“There’s more,” Marco added. “Paul told Corrado he could get access to your private ledger. He claims he knows where the physical copies are kept.”

I looked down at my lap, my fingers twisting the hem of my damp shirt.

Vincent hung up the phone without saying goodbye.

He turned his back to me, staring at a framed anatomical chart on the wall.

“Paul is a fool,” Vincent said. “He doesn’t know where my ledgers are.”

“But he thinks he does,” I said.

Vincent didn’t answer.

“Vincent,” I said, my voice stronger now. “Paul doesn’t have your ledger. But he has his own.”

He turned around slowly, his eyes narrowing.

“What do you mean?” he asked.

Dr. Hale stood quietly in the corner, folding a bandage, his eyes moving between the two of us.

“Paul did illegal bookkeeping for Corrado’s associates for three years,” I said.

The room grew very cold.

“He kept the records on a secure laptop in our apartment,” I continued. “But he was paranoid. He wrote the backup codes and the offshore account numbers on the inside of his desk drawer.”