I looked at my father, seeing the sudden panic in the tight lines around his mouth.

“Dad?” I whispered, my voice trembling. “Is this true?”

He didn’t look at me, keeping his eyes locked on Gabriel with sheer hatred.

“You have no proof of any of this,” Richard said, trying to regain his commanding tone. “This is nothing but harassment and speculation.”

Gabriel reached into his pocket and pulled out his phone.

“We have more than financial records, Richard,” Gabriel said.

“We have Margaret’s own voice.”

My heart hammered against my ribs as Gabriel tapped the screen of his phone, ready to play the file.

At that exact moment, the heavy double doors of the ballroom opened once more.

An elderly woman with gray hair, wearing a simple wool coat that looked out of place among the evening gowns, walked in.

It was Eleanor Price, my mother’s oldest and closest friend.

In her arms, she held a faded wooden box.

She looked directly at my father, her eyes filled with years of quiet anger.

Gabriel’s phone screen lit up, a blue progress bar appearing as an audio file loaded.