“No,” Julian said. “I am saving what is left of our integrity.”

“Integrity does not pay the bills on a ten-acre lakefront estate,” Miranda said.

She turned her gaze to me, her eyes narrowing into slits.

“You think you can just walk in here with a dusty piece of paper and claim my life?” Miranda asked.

“It was never your life,” I said, holding her gaze. “You built it on a lie.”

Miranda laughed, a dry, humorless sound that echoed off the high ceiling.

She looked at Nathaniel Vale, then at my grandfather.

“This is a conspiracy,” Miranda said, her voice gaining strength.

“We have the bank records, Miranda,” Nathaniel said.

He pulled a thick stack of blue-bound documents from his briefcase.

He laid them next to the brass lamp, the bright green light illuminating the columns of figures.

“These show the exact path of the diverted funds,” Nathaniel said.

“From Arthur’s primary account directly into your personal accounts,” Julian added.

Miranda did not look at the papers.

She kept her eyes fixed on me, her expression hardening into something desperate.