“I am already in a prison, Miranda,” Bennett said softly.

“I have been in one for ten years.”

He looked at me, a look of profound apology in his faded eyes.

“I am sorry, Valerie,” he said.

“Your father deserved better.”

“Your grandfather deserved better.”

The wind rattled the heavy glass windows of the library, throwing a sheet of rain against the pane.

The storm seemed to be closing in on the mansion.

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

“You have planned this for months.”

“You put this girl in my house to spy on me,” she said, pointing at me again.

“She has been searching through my private drawers, stealing our family papers.”

“I didn’t need to steal anything, Miranda,” I said.

“You left the truth in plain sight.”

“You were so confident in your own power that you forgot people watch you.”

Julian stepped closer to the desk, his eyes moving between his mother and the blue papers.

“Mother,” Julian said, his voice remarkably calm.

“If these documents are fake, why are you shaking?”