They were locking me out.

I needed the physical files.

I needed the green folder in my aunt’s desk.

I walked back toward the main elevators, my mind spinning.

The elevator doors slid open with a soft chime.

Dr. Mara Singh was standing inside, holding a clipboard and a paper cup of coffee.

She looked up, her dark eyes instantly taking in my pale face and the tense set of my shoulders.

“Elizabeth,” she said, stepping aside so I could enter.

“You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

“Worse,” I said, leaning against the metal handrail.

“My family.”

Mara sighed, setting her coffee down on the small ledge near the buttons.

“Did the police finish their report?”

“The assault report is done,” I said.

“But there is something else.”

“Something bigger.”

The elevator rose slowly, the quiet hum filling the small space.

“How big?” Mara asked.

“Federal fraud,” I whispered.

She stared at me, her brow furrowing.

“Your aunt?”

“She forged my name as a co-signer for Jason’s medical school loans.”

“Eighty thousand dollars for the first year alone.”

Mara let out a low whistle.