He looked at the front.

The address was written in hasty, blue ink.

“Is that…” I started, my voice catching.

“Miriam’s handwriting,” Dominic finished.

He tore the top of the envelope open with his thumb.

Inside was a small, silver flash drive and a folded piece of white paper.

He unfolded the paper, his eyes scanning the lines quickly.

“What does it say?” I asked, stepping closer.

“It’s a confession,” Dominic said, his voice barely a whisper. “She says the original files are on this drive. The unaltered fertility reports. The blood tests.”

He looked at me, a mixture of anger and regret in his eyes.

“She says she couldn’t live with the guilt anymore.”

Before I could take the paper from his hand, his phone began to ring again.

The screen showed Marco’s name.

Dominic answered it on the first ring, pressing it to his ear.

“Marco, tell me you have her,” Dominic said.

“Dominic, listen to me,” Marco’s voice came through the speaker, loud and panicked. “We lost her. Caterina’s men intercepted Miriam’s car near the West Side Highway.”

Dominic’s face drained of color. “And Miriam?”