Finally, I photographed Caroline’s signature on the modern agreement.

My hands did not shake as I attached the files to an email and sent them to Sarah.

Caroline watched me from the sofa, her face pale and hollow.

“It’s over, then,” Caroline said quietly.

“For Marcus and Warren, yes,” I said.

Just then, the heavy front door of Mercer House slammed open downstairs.

The sound echoed up the grand staircase.

“Clara!” Marcus’s voice roared through the foyer.

I stood up and walked to the library door, looking down into the dimly lit hallway.

Marcus was standing at the bottom of the stairs, his coat dripping with rain, his face flushed.

“I know you have that book, Clara,” Marcus shouted, pointing a finger up at me. “Warren called me.”

“It’s too late, Marcus,” I said, leaning over the banister. “The proof is already gone.”

“What do you mean it’s gone?” he asked, taking two steps up the stairs.

“I sent copies of the entire ledger to Sarah Harrison and the descendants’ association,” I said.

Marcus froze on the steps, his chest heaving.

“You didn’t,” he whispered.