My grandfather stepped forward, the brass tip of his cane thudding against the floor.

“You knew my son was dead, Miranda,” Elias said.

“You knew Valerie was alive.”

“You kept her in the dark so you could use the assets to fund your real estate ventures.”

Miranda looked at me, her eyes filled with a cold, desperate anger.

“She was a maid,” Miranda spat.

“She cleaned my toilets.”

“She washed the stairs.”

“And she learned every single detail of your operation while she did it,” I said.

My voice was calmer than I expected it to be.

“I know which accounts you used to hide the losses in the South Side development,” I said.

“I know which board members you paid to stay silent about the logistics failure in October.”

“I have the ledger from your private safe.”

Miranda looked at Julian, her hand reaching out toward him.

“Julian, do something,” she said.

“They are trying to ruin us.”

Julian did not move toward her.

He looked at the floor, his hands still in his pockets.

“They aren’t ruining us, Mother,” Julian said.