching on the gravel driveway drifted down from the main house.