He stared at the folder, then looked up at me, his eyes wide with a sudden, desperate realization.

“How did you find out?” he whispered.

“Evelyn knew you would try this,” I said, my voice barely above a whisper but cutting through the silent room. “She protected me.”

I reached into my pocket and pulled out my phone, which had begun to vibrate against my leg.

I looked down at the screen.

It was an unknown number, but a text message flashed on the lock screen.

I swiped it open, my eyes scanning the short sentence.

*Gavin is at the harbor docks with the laptop. He’s not leaving alone.*

I looked back at my father, whose hand was now trembling as he reached for the folder.

“Don’t touch it,” I said, my voice sharp.

He pulled his hand back as if the paper had burned him.

The amber liquid in his glass sloshed against the ice, making a hollow clinking sound.

“Emily, please,” he muttered, his voice cracking. “You don’t understand the pressure I was under.”

“I understand the numbers, Dad,” I said.